#also is it just me or does killer smile go from “normal” to “menacing” like in the second photo

[toffeesbabbles]

I think something i admire but also hurts is rahafwabas' style makes swap SO CUTE! so seeing him suffer somehow is made even worse

(all art is done by @/rahafwabas)

HES A CUTIE PIE??? WTF

[cmlbcommish]

CMLB: Haruta Telephone, Saskatchewan Skates, 2

Haruta Telephone is a fairly anxious person.

Sure, joining the CMLB seems like something that would cause her more anxiety, but just as her older twin siblings loved Blaseball, that same adoration for the core values of the game also stuck to Haruta and her twin Fuyuto.

Despite everything.

She wakes up at 6:00 am to the sound of her phone alarm blaring. Today's ringtone is a guitar wailing out a complicated riff, almost startling her awake.

She gets up, does a few stretches, and starts getting dressed. She pulls on her uniform for the first time, despite knowing it's only a practice today.

Okay, maybe she can't help being a little bit excited despite the nervous fluttering in her stomach. 

She has a new teammate. Finally, the team has rounded out the last of the pitching roster, meaning they finally have enough players to start practicing and playing real games.

Nagomi didn't mention her new teammate's name, but the look she gave Haruta was mischievous and just a tad menacing, which is a little nerve wracking. 

(She ended up calling Eli later in a panic, wanting reassurance that Nagomi hadn't put a serial killer or a person who hates phones to be their last teammate. Eli had to stop himself from laughing throughout the whole call)

Meeting new people is hard, she never quite got the grasp of in person charisma like her siblings. She hopes that everything will go well and she wont stutter over her words in her introduction.

Once Haruta is ready to leave, she waits for over an hour for her ride to come get her, during which time she checks all her messages and social media. When the driver finally arrives, she's in a great mental state.

Of course, by the time she gets to the stadium she's nervous again. 

When she walks in the front door, she looks off to the side to see a tall figure standing there, staring down at their phone. He is holding a cane in his other hand from the phone, his brown hair looking tousled to its normal messy degree and the blaseball style stitches on his face denoting to any who are in the know who he is. 

It's Parker, known formally as Parker MacMillan.1, the other commissioner for the league.

Parker looks up to the sound of the door opening and gives Haruta a wave, she squeaks out a small "H-hello, Parker!"

"Hello, Haruta. How are you today?" He responds, 

"I'm alright!" She says perhaps a little too eagerly, or well, nervously, but Parker just smiles kindly at her. He tilts his head in the direction of the locker rooms “Walk with me?” and Haruta nods.

"You weren't… waiting for someone, were you?" Haruta asks timidly, avoiding Parker's gaze. He gives a little chuckle.

"Not anyone in particular, you just happened to be today's lucky winner." 

They keep walking in silence, Haruta is still quite terrified of Parker due to his role as co-commissioner, even though he has been nothing but kind to anyone she's ever heard mention him. Old habits die hard, as they say.

"Are you okay?" She blurts out eventually. "Y-you're uh, favouring your left leg?" 

"Ah." He scoffs, "Twinged my ankle the other day. These bones of mine really like to cause a fit, and Nagomi always pesters me until I get proper aid." He rolls his eyes. 

Finally, they make it to the locker room, Haruta jogging lightly ahead to hold the door open for Parker, who rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and thanks her. 

Now, Haruta has met her teammates before, so she greets them almost as an automatic response. She steels her courage to greet the new player, but Parker calls for attention before she can.

"Morning everyone." He starts. "As most of you know, I am Parker and I'm the co-commissioner for the league. I'm here today because Nagomi's over in Zeromere, though I honestly don't know why she wanted me to watch everyone practice anyway." He shrugs.

"So, basically you're all free to do your practicing, your captain is Eli Quitter, over there by the cooler, and your co-captain is King Dracaena, to my left here, and the both of them are going to be directing the practice. Sounds good?" There's a murmur from the room and a lot of nodding heads.

"Fantastic. I'll be in the office if you need me." He says, and he exits the room.

"Uh." Says Eli, scratching his head "Alright, I guess we'll start? Pitchers, you're with me, batters, you're with King."

Haruta has been practicing her pitches at home in her backyard since she first got accepted to be on the team. She knew despite making the team, she wasn't the strongest pitcher and she knows that her skill lies in batting, just like her siblings, but she can't bring herself to bat.

She is very nervous when Eli asks her to demonstrate some pitches, in front of all the other pitchers.

Her first three go wide, and her hands end up shaking so bad that Eli places a hand on her shoulder and reminds her to breathe. She takes a minute, and winds up again.

BAM! Right in the dead middle of the strike zone.

Eli whistles, while the rest of the pitchers give a polite clap. 

Haruta gets a few more throws before Eli rotates off to the next person.

"Haruta Telephone." A voice comes. She whips around to see who spoke. It's the new player, looking super serious with his blue flame tattoo and crossed arms

"Oh! Uh, that's me?" Haruta says, in the most unconvincing manner ever. The new player just nods, and sticks out his hand.

"Riley Hotdogfingers." 

Haruta shakes his hand. She can't stop herself from being curious about Riley, especially with his last name being Hotdogfingers. But she doesn't ask. 

"Jaylen is my older sister." Riley offers, immediately.

"... I wasn't going to ask." Haruta says  sheepishly.

"I know you weren't. But I wanted you to know." He looks at her intently. "You look far to similar to the Telephone twins to not be related to them, I wanted to offer common ground."

He's got her there. "Well um. Yeah? Yeah they're my older siblings." The way he talks throws her a little, so factual, so bold.

"Hotdogfingers! You're up!" Calls Eli. Riley inclines his head to Haruta politely before going to take his place on the mound.

He is a decent bit more accurate than Haruta, and he pitches so fast. He throws that blaseball for all that he's worth.

Riley was the last pitcher in the rotation, after they finish those warmups, they practice playing on the field as a full team, then they go back to the locker room.

Everyone is buzzing with energy as they get ready to leave. 

Haruta's driver takes her home, and she spends the rest of the evening knitting.

Just before bed, she picks up her phone and dials two familiar numbers.

Both of them ring. And ring. 

Her older siblings do not pick up.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Peter and MJ, coworkers who barely know each other's names, but could draw each other's faces from memory, get stuck in the elevator together at the end of a work day

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! I started writing the fic for this so fast haha

Overheard at the Bugle

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: M Word count: 5394

Summary:

Peter's having a late night at the office and finds out he's not the only one working overtime right before he and the new reporter, Michelle Jones, get trapped in the Bugle's unreliable elevator. He just needs to handle this situation calmly and not do anything to give away his secret identity. It'd be easier to focus on the task at hand if his enhanced hearing wasn't picking up something very unusual coming from the voice recorder in Michelle's bag.

Peter tries to keep a low profile at the Bugle―he doesn’t need anyone giving a second thought to the guy who turns in crisp closeups of Spider-Man week after week―but he didn’t realize he’s invisible. He’s gotta be for the custodial staff to start shutting the lights off on his floor as he’s still sifting blearily through the emails that arrive every five minutes; they’re all stamped with Sent from J. Jonah Jameson’s iPhone. Almost in the dark, Peter snaps his laptop shut, shoves it into his messenger bag, and sprints for the elevators. He’s not scared of the dark (what kinda hero would that make him?), but after lights-out comes locking the doors and he’s not keen on spending the night here. Though his apartment might not be much, it’s his escape from work.

He skids around the corner to find the glow of an elevator that’s just closing.

“Hold it!” Peter shouts, shooting his hand out to part the doors as a frantic tapping comes from inside.

“I was pushing the button…” a woman explains as he steps in.

She turns her head and a spill of wavy brown hair is pushed aside to reveal the face of Michelle Jones. Peter swallows. His gaze goes from her startled brown eyes to her finger, now slipping off the Doors Open button.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, “this thing can be temperamental sometimes.”

“Right. Ground floor, I assume?”

“Yep.”

He moves off to a respectful distance as she presses the button to take them down and the doors close. His heart’s hammering. Though he’s heard the confident tone of her voice plenty, she’s never specifically spoken to him. Nor he to her. Luckily, the walls of the elevator have an intentional burnish with the scuff of wear on top, so there’s no chance of her catching sight of his stare in their reflections. Peter doesn’t mean to, it’s just that she took her hair down. She mostly wears it twisted and pinned at the nape of her neck and probably just shook it out when she got into the elevator, heading home. He gets it. He has his tie jammed into his bag, collar unbuttoned, and sleeves cuffed up to his elbows. Nobody gives a shit about dress code after the boss is gone, especially if they’re working late with no guarantee of overtime pay. Quit looking at her, he thinks, and snaps his gaze down to the floor. He can still smell her shampoo, courtesy of the enhanced senses.

“Sorry about the lights,” Michelle offers, turning her head enough to address him, but not enough to meet his eye because he’s standing beside and slightly behind her. “I let one of the custodians know I was on my way out a few minutes ago. Thought I was the last one left.”

Peter frowns. That’s weird. Not what she says, but that, when she speaks, he thinks he hears an echo. My one-on-one exclusive with Spider-Man, it says, in the voice of the reporter currently sharing the elevator with him. He opens his mouth to ask Michelle if she hears it too and catches himself. That’s a habit he broke years ago, when he realized there are way more things other people can’t hear and it only risks freaking them out and exposing himself to reveal that his senses are more animal than human.

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds distractedly.

The first thing to know about Spider-Man is that he’s not a nine-to-five kinda guy. Without regular business hours, he joins me for this interview in my Brooklyn apartment on a Friday evening. The red suit is predictable; the rap he gives my living room window to announce his arrival smacks more of cheeky showmanship. This reporter has to wonder whether, for him, finally submitting to such an in-depth, sit-down conversation is a type of performance. Surely the man behind the mask knows his audience is rapt for any details on the life of a figure who, despite his status as a trusted friend to all, is so much a mystery to this city’s inhabitants.

Ok, what? Peter’s brain is spinning like a frisbee. He’s never given the kind of interview Michelle’s disembodied voice is describing, and definitely never given it to her. He’s never been to her apartment, doesn’t even know where she lives, and certainly isn’t eager to invite questions in some sort of exposé. Maybe what he’s hearing are just the notes she’s preparing for a future interview. Did Jameson assign this? He’s certainly nosy about Peter’s alter ego, but the tone of the piece is more curious than their boss’s usual style―scathing, obstinate, malicious. She sounds intrigued by Spider-Man, not like she’s luring him into a trap.

The elevator jolts. It grinds. It halts. Michelle makes a sound of distress and taps Doors Open. She looks at him over her shoulder, face worried but also… flushed? Maybe she gets anxiety attacks.

“It’s alright,” Peter tells her, one foot in Spider-Man’s De-escalation Mode. He raises his hands in hopefully a calming gesture and her eyes dart to them, gliding over his bare forearms. Crap, does he seem threatening? He lowers his hands.

“I know it’s alright,” she assures him. “I just… who wants to be stuck at work?”

Michelle gives him a slight smile to accompany her joke and he returns it.

“Got a story to work on?” Peter asks.

His motive is partly to understand the narration he heard (which is still going on, a murmur beneath their much louder voices), but also to focus her on something besides the fact that the elevator is not moving.

“Just filed one actually, so, you know, theoretically free for the weekend.” She makes a phonily excited face that emphasizes how very not-free they are.

The continued jokes are a good sign that she isn’t overly alarmed. He’s still stumped about the story though. As she pulls her cell phone from the large leather bag over her arm, Peter tunes into the background noise. With the elevator silent, that’s just the recording of Michelle’s voice.

‘…later than I thought you would be,’ I inform him. He makes his excuses and where I would normally be annoyed by a failure to be punctual, I find myself charmed by New York’s man in red. I wonder where his adventures have taken him tonight, if his actions have prevented violence, saved lives. If his mere presence has inspired onlookers and comforted those who have lost faith in our traditional systems of stagnant courts and killer cops…

There’s no way Jameson can be aware of the spin she’s putting on this. Spider-Man’s no hero in the eyes of the editor-in-chief, just a menace, a pest, a cockroach climbing up the pantleg of the people who are supposed to enforce justice. That’s not the only thing that’s confusing. Peter’s fairly hung up on the fact that she’s conducting this interview like he’s there. Could just be her process. Playing the whole thing out to get a feel for however long it might be, where small talk might hypothetically cut into her list of prepared questions.

“No service,” Michelle huffs, tucking her phone away again. “You?”

Peter, startled, gets his phone out to check, though he already knows this elevator is a dead zone. He shakes his head. Frustrated, she moves her hand to jab the Help button. The one meant to connect the rider with 911.

“Don’t bother,” he coaches when she pushes it a second time after nothing happens. “I think that thing’s just for show.”

“Oh yeah?”

She’s arch, irritated. Peter stays calm, knowing it’s not really meant for him. People can get testy in stressful situations. Being trapped in an elevator is one of those. Not for him. For him, a stressful situation is a bullet graze or leaping from one office tower to the next and realizing in midair that he’s out of webs. Trapped in an elevator is a relaxing start to his weekend in comparison.

“Jameson never lets anybody inspect it. He’s a control freak, scared of spies. He thinks somebody’s gonna bug the elevator,” he clarifies to Michelle’s raised eyebrows.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, have you met him?”

She exhales a laugh at that.

…invite him to get comfortable, I’m surprised at him choosing a seat at the opposite end of the couch I’ve just sat down on. I’d intended the chair across from me and think that should be obvious to him. Perhaps it is. The mask doesn’t make him the easiest man to read.

“So we’re just fucking stuck because Jameson’s scared of, who? Reporters from other papers? The CIA? Edward Snowden?”

A tingle goes down Peter’s spine when she swears. She’s commanding. Does she know that or is working under Jameson putting her qualities in the shadow of his, wielded for domination and intimidation?

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he says.

“This button’s never worked?” Michelle checks, leaning her knuckle into it to keep it depressed. “This is a major safety issue. Imagine there was a fire right now.”

“You should call somebody and report him.”

He can’t help being playfully sarcastic and thinks, for a second, that she’s going to bite his head off for it by the way her eyes flash. Then he thinks he might not mind. Then she laughs and he tries to take a normal breath.

“What do we do?” she wants to know.

What do they do? What do Peter and the woman he’s eyed across the office since she arrived at the Bugle two months ago do? Forced together by unhealthy work hours and a broken elevator? He shifts from one foot to the other.

“Hope the custodian decides to watch for you to leave the building and comes looking when you don’t.”

“I hate that plan,” Michelle informs him.

“Go ahead and come up with another one,” he invites earnestly.

She turns so she’s facing him and lets her back slump against the wall of the elevator. She shrugs to ease her bag off her shoulder. The strap tugs a little at her emerald-green blouse before it slides down her arm. She sets it on the ground by her feet. It looks like she’s doing what he suggested. Now it’s just Peter and her quiet voice, which he can tell is coming from the bag. Michelle must have a recorder in there. Probably thinks she shut it off, but the volume’s just really low.

‘…when you’re out there?’ I have to inquire of him. At his easy laugh, I shelter behind my coffee cup, taking a slow sip. ‘Lonely?’ Spider-Man repeats. ‘In a city this size?’ He’s being coy now. I’m certain he knows what I want and it’s the dare implicit in this exchange that prompts me to press him. ‘Not lonely for just anybody,’ I begin…

Crossing his arms, Peter rests against the back of the elevator, trying to be subtle as he tips his head to the side to hear more. He’s getting into this story now, even if it’s not real. For the first time, he’s starting to see how Spider-Man might be a pretty compelling guy. He likes this person she seems to think he is; he’s more interesting coming from her lips. Of course, not as interesting as she is, with her leading questions and the agenda she’s voicing for her recorder if not for the man she’s interviewing.

“Have you worked at the Bugle long?”

His gaze twitches over to Michelle’s face when she speaks.

“Since right outta college. Why?”

“Just wondered if this had happened to you before,” she explains, waving her hand at the elevator’s useless panel of buttons. “And I knew you were here before me.”

“You did?”

He shouldn’t sound so breathlessly hopeful. Obviously, she knew he was here first. Michelle could’ve noticed him one time in the past two months and seen him do anything to indicate that he’d been here longer―escape Jameson’s office just before he could get roared at, jiggle the plug to make the coffee machine in the breakroom work. But Peter does sound that way because of her tone. She says it like an admission and she breaks eye contact.

‘…you don’t want one?’ He declined my offer of coffee once, but I think he may change his mind now that we’ve warmed up to each other a little. Spider-Man twists and I can feel him regarding me from behind those large white eyes. ‘I’d have to take the mask off to drink it,’ he points out. I promise that I’m not trying to blow his cover, just be hospitable. Besides, I counter, he doesn’t need to expose his whole face. The mouth will do.

“So, has it?” she counters, ignoring his question.

“Has what?”

“Has it happened to you? The elevator shutting down?”

“Oh, uh, once or twice, but it was always in the middle of the day and there were a bunch of other people in the elevator with me, so it didn’t go unnoticed long. Jameson hassled me for missing meetings while I was trapped though.”

“It’s not like you could help it,” Michelle says.

“True, but…” Peter shrugs. “I learned to take the stairs.”

“Bet you’re wishing you took them tonight.”

He laughs.

“Not really. I mean, uhhh…” The sound drags out embarrassingly as he can’t manage to pull his gaze away from her surprised face.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, saving him. “I think you’re keeping me saner than I would be alone.”

Right. That’s all. Which is enough, really. He’s glad to be of service, especially if that service is helping her not totally lose it.

“No problem.”

‘…because I can do more good if I’m an anonymous symbol,’ Spider-Man tells me. His body language has changed, shifting forward with the urgency of his words. ‘But some people must know,’ I say. ‘Your real identity can’t be a secret from everyone.’ ‘No Spider-Man is an island?’ is his clever rejoinder. I agree with absolute sincerity. ‘Even the strongest person needs to let others get close to them,’ I insist. Where he’s tugged his mask up, his mouth shifts from a wry grin to thoughtful softness. I find my gaze lingering there.

“Any ideas?” Peter asks, feeling hot.

The temperature inside the elevator is moderate, but Michelle’s words, as she draws him deeper into her story, are making him surreptitiously flap his collar to encourage air down his shirt. He’s starting to feel like this is something he’s not supposed to hear. Alright, it’s likely that nobody was supposed to hear it if these are just her rough notes before composing an article. Whatever. What Peter’s realizing is that maybe nobody’s supposed to hear this interview ever. The questions are too personal, too human-interest for the kind of paper they work at, and the way she depicts her responses is… intimate. Full of sensory details. It’s as though he’s in this apartment with her, sipping at her coffee, staring at her down the length of the couch. A Friday night, her voice said, and tonight’s one of those. How would Michelle Jones feel if she knew she was spending an evening with Spider-Man right now?

“I think the custodians would’ve made some noise by now if they knew anybody was in here and if they haven’t realized we’re missing, then I’m not sure anyone else will. I don’t know about you, but I live alone. I probably won’t be missed tonight because my friends will just assume I’m working and turned my phone off. I’ve been considering,” she goes on, “that we’ll either have to climb out the top and hope we’re close to the doors aligning with one of the floors or get these doors open. Either way, we need something to open the doors. Personally, I didn’t pack my crowbar.”

Peter stares at her in awe for a minute. She really did come up with a plan. Several plans. He knows he can help―he doesn’t need a crowbar to part the metal doors―but he can’t just wrench the doors open with his bare hands and act like it’s no big deal. He’ll need an explanation, which can’t be the truth. Revealing himself at the Bugle? To a Bugle reporter? Seems like the worst possible scenario. He doesn’t think Michelle is anything like Jameson in her motivations or basic moral compass (fine, he doesn’t know her, but that’s the sense he gets), and yet, she works for him. It’s her job to give him something fresh, something captivating, and he’s just not sure that her fascination with Spider-Man would be enough to make her want to spare Peter Parker the nightmare of his identity being splashed across Monday’s front page.

“Me neither.”

“This isn’t sustainable,” she mutters. He looks at her with concern. Louder, she adds, “If I get restless enough to climb through the ceiling, promise you won’t look up my skirt when I ask you to give me a boost.”

“Promise.”

Michelle assesses his face and he tries to appear his most transparent and trustworthy. Gradually, her eyes move away from his, but he’s still watching her and sees her stare at his throat, then his chest, and down. Whoa, Peter tells himself. Not a good idea. This woman might be a little hung up on Spider-Man, maybe even has a crush, but you and him are two different people.

Meanwhile, on the recording: …switch it off for him, holding the voice recorder up so he can clearly see that I’ve done it. ‘There,’ I say, ‘no one’s listening now. It’s just you and I.’ ‘So I’m supposed to feel closer to you without it?’ Spider-Man asks. ‘Don’t you?’ is what I want to know.

“Screw it,” Michelle decides a minute later, standing up straight. “I’m getting us out of here. Can you pick me up?”

Peter drops his messenger bag in an instant.

“Yep.”

He watches while she kicks off her black patent high heels (maybe picturing her pressing one of those bad boys into his chest), then they both tip their heads back and examine the ceiling panels.

“Front corner, maybe?” she suggests. “Just so I’m as close as possible to where the doors will hopefully be and I don’t have to wobble around up there in the elevator shaft.”

“Sure,” Peter agrees.

They cross to the appropriate corner and he bends his knees, locking his fingers to offer her a step. She grabs his shoulder for balance and lifts her foot, about to place it in his braced hands, then pauses.

“I’m Michelle, by the way.”

“Peter.”

“I know.”

He’s baffled and flushed as they shake hands, but he can’t dwell on it because her fingers are digging into his shoulder right before she presses her foot into his swiftly repositioned hands and hops up. She gives a small shriek as her body wavers before steadying herself with her palms against the ceiling. Peter drops his gaze. He can tell by her knees that she’s crouching slightly and he’s not glancing any higher than that. Her skirt falls to just below her knees and, as they lean into each other to keep her up, he ends up with her thigh pressed against the side of his face, the black fabric of that skirt under his cheek.

“You got me, right?”

“Right,” he says, careful not to ramble and divulge how little effort bearing her weight requires.

“Ok, I’m going to try to get a grip on this panel and slide it open.”

“Sounds good.”

Peter is looking straight across at the wall. He is not looking higher than her knees. He has no thoughts about the scent of her skirt and no theories on whether the lavender comes from her fabric softener or lotion that he’s also not imagining her rubbing into her skin before she got dressed for work this morning. She sways in his grip and he braces his arms more firmly, unable to do anything about her leg against his face. Michelle grunts and her body heaves as he hears her shift the ceiling panel. Her toes curl around his fingers. He exhales in relief; if she can figure this out without him needing to call on his super-strength, awesome. She goes home with a sense of accomplishment and he goes home maintaining his secret identity.

“Ok,” she calls down. “It’s open. Lift me higher.”

“Higher,” Peter mumbles to himself. Then, to her, “Uh, I might have to, um, hold your legs. But I won’t look at anything, I swear.”

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

Her voice is wry and he chuckles.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Michelle says.

With a bounce of his shoulders, he hoists her up. For a minute, he keeps hold of her foot, but then one of his hands clutches the back of her calf while the other cups her heel. Her weight pulls away from him as she hauls herself up through the ceiling.

“Is there a door?” he asks.

“It’s dark… Can you get my phone? It’s right inside my bag.”

“Ok, hang on. Literally,” Peter adds.

“Ha ha,” Michelle responds dryly, but when he gently releases his grip on her, he finds that she’s able to hold herself in place with her elbows. Her legs dangle and he hurries.

Their conversation and the rush of the action they just took concentrated his senses. Unfortunately, he’s now holding her work bag open and the sounds from her voice recorder are pouring out louder than ever. Still too quiet for her though, at this distance.

‘…didn’t think a suit that tight could hide much, but I’m still pleasantly surprised.’ ‘What, this?’ Spider-Man teases. I abandon my coffee cup and push my reading glasses up into my hair as I set my notes aside to lean in. He might as well have a web stuck to my chest. His awareness of his own physicality is evidently as precise afterhours as it is while he’s on duty because he skims a hand down his abdomen, appearing to almost accidentally hook his thumb in the band of his boxers. ‘You want the real scoop?’ he asks me, prying the elastic away from his skin provocatively. The taste of coffee is still thick and rich in my mouth when I encourage him: ‘Go on, Spidey. Don’t stop there…’

Peter almost drops the bag.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah! Yes. Mhmm, I’ve got it.”

He returns to Michelle and wraps one arm around her legs. With his other hand, he lifts the phone towards her. Her fingers clasp his, then locate the phone and take it from his grip. He holds still while she turns on her flashlight and has a look around. So, Michelle doesn’t have a little crush on Spider-Man. She’s hot for Spider-Man. Which means she’s hot for Peter, in a way. Except not, he reminds himself, because you’re just her silent co-worker. You’re never going to―

“FUCK!”

“What? No. What? What is it?”

“The next door’s way too high,” she says. “We must be almost lined up with one.” She taps him on the head with her phone and he slips it into his pocket for safekeeping as he prepares to help her down.

“We’ll find another way.” Will you? he asks himself.

“Quick question.”

“Uh huh?”

“How do I do this?”

He’s holding most of her weight now and, pressing a hand to flatten her skirt against her leg, chances a peek up at Michelle. Her head’s still through the ceiling, arms still braced over the open panel. What would definitely work would be her just letting go and him catching her in his arms, but maybe that’s too much faith for her to put in a random guy from work. Although he’s capable of lifting her, catching her falling body is a completely different thing. As with their escape in general, they don’t have a ton of options.

“Just let go slowly,” Peter coaches. “I’ll adjust how I’m holding you and you can sort of slide down my body.” The awkwardness in his tone garbles the last part.

“I can what?”

Dammit. She’s waiting to come down. He clears his throat.

“Uh, slide down my body?”

Her anxious laugh disappears into the elevator shaft.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” he hears her hiss to herself. To him, “Yeah, ok. I’m coming down now.”

“I have you.”

Peter’s counting on the giddiness of being returned to the ground from a height to distract her from the too-skillful way he maneuvers his hands on her. Making sure her skirt never gets rucked up, not placing his hands anywhere truly unforgiveable. He holds her hips, not her ass, and turns his head so his face doesn’t wind up in her crotch. He’s really gentleman-ing his butt off when the recording in her bag calls out, ‘Harder, Spider-Man!’

His hands slip. A second ago, his head was level with her stomach and now his face is buried in her chest, the cup of her bra pressing back against his temple. Immediately, Peter tilts back from his shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry―”

“I’m ok, I’m good,” Michelle protests as they wriggle together to set her down. He forces her phone back into her hand.

“Your skirt was slippery…”

“I know. You did great, Peter, seriously.”

“…and I heard…”

He shuts his mouth fast, but her flustered expression dissipates as her probing gaze finds his eyes.

“What did you hear?”

Peter pushes at his sleeves and refuses to answer. Her powers of deduction don’t rely on him at all. She whirls to her bag, crouching and dropping her phone in to extract the voice recorder instead. Holding it to her ear in investigation, Michelle probably hears the words By the time he has me on all fours, I can tell that Spider-Man’s on board with my remark on the importance of letting someone be close to him at the same volume he does standing three feet away. He’s basically plastered himself to the opposite wall. She looks about as mortified as he figures he’d feel if he made a recording of a very personal fantasy and someone listened to it. Man, should he have just told her at the beginning? There didn’t seem to be a way to handle it well.

Michelle stops the playback and puts the recorder away. The elevator is abruptly quiet without the whisper of her voice. All the while, Peter’s staring at her, seeing what she’ll do. The most probable conclusion for her to come to is that he heard a single sound, a blip, and has no clue what the recording contained. The way she stands, leaving her bag on the floor, seems to confirm this. But she doesn’t look over at him.

With a sigh, he decides to do what Spider-Man would do and put the person in need first. What Michelle Jones needs from him is a way out of this embarrassment, and this elevator. Peter walks to the doors and stamps his hands to the metal. First, a little compression to get a good grip and then… Scrunching his face with the effort, he puts his back into it, forcing the doors apart. Next, he does the same thing to the outer doors, separating them to reveal a darkened hallway. The floor’s about three feet higher than where he’s standing inside the elevator, but that’s nothing for someone to scramble through and head for the stairs.

He steps away to let her go first. She doesn’t move.

“Should we talk about that?” Michelle asks, pointing at the doors, after what has to be a full minute of her studying him.

“I… work out? A lot. I work out a lot,” Peter says with more conviction on every try.

“And about this?” She grabs her recorder and waves it at him.

“You… use that to, uh, keep track of your ideas.”

She steps up to him and, without dropping her gaze from his face, reaches out to touch his wrist. Her fingers move from tracing his skin to ringing his web-shooter. He wears them to work pretty often, but always covers them with the cuffs of his shirt. Which he rolled up. Because he thought he was alone. There’s no reason for her to know what they’re for though, right? They could be medical alert bracelets, or just jewellery. It’s not like they’re branded with ‘Spider-Man’s Web-Shooter, 1 of 2.’

“You wanna talk about these?”

Peter opts out of replying.

“I know what they are,” she says. “What they’re for. I’ve researched you, looked at a lot of video footage and photographs, many of which I think you took, which seems equal parts fucked-up and brilliant. I noticed them right after we got stuck.”

“I have… a severe peanut butter allergy,” he says unconvincingly.

“Bummer,” Michelle shoots back, unsympathetic. Yeah, it was a terrible lie, but he’s gotta at least be able to say he tried to deny her accusations.

“It is, it is a bummer,” Peter agrees, nodding. He licks his dry lips to wet them. “Sometimes, I have such a craving for a PB and J and I can’t―”

She leans in and gives him a quick kiss.

“I’m… confused,” he admits.

“I know who you are,” she begins. “You don’t have to say it out loud, on the off chance somebody really has bugged this piece of shit elevator, but your severe peanut butter allergy bracelets, in combination with how you opened those doors, are pretty good evidence when compared with my research. So, if I take my supposition as fact―”

“Peanut butter…”

“Save it. If you are who I strongly believe you to be, then you were able to hear god knows what on that recording. Which I am an idiot for forgetting to erase or record over. Meant to do it last night… ugh, anyway. The important thing is that you heard it and you didn’t bolt through those doors the second you got them open. Why.”

When Michelle’s on a roll, he learns, her questions come out as demands. He quits trying to sneakily unfold his cuffs in a way-too-last-ditch attempt at concealing the truth.

“Ladies first?” he tries.

“I’m not going to use what I know. I promise you that. You’re a good person and as far as I’m concerned, your secret’s your secret. You do a hell of a lot more for this city than Jameson does with the trash he prints, my own contributions obviously excluded. Now I’m the only one held over a barrel here, Peter. You heard what you heard. Tell me why you stayed.”

“You needed me.”

“After you got the doors open.”

Peter thinks. Not just about whether or not to speak, but if he’s ready to say what he’s about to say.

“I needed you. It’s like what you said in the story―I mean, the recording. I don’t let many people get close to me.”

“Why would you let me be one of those people? It took being stuck together before we even had our first conversation.”

“A good feeling, I guess,” he explains. “Plus, you’re kinda my dream girl and I just found out that, at least on the physical side of things, you’re really into me. Like, really into me.”

“You can shut up about that now,” Michelle says.

“Why? You didn’t. You had so much to say.”

“Hmm, maybe I like Spi- I mean, that guy better when I’m speaking for him. Fortunately for you,” she says smugly, “I’ve thought Peter Parker the photographer was cute since the day I started working here.”

“That is news to me.”

Michelle wraps her arms around his neck, smirking as she leans her body against his.

“I was getting around to telling you. Are you surprised?”

“It’s a real scoop,” Peter acknowledges as his hands feel out the lithe shape of her back through her blouse.

“Oh my god, you heard that part? That part? How could―”

He more or less molds his mouth to hers. She more or less gives him a tour of her Brooklyn apartment before they spend the night in bed together and rise to a hot cup of coffee.

more clichéd tropes and prompts

[megalony]

Shattered

This is a firefighter! Ben Hardy imagine that will have a follow up part soon, I hope you all enjoy it. There is angst and injury mentions in this part.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem​ @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid​ @jennyggggrrr​ @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog

Ben Hardy masterlist

Part 2

Summary: Whilst Ben is on a job at a collapsing building, he finds out (Y/n) and their son are there and tries to protect them but he can’t stop them all from getting injured.

Enjoy.

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

"Whatever, it's fine Ben it doesn't matter-"

"Yes it does, it matters a lot to me (Y/n) because I've never missed a scan before. I want to be there and I want to take Tommy to his game in the afternoon but I can't swap my shift." There was a knowing look in (Y/n)'s eyes that made Ben's expression harden. They had three boys together and up to now Ben hadn't missed any of the scans during each pregnancy, despite the odd and gruelling shifts he worked. But tomorrow he simply couldn't go because he had to work and no one had been able to swap the shift with him.

"You can be at the next one Ben, it really doesn't matter. The job always comes first, right?" (Y/n) quipped back, but her response only caused Ben's brows to raise and his jaw to lock.

"Now that's not fair." Ben's voice was unusually now and with his words being quiet as not to disturb the toddler on his chest, his words sounded menacing. Ben would admit that his job was important to him, it was a vital job that he had been doing for ten years but it wasn't the most important thing in his life. Ben would always put his family first but the point was he had to work tomorrow and if something went wrong at the scan (Y/n) could always call him and he would try and leave as quickly as possible. It was the first time this had happened when they were having a scan.

"Isn't it? You haven't been able to go to half of Tommy's games, it was me who had to leave work to take Billy to the doctor, not you and we were damn lucky my water broke when it did with James or you wouldn't have been there for the birth. I'm not angry Ben because it's just a scan, its routine and we've done it before but we both know the job comes first a lot of the time."

(Y/n) knew she would be rivalling with Ben's job the moment she got together with him and it was always okay because he saved lives. Ben put his life on the line to help others and sometimes (Y/n) did worry he would get hurt badly or not come home at all. But she knew being a fireman was the only thing Ben wanted to do and he was good at his job so she was proud. But the job was almost as important as his family and even though that was understandable, sometimes it did hurt.

"No, that's not fair because when you had your operation I got two weeks off at two days notice so I could be home with the boys. When Tommy broke his leg I was the one who took him to A&E instead of going to work and when you had your accident when you were pregnant with him I left work and came straight home to you. The job always comes second to you and the boys and you know it."

Tilting his head down from looking at (Y/n), Ben looked at the two year old asleep in his arms. Billy had his head resting on Ben's shoulder and his arms curled up against his chest, when he fell back asleep Ben didn't have the heart to put him into bed. He just stayed holding him because he had to get ready and go to work in a few minutes.

"(Y/n) I don't want to argue, I'm sorry but on the next scan I'll be there and I'll take Tommy to his next game in three weeks. Can you take Billy now, I need to get ready?" Ben tipped his head to the side, his eyes sorrowful but he felt a small swell of relief in his chest when (Y/n) nodded before approaching him.

Biting her lip, (Y/n) carded her fingers gently through Billy's hair as she leaned her head on Ben's chest, feeling his free arm wrap around her waist to pull her a bit closer.

"Text me when you've finished and I'll see you tonight." (Y/n) reached over and gently eased Billy into her arms before she quickly pecked Ben's lips. Their gazes stayed interlocked for a few more seconds before (Y/n) slowly left the room to go and settle Billy back down to bed since it was still early in the morning and he was now fast asleep.

"Tommy, I need my shoes back buddy, give 'em here." Heading down the stairs, Ben sat on the bottom step before he motioned for his eldest to walk over to him when he came in sight down the hall. Ben watched with a smile as Tommy slowly waddled over to him, trying his best to walk in his dad's shoes that were far too big for his small feet. When he reached Ben, he stood by his side and kicked the shoes from his feet so they were resting in front of Ben.

Ben's shifts were all twelve hours a day, four days a week but he still had to leave home early so that when he got to work he could put his overalls on and grab his protective equipment. Then when he finished his shift he took longer because he got changed and showered at work rather than driving home covered in smoke and grime. It was tough, but it was Ben's job and he wouldn't choose to do anything else.

"Why are they like that?" Tommy leaned his head on the banister as he tapped Ben's shoe with his toe to signal what he meant.

"So I don't burn my feet, bud, or in case anything falls on them so it won't hurt." Ben tapped his knuckles against the top of his boot to show how tough the material was which he was very thankful for. Ben had to walk into burning buildings and step in or around fires so his boots had to be made of material that wouldn't catch fire easily and that wouldn't melt or burn his feet. They also had to be strong so that if any bricks or wood or items fell on him, they wouldn't crush his feet and stop him from getting to safety.

"Why aren't mine like that?" Tommy watched Ben tying up his boots before he stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, checking that his keys were in his pocket.

"What fires do you normally walk into, buddy?" Ben smiled, trying to refrain from laughing because he didn't want Tommy to think he was being rude when he was only curious. "Right, I'll see you tonight before you go to bed, your mum's gonna take you out today so you be good, okay?" Ben leaned down when Tommy wrapped himself around his legs, humming in agreement before he begrudgingly moved back to let Ben leave. Tommy huffed quietly, knowing that whenever Ben left to go to work at night or when he got home at night it meant it would soon be his bedtime.

"Bye dad."

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

"I don't like this Joe, the whole place is about to go." Ben spoke into the radio hooked to his left shoulder as he cast his eyes around his sector of the ground floor car park. The fires in this multi-story car park and shopping centre were on one side of the building and it made the whole thing unsteady and Ben felt like he was going to be crushed at any given moment. Ben's team were needed to try and get people out whilst Joe's team were concentrating on the fires that were still going.

But Ben didn't like the feel of this because the fire meant that the building was collapsing on one side and that normally led to the whole thing breaking down. Ben knew that the building was far too big for everyone to get out safely before something happened but they had to try.

Turning to look over to his right, Ben nodded silently at Sammy before the pair hurried in different directions, both of them picking up speed when they could hear the building trembling. The fires on this floor were minimal but the number of cars suggested people might come down here trying to get out.

"Ben, pull your team out it's too risky. Let search and rescue take over when they get here." Joe knew it was getting to a point where Ben's team were going to be put at substantial risk when they weren't designated to getting everyone out. They didn't have the equipment or protocol to stay and act as a rescue team, it was safer for Ben and his team to get out and then help put out the fires from the outside.

Just as Ben was about to agree, he reached out to his right to steady himself against the wall when the building started to tremor.

"Dad?!"

That one word made Ben feel like the building had already collapsed onto him and crushed him entirely. They couldn't be here, not now, not today not right this moment in time. Ben couldn't have any of his family here in this building or anywhere near this place when it was about to go down.

"No, no no what are you doing here?"

A course of curse words flooded past his lips on repeat as he flung himself from the wall and across the unsteady ground that felt like it was going to give way beneath his feet. Ben's eyes were locked on Tommy who was trying to run but he was wobbling. The moment Ben reached him he wasted no time in scooping him up and holding him to his chest, pressing his hand to the back of Tommy's head as his eyes darted around to look for (Y/n).

"Where's your mum? Are James and Billy with you? Tommy tell me quickly where are they?!" Ben didn't know if (Y/n) had brought the boys with her or if she was just out with Tommy and James and Billy were with her parents like they were supposed to be. (Y/n) wasn't meant to be here, she never said she was bringing Tommy here, Ben thought she was going across town today.

Why did they have to be here?

"M-mum's behind me... t-the boys aren't with us." Tommy tucked his head into Ben's neck as much as he could with Ben's safety helmet and his thick florescent jacket being in the way. (Y/n) had been right behind him until he spotted Ben and made a beeline for him.

"Ben, are you on your way out yet? The place is gonna go down any minute, the foundations are ruined." Joe's voice over the radio was barely heard due to the rumbling sound the building was creating and the panic that could be heard from miles away.

"I can't get out yet, my family's on this floor!"

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

A choked breath mixed with a moan escaped Ben's mouth as his eyes violently flew open like he had been resuscitated. His head jolted up before slamming back down against the concrete floor when he realised his body was far too weak and paralysed from unconsciousness to move.

Where was he? He was on the ground floor level, he remembered going down and knowing it was a bad idea before the concrete walls started to shake and the world turned black.

How long had it been? He didn't know.

Was he alone? Sammy was on the other side of the floor, but he might have gotten out when Joe told the team to retract. But Ben was still here... oh God, Tommy and (Y/n) had been down here with him the moment the place started to crumble like it was the end of the world. Hundreds more questions started to circle through Ben's mind but he couldn't focus on any of them other than needing to find where his wife and son were.

It wasn't dark.

As Ben tried to open his eyes and focus his vision, he realised that there was still light creeping into this level despite half of it being collapsed. The electrics would have surely become severed and broken so to have light meant there was part of the walls that were broken enough for the outside to creep in. That was a good sign.

When his vision managed to focus properly, Ben choked on his breath when he realised that he was laid on his side with his arms cocooned around Tommy who was squashed against his chest. Ben was relieved he seemed to have fallen- or maybe he laid down himself, in this position because if he fell on top of Tommy he would have crushed him. And if he fell with Tommy on top of him and something fell down on them, it would crush Tommy first and presumably worse than it would Ben.

Trying to keep his breathing calm and slow, Ben counted each breath he took until he was no longer on the verge of panicking as his eyes focused on his eldest boy. His vision narrowed and he held his breath so he could try and focus on Tommy and Ben felt tears welling in his eyes when he knew his boy was breathing rather normally considering the shock he must have gone through.

A shuddering breath left Ben's lips as he relished in holding his boy before he dared to look around and try to find (Y/n). Ben couldn't remember if she had been close by or a distance away, he didn't know if he had been holding onto her as well or if she had been out of his reach.

Ben's eyes soon latched onto his wife's frame only a few feet away from him, she was also laid on her side and thankfully had her front facing Ben. Even when he narrowed his eyes, he couldn't quite tell if her chest was moving and with the sirens and screams and ringing sounds, Ben couldn't hear how she was breathing. But he was certain he could see the muscles and skin around her neck moving and pulling inwards suggesting that she was breathing. He kept watching her for a few more minutes before he noticed her hand twitch and he nodded to himself that she was alive.

That was all he could ask for at this moment. He didn’t dare let his mind think about what was happening with the baby after something like this, they were only five months along and thinking of the results of this kind of event made Ben want to be sick.

As he took calming breaths, Ben tried to think what kind of training he had received for this kind of situation, but he'd never been in this situation before and his training had been years ago. The refresher courses didn't do any good and the last one of those had been at least seven months previous. Deciding he would have to try and make it up as he went along, Ben knew the first thing to do was try and see what injuries he and Tommy had and if he could move or not.

He slowly moved his fingers, feeling the gloves over his hands were grazing against rubble and gravel. When he curled his fingers into his palms, he knew he hadn't broken any knuckles or fingers which was a good start. He moved his focus onto his arms which he tensed before pulling tighter around Tommy. Ben could feel the burns and when his left arm started shaking, he figured it was a rather bad burn. But nothing broken yet.

Raising one hand, Ben slowly grabbed the helmet and visor resting on his head and moved his head to take it off. He knew it was safer to keep it on in case any rubble fell but right now he didn't want it constricting him. He cracked his neck side to side and felt very little strain there which was also good.

Trying to shuffle his weight back just a little, Ben very slowly and gently unravelled his arms from Tommy without moving his boy very much at all. When his arms were free, Ben rolled onto his back and then removed the thick padded gloves that made it hard to bend his fingers, Ben then trailed his hands over his upper body.

His overalls were ripped, burnt and hot to the touch and when he moved his hands down to his chest he hissed and jolted against the concrete when he felt at least two ribs on his right side that were either fractured or broken. Now his breathing felt like it was beginning to hurt now he was aware of the pain he was beginning to notice. Moving his hands lower, he grazed only his fingertips against his body so he wouldn't apply any pain or pressure to any injuries he had.

His torso felt strained and bruised but nothing major. Moving his hands to the floor, he felt around him for any bricks or lumps of concrete before he pressed his flat palms to the ground in order to sit himself up.

Ben took a moment to control his breathing and ride out the dizziness in his head before he dared to check over his legs. His right leg had a rather blistering burn to his upper thigh and the way it sizzled like he was sitting on a barbecue made Ben guess it had reached the muscle.

"Shit."

He left the burn alone, not having any water or gauze to clean it with anyway, so he focused on trailing his hands lower down his body.

He'd dislocated his left knee, great.

But when Ben looked at his legs, a sound resembling a moan escaped his lips before he groaned and felt himself beginning to cry without shedding any tears. There was a chunk of concrete like one of the pillars holding up the ceiling and it was laid on Ben's right ankle, cutting off his sight of his foot.

For two, maybe three minutes, Ben sat choking on dust and air wondering if it had gone completely through his ankle and chopped off his foot. Without being able to see his foot or being able to see the damage to his ankle, it felt possible that his foot was no longer connected to his leg. But Ben could feel his whole leg twitching and it didn't feel like his foot wasn't there, so surely it had to be, right?

Ben found it horrifying that he could feel no pain in his leg other than his blistered thigh. He wasn't suffering agonising pain from his ankle bone clearly being crushed by concrete, nor were his nerves shooting with pains or his muscles twitching and spasming with pain. His leg just felt numb from the knee down.

Trying to ignore his own injuries when he heard Tommy lowly groaning, Ben tried to turn to the left but he ended up laying back down on his side to ease the pain he was feeling. He gently brushed Tommy's hair from his eyes that were just beginning to flutter open like butterfly wings. He took a moment to adjust and look at Ben before hi pupils blew wide and a strangled breath escaped his bleeding lips.

The eight year old's breathing started to increase and he began to shake as a silent cry escaped his lips making it clear that his memory was sharp and coming back to him quickly.

"Sshh, hey, hey I'm here buddy. I'm here and I've got you, it's gonna be okay I promise." Ben brushed his hand over Tommy's face, knowing his voice was scratching but he hoped he could still calm him down. He kissed Tommy's forehead and continued to brush his hand over his features to calm him down, listening as his breathing calmed down but he started to choke on wails. "I'm here, you're okay."

Tommy reached his hand up and clung to Ben's arm for a few minutes until his wails turned to sniffs and gasps for a proper breath.

"Tommy, baby I need to check you over to see where you're hurt. I'm gonna turn you on your back, just tell me if anything hurts, okay?" Ben took Tommy's hand to keep him calm when he sat up before he gently eased Tommy over onto his back.

Ben felt something stabbing his chest when he realised he'd called Tommy baby like he used to when he was younger and he didn't revolt against the term. It was a pet name Ben used for (Y/n) and all the boys but Tommy started to say he was too old to be called that, but right now he didn't seem to bother, if anything it seemed to reassure him.

Ben slowly let go of Tommy's hand so he could check him over, wincing when Tommy let out a cry when Ben touched his left shoulder which felt dislocated. Ben tried to breathe slowly and calmly to get Tommy to copy him as he continued to check him over, noting that he had at least two broken or fractured ribs and his right leg felt both blistered and broken. But he didn't feel any pain around his torso or chest other than bruising which was a good sign that he might not have any internal injuries.

"Okay, I'm gonna sit you up, put your shoulder in place and then sort out my knee, okay?"

"Daddy don't... i-it's okay please-"

"It'll hurt a lot less if I put it back in place, I know what I'm doing I swear. Count to three for me baby, please." Ben eased Tommy up before reaching around to hold onto his shoulder. He knew it was going to hurt but he also knew leaving it out of its socket would be a bad idea if they had to get themselves out of here because he could catch his shoulder and make it worse.

"O-one... two-" Tommy cut himself off with a piercing scream when Ben pushed his arm straight up and they both heard it popping back into its socket. It was better to do it when he wasn't expecting it and get it over with.

"Good lad, now you just sit there for a minute, okay?"

Placing one hand on his left thigh, Ben held his lower leg with the other hand and closed his eyes for a few seconds as he calmed himself down. He'd done this before with someone else's knee, but not to himself. But he couldn't move or bend his knee if it was popped out of the joint and at some point he needed to check on his shattered ankle. Drawing in a deep breath through gritted teeth, Ben opened his eyes, focusing his gaze on his knee as he held his breath deep in his lungs.

One... two... three.

Curse words flowed freely from his chapped lips along with a scream of pain when he heard the sickening pop telling him that he'd done it.

Turning his head, Ben looked over at Tommy who was cringing from the scene and the sound he just witnessed and tears were now streaking down his face that was covered in grime and dust. But when Tommy moved his head and caught sight of (Y/n), Ben's voice caused him to quickly look back at his dad.

"Hey, eyes over here. Your mum's okay, she's just unconscious like we were a bit ago. When I sort my foot out, I'm gonna go and make sure she's okay and then we'll get out of here, it's gonna be fine I swear." Ben didn't want Tommy to sit and stare at (Y/n) because he would upset himself and convince himself that she wasn't okay. Ben didn't want Tommy to torture himself looking at (Y/n) knowing that he couldn't help, nor did he want Tommy to go and sit with her in case she had any injuries that he would be able to see.

Pressing his hand under his knee, Ben pulled it until his knee was bent up and he could shuffle closer and bend his other knee to get as close to his damaged ankle as possible. The boulder crushing his limb wasn't too extensive, it wasn't very long in length and it was rather thin which he guessed was a good thing. Daring to lean his head over the boulder, Ben sighed in utter relief when he saw his foot on the other side. He had truly believed he would look over to see a severed limb looking back at him. His foot was bent to the left at an odd angle and Ben didn't have to move the boulder to know that the bone of his ankle would be shattered.

Without even thinking, Ben moved his cautious hand to try and touch his foot that was clad in his boot but to his utter surprise, his foot jerked at the contact which made his ankle move under its constraint of the boulder.

Ben tried to swallow a howl at the sudden agony he felt when a shooting nerve sprung to life in his ankle and bolted all the way up his leg. Now he could feel the pain instead of the numbness. He tried to think what he was going to do and how to get his foot free and as he leaned his head to the side to assess his ankle, he noticed there might just be enough room to bend his foot and slide it under.

"Tommy, can you shuffle over here for me?" Ben cocked his head to the side, watching as Tommy slowly dragged himself over whilst trying not to move his broken leg too much. But when he looked over at Ben's ankle, more tears fell from his eyes and he started to whimper.

"D-daddy, y-your..." He couldn't seem to find the words he was thinking of so he just pointed at the sight that made him feel sick.

"I know it looks bad, but baby I need you to help me. I need you to lean over and help push my foot under the concrete, I can't get it free on my own."

Tommy violently shook his head, trying to retreat but Ben reached over and grabbed hold of his hand. His eyes were pleading, he wouldn't ask this if he could do this on his own. Ben didn't want his boy to see him in pain or witness this but there was no way Ben could bend his damaged foot the other way and push it under the boulder as well as trying to lift the boulder enough to slot his foot free.

"Baby I need your help or else I can't go and help your mum. Please?" Tommy started to shake but he finally relented and nodded. "Good boy, all you have to do is bend my foot to the other side and then push it when I tell you to, okay?"

Tommy turned his head to the side when he shuffled closer to the boulder and Ben could see his stomach churning and his throat tightening like he was going to be sick. He rested his left arm over the boulder and held onto Ben's boot, slowly pushing it like he was moving the hand of a clock into the right position but the noise Ben's ankle made caused Tommy to wail. He shivered and shrunk down when Ben growled through gritted teeth and snapped his eyes closed, he had to try and be strong but the pain was making it very hard.

Moving his hands, Ben slipped his gloves back on before he slotted his hands under the small gap the boulder had left. His arms started to shake and he felt his stomach muscles tightening when he pulled up the boulder before nodding for Tommy to push his foot.

Ben tried his best to pull his leg back but it was harder than he thought when his whole leg was numb to the point he could barely feel it. When the edge of his boot barely scraped past the boulder Ben let it drop against the floor before he leaned back on his hands and tipped his head back, closing his eyes tightly. Now the weight was gone Ben could feel every inch of skin and every nerve pulsing and tingling in his ankle like it was coming back to life and he knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the pain started to arise.

"Good lad." Ben breathed through the words as he tried to stop himself from becoming light-headed.

When he dared to examine his ankle, Ben knew he would be lucky if his foot would survive with how shattered the bone was, it looked like his ankle had been flattened and there was a piece of bone poking through the skin that was oozing blood like a small river.

"Tommy, baby you stay there and I'm gonna go see to your mum, I'll be right there you won't lose sight of me for a second I promise."

"O-okay."

When Tommy nodded, Ben managed a tight-lipped smile before he slowly rolled over so that he was resting on his front. He knew it would be easier to crawl over rather than try and stand with a shattered ankle and a dislocated knee, the pain would be too intense to bear. As Ben started crawling over to (Y/n), he started to wonder how long it would be before search and rescue got here and got them out.

There were countless other people trapped here who needed to escape but Ben was praying that since they were on the ground floor, they would be seen to quicker.

They needed help.

[dream-girls-evil]

Ratched: Episode 6 Reactions

The Aftermath

The search is on!!! Yeah, they really didn’t think this through.

Dolly is a resourceful cookie tho! It’s kinda funny to see Edmund following her lead through all of this.

Oooh an empty farm, lucky them!

I know Gwen is going to be okay, but this is still stressful to watch. And if I didn’t know that she was going to be okay, I’d think this was the turning point where Mildred becomes heartless and decides Edmund needs to die. Well, she still might decide he needs to die.

I know Mildred was probably just going to confess that she’s a lesbian, but I wish it was like, everything. And that she got the chance.

Aw Gwen is trying to smile 😭

Lmao Dolly is so turned on by this whole thing

Ahhh and the real Edmund comes out. He knew what was happening the entire time.

Dolly you DO NOT POINT A SHOTGUN AT SOMEONE

Dolly scares him?? I mean okay valid, don’t wanna be on the run with a wildcard, but it’s not like he’s super trustworthy either

Edmund’s demeanor changes so fast, I really can’t pin him down

Ah so the priest killer has a soft spot for animals

But Dolly is super chill with it all! She def grew up on a farm

Ooh Mildred got a thing about puppets, and I bet she’s going to try to take Gwen to a marionette show, or try to go to one because Gwen wants to, and it’s going to bring back some terrible memory

“Some kids have all the luck” ummm Gwen I don’t think Mildred did tho

Aw Gwen. She’s so sweet and thinks she’s come up with a lovely date for the two of them. She doesn’t realize that the marionettes weren’t a good memory for Mildred.

Gwen. Gwen. Look at the way Mildred is standing. Arms crossed in front of her, avoiding her eyes...please don’t push her into something she doesn’t want to do.

Gwen THAT’S NOT IT!!! She thinks Mildred’s just afraid of being vulnerable and letting herself enjoy something, but that’s not it. The woman is traumatized.

Also maybe you shouldn’t be discussing all of this so loudly???

The Puppet Show

They’re not even going to sit in the back so they don’t block the kids’ view?? Rude!

Wow OF COURSE it’s a story about children whose parents abandon them. yikes.

Oh hey I was right, they are foster siblings

I know she’s probably hallucinating like, most of this, but it’s still unnerving to hear the kids laugh at the abuse

And we already know that they get separated at some point

Aw no this is starting off so happy and something awful is going to happen. Their “parents” are going to be psychos and treat them like living dolls or something aren’t they?

Oh nope EVEN WORSE

Fuck, so this is what Mildred was talking about when she said she’d never do that with him again

Did Mildred leave without him? Ah, so there’s the guilt

Oh fuck she flipped out. Oh honey.

Mildred you need to explain.

Is she gonna tell Gwen the brother was Edmund tho, is the big question, cuz that would change everything.

Is the middle of a restaurant really the best place for this conversation???

Oh man she did tell her!!!

Really? We’re cutting away now? Don’t get to see Gwen’s reaction?

Caught

Dolly you need to be a little more alarmed by all of this!!!

I feel like either there’s people outside and she’ll get killed trying to protect him or if they do get away, he’s gonna kill her himself because she’s too reckless

This is all nauseatingly dramatic. Did he really imagine a normal life for them somewhere in all of this??

Dolly don’t try anything stupid now

Aaand she’s trying something stupid

RIP Dolly

Wait Mildred is back already?? WHAT HAPPENED WITH GWEN?!

Ooh Mildred is MAD. And I mean, with good reason. He disobeyed her and look at the mess they’re both in now.

Fuck the governor’s here? Gwen didn’t tell him anything, did she? She isn’t going to, is she??

Lmao it’s very satisfying to see Betsy disillusioned with Hanover

I would like to slap the governor please

Lol Mildred’s little smile at Gwen’s comment. Don’t get too excited honey; she’s just stating the facts. It doesn’t mean she’s cool with this.

Fuck fuck fuck this is not going according to Mildred’s plan!!!

And I bet Hanover is going to blame Mildred for this

Fuck he’s pulling the funding for the entire hospital?!

“You’re fired. Sorry you got shot.” ASSHOLE.

Hey, where the heck is Lenore?

Thoughts and Theories

So like, really not a fan of the lowkey implication that Mildred’s a lesbian because she was sexually abused as a child, but it’s Murphy, so this is the least of what I expected when I found out that there were going to be wlw characters. And WOW we finally know the whole story about her and Edmund--and more importantly, Gwen knows the whole story about her and Edmund. I still can’t believe we didn’t get to see her full reaction to that! Did she ask any questions? Did they still enjoy the rest of their mini-vacation? What happened?? 

What we do know is this: Gwen has been against the death penalty from the beginning, so her trying to delay the execution does not necessarily mean she’s trying to help Mildred, but, considering the situation...idk. I feel like Gwen would sympathize and because she cares about Mildred, she doesn’t want her to have to watch her brother die. Also, since there’s only two episodes left, and I know they end the season in a relationship, Gwen clearly hasn’t been too put off by this knowledge about Mildred. But the question remains: did Mildred explain all of what she’s been doing at the asylum? That she wants to free Edmund at all? That it was her trusting him to follow her plan that got Gwen shot? I doubt it.

Edmund is still so hard for me to read, and I don’t know why. He’s clearly not a sociopath, just someone filled with a lot of rage, but still the way he switches so fast from acting very menacing and tough to apparently being a romantic who doesn’t consider himself scary is...weird. It’s a lot like Mildred, too, and I’m not sure I’m a fan of this tendency in either of them. Obviously people are multifaceted, and I love characters who are badass and villainous but secretly super soft with the ones they love, but something about the way these two are written, it just doesn’t quite manage to come off as natural. Anyway, what’s more interesting is how he and Mildred differ, and how it’s clearly going to keep causing problems. Where Mildred is calculated, Edmund is impulsive; when she asserts her control, he rebels. There’s clearly been friction between them since the beginning, but after this whole mess there’s only a few ways it can play out. 

1) Mildred’s going to crack down on controlling him, and Edmund will lash out at her and run off on his own again

2) Mildred will blame him for Gwen getting hurt and decide he’s beyond helping, so she’ll let him go to the chair and he’ll escape and want revenge for her betrayal

3) Edmund will realize that he’ll never succeed on his own and want her to protect him, but their desperation over the execution date will likely lead to him ending up back on the run and being hunted because they don’t have time for a better plan

[kirishwima]

Good day, I fell in love with your head-canons and I hope you don't mind me asking for one that maybe long. If you do not mind can you do head-canons with the RFA+V and a MC who has a type of fragile bone and chronic fatigue disease; that causes her to have: frequent nosebleeds, easy bruising, can’t stand hot nor cold temperatures, headaches, feeling dizzy, and severe tiredness(after usual physical or mental activity)?

hi lovely! from what you’re describing, unless this is a congenital disorder i’m gonna go ahead and assume it might be leukemia (probably CML?), so just to have a name to use in these headcanons in case it’s required, I’ll be mentioning that. If you’d rather I don’t, just shoot me a message and I’ll edit it! xxi’ll also be using she/her pronouns since you specified them!

YOOSUNG:

* He was always aware of how frail MC seemed to be-from when she first entered the RFA chat and how she’d off-handedly mention new bruises she’d find on herself here and there, laughing them off and blaming her clumsiness, to how she’d seem so tired by nightfall, barely ever staying up for late night talks with him.

* When they met at the party MC was stunning, and Yoosung wanted nothing more than to be besides her all day and night-yet within the hour MC seemed worn out, shivering in her dress as she leaned against a wall looking out to the sea of pepole ahead of them.

* Yoosung had said nothing, simply came to lend her his jacket to wear and lean on the wall next to her, patiently waiting for her to strike up a conversation if she wished.

* She’d explained to him a little bit about her condition, how it manifested with symptoms like what she’d exhibited, self-conscious as she wrapped Yoosung’s jacket tighter around herself.

* Yet Yoosung never seemed bothered or confused like she thought he might-he simply nodded along, making little mental notes of what he should be careful with when going out on dates with MC. That’s....really all his concern was, lol.

* He’d be a sweet considerate boyfriend through it all, and would learn everything hee could of MC’s condition so he could take care of her in case of emergencies. Superman Yoosung to the rescue!!

ZEN:

* He’s a little worried when MC came to his home, the same bright bubbly sweetheart he met in the RFA chatroom, only looking pale and tired, wincing at the bright lights in Zen’s apartment.

* She excused herself, saying she simply had a headace, and Zen instantly guided her to the couch, shutting down the main lights in favor of the fairy lights he had strung around the TV once for a party and then forgot to take down-which worked in his favor now as they dimly illuminated the room. 

* He did everything he could to make MC comfortable-brought her tea, pain killers, let her rest her head on his shoulder as they chatted. She eventually told him about her diagnosis-how she’ll get headaches like this often and bruise with the slightest of touches, which made Zen flinch-he’d never want to bruise MC! Never!

* “So...if I kiss you...” he started, a furious blush on his cheeks, “would your lips bruise?”

* MC blinked owlishly up at him before smiling a menace.

* “I don’t know Zen...why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

* Sneaky MC, sneaky, but well darn played.

JAEHEE:

* The moment MC lets any of their symptoms slip in the RFA chatroom, Jaehee’s Mom Mode is on. She’s looking through google for potential causes and treatments, before MC stops her, explaining how this is normal and telling Jahee about her disease.

* With a name to the cause, Jaehee’s worries are not stilled. She’ll want to know everything she can about MC’s illness-if it’s leukemia, she’ll be shocked at the many types that exist, and gently prod MC for further information she can use to educate herself.

* When living together with MC she’ll be the most considerate girlfriend-she’ll always have handerkchiefs in her bag in case of a potential nose bleed, will have a perfect little rest area in the back of the cafe, one that’s solely MC’s to rest whenever they feel overwhelmed or fatigued, and any necessary medication will always be in their shared medicine cabinet. You’re never gonna forget to take any medication with Baehee around!

* All that aside though, she’ll be the gentlest girlfriend, running her hands through MC’s hair whenever she gets a headache, kissing her forehead when she complains about having to rest instead of helping Jaehee out at the coffee shop- “I’d rather you be well-rested and here to greet me when I come back home” she admits with a blush, and well, that’s enough to convince MC to lay back in bed.

* Just. Best girl 10/10 really

JUMIN:

* MC has to explain their condition to him when, a few hours after visiting him at his home for the first time, her nose starts to bleed. 

* He’s ready to dial up every doctor he knows as MC lays on the couch with a tissue in one hand, the other clasped on the bridge of her nose. She has to shuffle on the couch and grip Jumin by his suit’s sleeve to convince him to come sit down with her, to explain everything to him as he listens with a small frown.

* When MC’s done, he simply says “I don’t like this.”

* A million thoughts run through MC’s mind-does he not like her? Does he not like that she has this condition? What does he mean by-

* “I want you to meet my doctors. I...seeing you in pain hurts something in me, here” he says, pointing to his chest-there’s a profound confusion on his face, as if this feeling is as foreign as could be, “So I want them to treat you until you’re back in optimal health.”

* “Awe Jumin”, MC teases, “you’re worried for me?” 

* They weren’t expecting his awestruck reaction. 

* “Worry...” he repeats, his eyes glossy as he thinks, “yes, I suppose it is. It’s...it’s very similar to what I felt when V’s eyes-no, no matter. Yes, I am worried about you. Let me help you, please.”

* Even if MC explains that this is a certain diagnosis, that she’s already being treated for it as much as the doctors can help, Jumin will still insist she sees more doctors still, if only for a second opinion.

* It’s this man’s way of taking care of you MC please just roll with it for now and give him a smooch as a thank you

SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:

* He’ll honestly be the most scared one out of everyone in the RFA. 

* After coming to terms with his emotions towards MC, to know she suffers from such a condition, to know there’s nothing he can do to help-people aren’t machines, he can’t simply hack his way around her immune system-he’s powerless, and that’s the one position he never, ever lets himself be in.

* It’ll take some time for him to get used to the thought and fully accept MC in his life-but whenever she needs him, he’ll be there in a flash. Sure, he’ll be a litttle confused at first, but he’s a care-taker by heart, and many of MC’s symptoms remind him of his brother enough to instinctively know what he has to do.

* When MC’s tired, when her joints start to groan and ache, he’ll know to gently pick her up off the couch and tuck her into bed, laying besides her with a hand around her waist until she settles down. He’ll hold the bridge of her nose if it starts to bleed, tease her light-heartedly until the bleeding stops.

* It’ll hurt him to see her in pain, more than he’ll ever show, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t help her to the best of his capabilities. It’s what he swore himself he’d do after all.

V/JIHYUN:

* He’s also a care-taker by nature, but in a different sense than Seven-he’s gentle, very much so, but he’ll hide all of his own fears and struggles from his loved one in fear of burdening them further on top of what they’re already dealing with.

* So when he learns of MC’s condition, he’ll walk on eggshells around her for a while-he’ll never hide his love for her, he’ll always be there if she needs him, but he’ll feel distant, never talking about the smallest thing that bothers him.

* It’ll take a lot for MC to pull him out of his self-made cage, explain to him that burdens are made to be shared-that her physical condition doesn’t make her psyche weak, her soul’s not as fragile as he seems to think it to be.

* She’s not Rika, is what she really wants to say, but V knows what she means, and so eventually he’ll open up, holding MC close when sharing his fears or worries, some of them concerning MC’s condition sometimes.

* Despite it all he loves MC-and he’ll be the most caring boyfriend you’d ever imagine. Tired whilst on a date or getting a headache? Baby mint boy has painkillers ready for you and will carry you princess-style back to the car, even if everyone around them watches. Get a nosebleed whilst wearing your favorite new dress? Mr Minty will help you stop the bleeding then gently coax you into a different outfit whilst taking care of the blood stains by hand (bleach and cold water work wonders~). 

* Just. Best boyfriend material, really

-send me mystic messenger headcanons for character reactions!- 

[mint-yooxgi]

To The Top - Yandere!Serial Killer!Jongin X Reader Drabble

Part Two of Five to Ayla’s Death Drabbles - Based off of this TSFP - A Payback Mini-Series for @ninibears-erigom, of which I write about one certain Serial Killer that drives her a little crazy ;)

Pairing: Jongin X Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Mature

Words: 3,332

Summary: The one in which he takes you to a carnival.

A/n: Surprise! Time for the next instalment of Ayla’s Death Drabbles! I hope you all enjoy this one as much as I did writing it. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

A sigh escapes your lips for what feels like the hundredth time this evening. Not even the flashing lights and the faint laughter coming from the rides of the carnival can pull you out of your sour mood.

Looking to your right, you see Jongin shifting slightly from foot to foot, seemingly nervous. You roll your eyes.

“I’m surprised you even let me out of the house,” you deadpan, not wanting to be here at all, least of all with him.

“Behave, or I’ll take you back and find another way to entertain myself with you. Maybe with something sharp,” he hisses, grasping your arm with a firm grip.

“Fine. Just don’t expect me to kiss you at the top of the ferris wheel,” you huff.

“Whatever,” you hear him mutter under his breath in response.

He notices you rolling your eyes at him, and he lets out a sigh of his own. All he wants to do is show you how good of a man he can be for you, but you always make it so difficult for him. He knows he’s going to have to work even harder for the rest of the night if he wants to at least start to be on your good side, and make this a night for the both of you to remember fondly.

“Well, are we just going to stand here all night, or are we actually going to be doing something?” Your voice manages to pull him out of his thoughts, noticing how your eyes drift to the rollercoaster off to the side. “You did drag me out here with you.”

He lets out another sigh, “can’t you at least pretend to be happy? This is supposed to be a date after all. I did let you out of the house.”

Despite his slightly harsh tone, you can see the slight plea he so desperately tries to hide behind his eyes. You take a deep breath to steady your nerves, deciding to go against your better judgment for the moment given that he could take you back to his house and lock you away for who knows how long again.

“Fine,” you lock eyes with him, “but don’t think for one second that I’m considering this a date.”

Even though he knew you were going to say something along those lines, it still doesn’t mean your words hurt any less when he hears them. He feels his heart pang in his chest. Why can’t you just give him a chance? Can’t you see that he’s trying?

Saying nothing in response, he squeezes your arm slightly before dragging you towards your first ride of the evening. The rollercoaster, which you’ve not so subtly been eyeing.

Even though it’s a small one, your heart races at feeling the thrill of a rollercoaster after being cooped up for so long. It’ll be the closest thing to freedom you’ve had in a while, and you find that the line can’t move quick enough.

The whole time while you’re waiting in line, Jongin can visibly see the excitement grow on your features. A fact that warms his heart, even though he knows you’re doing your best to tone it down while being near him. He can tell you don’t want him to know how happy you really are at the prospect of finally being allowed out of the house. He also isn’t worried about you running off for help, he knows you know the consequences if you even tried to escape him.

Making it to the front of the line, Jongin notices you staring hopefully at the back of the rollercoaster. A small smile pulls at his lips as he watches you walk swiftly to the final cart to make sure no one else gets it.

Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but be giddy about this, even with him so near. You can feel your heart racing in your chest as the train makes it’s way up the first hill of the track, barely registering Jongin who is sitting right beside you.

You cannot help the laugh of pure joy that escapes your lips are you feel the wind rushing through your hair as the train whips around the track. You haven’t felt this much joy in, well, you can’t remember, but you’re grateful for this moment.

Getting off of the rollercoaster, there’s a slight bounce to your step as you make your way towards the exit of the ride. Jongin can’t keep his own smile off his face as he watches you with your newly found expression of joy painted on your features. His own heart races in his chest, knowing even though you were reluctant to come out with him tonight, thinking he must have some anterior motives, you are still enjoying yourself. He can’t help but to believe that he also has some part in your joy. That is, he is the cause of it. He knows it’s probably a long shot, but he doesn’t care at the moment. All he cares about, is you.

After going on a few more rides, and watching your mood significantly increase, Jongin leads you over to all the concession stands. He’s noticed how you’ve finally relaxed around him, and you genuinely seem to be enjoying yourself around him now.

He knows he shouldn’t keep thinking of this as a date, but he can’t help it.

“What would you like to eat? Stay here and I’ll get it for you,” he motions to the picnic tables off to the side, and you nod your head.

“Just get me whatever, I’m not fussy,” you reply, already heading over to the tables.

Jongin watches your back as your figure retreats away from him, a slight swing to your step. He can tell the look on his face reflects nothing but his love and admiration for you. Now, if only you could see that.

Sitting down at one of the tables as you wait, you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you rest your head on your open palm. Leaning against the table, you stare off into the distance, thinking over the events of the evening so far.

Despite your rocky start to the evening when you arrived to the carnival, you haven’t had this much fun in ages. Luckily, most of the time you can ignore Jongin and forget he’s with you, but overall he hasn’t been too much of a menace like he usually is to you. You’re actually enjoying yourself for once, and with him being there with you no less.

He’s actually been quite the gentleman the entire night. After his one comment at the start, you were doubtful you would have a good time with him, but he’s actually not too bad company to keep. He’s constantly making sure you’re okay, and doing whatever you’d like for the evening. It’s like seeing an entirely new side to him. A side which, you almost hate to admit to yourself, you like.

You’re also grateful that he hasn’t tried anything with you. No trying to subtly grab your hand or put his arm around your shoulder. No trying to coerce you into going into the stupid ‘Tunnel of Love’ with him, or anything of the sorts. It amazes you that he’s been respecting your boundaries like this, especially in public. It makes it seem like your relationship, if you could even call it that, with him is almost normal.

A few more minutes pass by and you begin to wonder where he’s gone. A slight frown pulls at your features, seeing as it’s been quite some time since he went off to grab the two of you some food.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Jongin placing a tray of food on the table before you. Glancing up at him as he takes the seat across from you, he sends you a gentle smile. You simply blink back at him, resisting the urge to smile back, a fact which he does not fail to notice.

“I hope this is alright,” he says, eyes briefly flicking down to the food on the tray.

Looking down, you see some of your favourites, but what makes you really gasp in surprise is the candy floss he’s bought for you. Noticing your gaze locked on the candy floss, he smiles to himself.

“I thought you might like that,” he feels his chest swell with pride as you look up as him with slightly awe filled eyes.

“It’s my favourite,” you reply, the corner of your lip tugging upwards in a small smile.

“What’s a carnival without a bit of sweets, am I right?” He grins, noticing how you chuckle slightly in agreement, making his heart swell in content. 

You laughed. You finally laughed at something he’s said, and not humourlessly. He’s finally done something that’s brought you joy, instead of pain and heartache, and he could not be happier.

“I, uh, I also won you this,” averting his gaze, almost shyly, he reaches behind his back and pulls out a small stuffed bear from his back pocket.

The look you give him, wide eyes staring at him in slight wonder, is enough to make his heart skip a beat. He watches as you hesitantly reach across the table to grab the bear out of his hand. Your fingers touch for the briefest of moments, and he can’t help but to breathe in sharply at the jolt of electricity he feels when your skin touches his.

“Thank you,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, but he still manages to hear. He finds it adorable how you refuse to meet his eyes, instead opting to look down at the bear now resting in your hands.

He finds he can only nod slightly in response, looking away from you shyly as he sees the ghost of a smile resting on your lips. The way the lights of the carnival reflect off your features only serve to make his heart race in his chest. You look so beautiful right now, and he could not ask for a better evening.

The two of you eat in silence after that, neither daring to break this mutual bond between the two of you. He certainly doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries and ruin a seemingly good evening. Besides, he’s still got one more thing planned.

Once you’ve both finished eating, the two of you decide to walk around the carnival for a bit to digest before going on any more rides. You notice him glancing at you from the corner of his eyes every now and then, looking briefly down at your hand that rests beside his almost longingly. Taking a leap of faith, you grab his hand in yours, hearing him let out a small gasp.

“Don’t think too much into this,” you say quickly, looking away in slight embarrassment. “I’m only doing this because I don’t want to feel like I owe you after tonight.”

Although your words hurt him slightly, he cannot help but be overcome with joy at feeling your hand resting in his. It’s as if your hands were made for each other, with yours intertwining perfectly with his, fingers and all. His heart is beating so loudly in his chest that he’s sure you can hear it with how close you are to him.

After about ten more minutes of walking around, you both agree to go on one more ride, then head back, seeing as it is getting late. You hesitate slightly as he starts to lead you over to the ferris wheel.

“Come on, the city looks beautiful from the top,” he coaxes, though the next words pain him slightly to say. “You don’t have to sit close to me.”

Taking a deep breath, you reply, “fine.”

Getting into the line, you drop his hand in favour of crossing your arms over your chest, a fact that makes him pout slightly. The closer you get to the front, the more you notice Jongin looking up at the huge ferris wheel laid out before you in slight intimidation. You’d say he almost looks uneasy.

Once seated in the cart, you make sure to sit as far away from him on the bench as you possibly can, only serving to make his pout more noticeable. However, as soon as the cart jolts into motion, he’s gripping onto the handrail for dear life, eyes wide like saucers.

You burst out laughing, “what? Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights!”

“Am not,” he replies, voice small as you quirk a brow at his vice-like grip his hands have on the rail.

“The Serial Killer that’s scared of heights,” you chuckle, amused. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

To your luck, just as you say that, the ferris wheel stops, right when you’re at the very top. The cart sways slightly from the sudden halt in movement, only causing Jongin to pale slightly.

Chuckling to yourself once more, you shake your head. You’ll never quite understand why he wanted to take you on this ride if he’s so scared of heights. However, you can’t help the awe filled gasp that escapes your lips as you look out across the horizon to see the city lights illuminating the night sky from across the way.

“Told you the view was amazing,” he says, a slight smugness to his tone as he takes in your expression.

Turning to look at his smug face, you smirk, and his face falls. He begins to protest as you start to rock the cart slightly back and forth, causing him to hold on for dear life.

“No, no! Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!” He pleads with you. “I’m sorry!”

“Oh?” Again, you quirk a brow at him as you halt your movements as the wheel begins to spin once more.

Nothing is said between the two of you for a moment as you both attempt to catch your breaths. You, from laughing, and him form panicking. Once he has caught his breath, he breaks the silence.

“I truly am sorry,” he says, looking down at his hands. “For everything I’ve done to you.” You remain silent as he continue to speak. “And I know it doesn’t make up for anything I’ve done, but please, know that I am being as sincere as I can when I say this. I love you, I truly do, and I’m sorry.”

You notice him let go of the bar with one hand, seemingly stopping himself from reaching out to you midway. You stare at his hand before moving your gaze up and locking eyes with him. You can see the sincerity swimming behind his orbs, as well as all the love, passion, and sorrow he holds for you. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Before you can reply, the cart comes to a jolting stop, right at the top once more. Your eyes widen as you feel him latch onto your side, a small goodness escaping your lips as he clings to you. You can physically feel him shaking, whether it’s from his emotions or the height, you can’t tell.

“Sorry,” he whispers, hesitantly starting to pull away from you before you stop him.

“This is fine until we touch ground,” you say quickly, rubbing your hand gently against his back. At this, he swears he’s died and gone to heaven, but your next words pull him back to reality. “I’m not going to say everything’s okay and forgiven, because it isn’t. You’ve hurt me, Jongin. In ways no human should have to experience. You have a lot to fucking prove to me if you really are sincere in your words, cause at this particular moment in time, I don’t trust you. How do I know what you say is the truth? How do I know you’re not just lying to me again?” You look forwards, refusing to meet his burning gaze the whole time you speak. “I can only take so much pain,” you face remains passive as you speak, refusing to let him see your emotions. “You’ve put me through hell. A hell which you’ve created. Are you really willing to pull me out?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, his voice firm. “Without hesitation.”

“Good,” you turn to look him in the eyes, and he can see the internal conflict you’re having right now, especially with having him so close to you with nowhere to go. “Because if I can expect the future to be anything like tonight,” you pause, hesitant in saying your next words, “I think I might fall for you.”

His world stops. The only thing he can register at the moment is the ringing of his ears, or maybe that’s just the sound of his heart beating out of his chest. His grip subconsciously tightens itself around your waist as he stares deep into your eyes. He knows they’re shining for you, with his love and affection, but most of all, hope. You’ve given him hope.

He can still feel your hand on his back as he glances down at your lips. He knows it’s a long shot, but all he wants to do in this moment is kiss you. Pull you close and kiss you, to let you feel his emotions for you, his passion that burns brightly, and only, for you.

Noticing his stare, you freeze slightly, wondering why it’s taking so damn long for this stupid ferris wheel to start moving again. Your own heart is racing in your chest as you can’t help but flick your own eyes down to his lips. They look so soft and inviting, that you end up licking yours subconsciously.

Seeing this, Jongin swallows, his own lips parting slightly in the next moment as he begins to lean in. He stops himself, glancing into your eyes to see if this is okay with you. He sees no sign of discomfort, so he hesitantly brings his hand up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb gently over your skin.

It’s so small, the movement of your head, that if it weren’t for him now cupping your cheek, he would have missed the nod you give him. Without another moment of hesitation, he presses his lips to yours.

His eyes close in bliss as he feels your lips on his, hearing you inhale sharply as he pulls you slightly closer to him. The same electricity he felt earlier when your fingers touched, he feels now, only ten times more powerful.

The hand you have resting on his back grips his shirt, allowing your own eyes to flutter closed as you kiss him. You feel your heart skip a beat in your chest at how gentle he’s being with you. 

All too soon, you’re pulling away from him, and he takes this opportunity to rest his forehead on yours. His lips are parted slightly as his chest rises and falls, eyes remaining closed as he takes in this moment with you, right here, right now. This most certainly is going to be a night he’ll remember forever.

“I love you,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look into your own once more.

He jumps slightly as the cart begins to move once more, causing a small smile to pull at the corners of your lips.

“I know,” you whisper, just as your cart reaches ground.

Once the two of you exit the ride, a sort of silence surrounds the two of you, but this time, it’s comfortable. Jongin can still feel his heart racing in his chest at the events of the night, and he takes one final risk as you’re both walking to the main entrance of the carnival.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, a smile pulls at his lips as he feels you lean into his side. He could not have asked for a better night.

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power S01E06 - System Failure

There's no way the title doesn't refer to the mechanic princess. The way she appears hidden in shadows in the OP makes me wonder if she's going to turn out to be one of the "bad guys," at least initially. It's interesting that she looks threatening _before_ revealing herself to the camera smiling, if she were a traitor it'd be the other way around, right? Hm. Anyway, enough speculation, let's do this!

What's with this horror house atmosphere

Huh. Is the princess a recluse?

They are really setting her up as some weird mad scientist.

I wonder if she's hidden in shadows because the war against The Horde seems to have some "Nature vs Tech" elements, so she's working in something that could be associated to the enemy. Hm.

Oh, she's like Scorpia but for the good guys (at least I hope she's one of the good guys) Same "first impressions don't match their personality" vibes.

cursed screenshot makes me gag just to imagine that amount of hair in my mouth

I really like the Doc Ock but with hair idea.

And here's She-Ra's excuse to visit her.

Or not.

She... doesn't have a lot of danger awareness does she

That's a cool visual. I keep wondering about the tech / nature divide. It's not really just that, right? Bright Moon _has_ technology, it's just better integrated to their surroundings versus whatever the Horde is doing in the fright zone, and they _were_ looking for "First Ones" artifacts in the first episode.

Huh. That's more obscure than the other names. I was expecting something obvious derived from working with machines.

Okay, so she doesn't have a bad reputation because of what she does. I guess I can discard that theory.

I love getting an in-show explanation for where Bow gets his weapons.

Who _is_ Bow anyway? We know more about everyone else.

There's no way this episode is going to end without Bow saving the day using his sonic arrow.

Hey, confirmation that She-Ra's transformations take real time. Can't wait for an enemy to attack her while she's transforming.

Interesting. The change in the subtitles make me think this is not as important as it could be but both Bow and She-Ra are talking about She-Ra as someone external.

Considering everything we've seen from the First Ones (other than the sword) has been kinda techy, maybe She-Ra's powers can also be affected by whatever is infecting the robots? It'd give Bow a chance to shine, which seems to be where this episode is going with all the mocking.

Are those ears? An antenna?

For some reason now I'm wondering if we'll ever see Catra's birth family or at least people of her species.

A zombie episode and it's just episode 6!

* facepalm * I just got Entrapta's name.

Yup, zombie episode. Love it.

I regret waiting so long before watching this episode.

She-Ra being kind of a meat-head makes sense but Glimmer? But I guess She-Ra does tend to distract her.

...you can teleport.

I love this episode already, so many good faces.

Welp, that explains her appearance in the OP. * sigh *, all that theorizing to the trash.

I have to agree with Entrapta, I _love_ tiny food. Makes me feel like a giant.

Aw, is Bow going to show them the power of being just a normal dude with arrows?

OH MY GOD

Oh, so it _is_ considered tech.

oh, she _dumb_

and also a lot shorter than I expected

Welp. Is the sword going to turn evil no– oh wait, does this mean that She-Ra is going to turn evil with accompanying dark menacing outfit? If yes please do continue infecting that sword.

Red eyes and what almost looks like a fang! Not exactly an "evil costume" but it'll do.

Unless "weird old first ones technology somehow disables She-Ra" ends up being a recurring plot, this feels kinda important.

Wouldn't this "virus" give The Horde a way to defeat She-Ra or even turn her into a weapon? Imagine infecting She-Ra while she's at Bright Moon, everything that Adora has done to overcome everyone's distrust would vanish.

Aw, self-confidence~

...she really doesn't seem to care at all about other people, just her tech

Maybe it's doing the same thing the temple did when it detected intruders?

I guess this is her "trait," like learned helplessness was Perfuma's and apathy was Mermista's. Both of them overcame their trait a bit in their episodes, is Entrapta going to learn the value of life~?

I can't get used to her being so tiny. Also great line.

Drunk Adora is everything.

That's really sad. Did Entrapta's parents die in the war? That'd be a good explanation for her behavior.

Glimmer is the best friend anyone could have.

"Shiny!"

I do have to admire Entrapta's one track mind.

So many good Glimmer faces, I feel blessed.

Also I can't wait to watch how Entrapta somehow makes something even worse than killer robots with that sparkle of Glimmer's magic.

Is Bow going to save the day?

So much for being a helpless cook that couldn't possibly hurt a robot

Somehow they managed to make Bow look cool. Is there anything this show can't do?

I'm still curious about Bow though, once it seemed to be clear that this episode was going to be at least in part about him, I was hoping it give us at least some backstory or something beyond what we already knew.

And this is how the Bow fan club is born

What _is_ Entrapta magic power anyway? Is it only her hair? That seems limited versus Mermista being both a mermaid _and_ being able to control water, or Perfuma being able to control plants. I guess her being a genius could count but I wouldn't have expected the kitchen staff to go "eh, they are magic, they can handle it" if that was the case.

Also, the kitchen staff doesn't seem to care much for Entrapta, not even one exclamation of worry or anything. That makes her backstory even sadder.

No one has ever said that so happily before.

The gem is protecting itself? Is the "virus" some kind of AI then?

Aw, his faith in them feels refreshing.

Considering She-Ra's sword doesn't seem to need power, I doubt this is going to work. Being "first ones" tech and all that.

There you go

Computers and arson, Entrapta's two passions.

Oh, I thought her drunkenness was just residual damage from having been infected while being She-Ra but she still had it in her.

The fact that the tendrils seem to be receding into the sword instead of vanishing worries me a bit.

Narrator: She feels that way at some point in the next 30 episodes.

Wow, Glimmer really can't get enough of She-Ra.

She really is a comic book villain in the making. Can't wait for this to happen:

Interesting episode and new character! I didn't expect a princess to be so grey, considering everyone else seems to be very aligned to their respective sides. It wouldn't even surprise me if the real reason Entrapta joined the rebellion was to have an excuse to make and test her weapons.

With the hints of a tragic backstory, her isolation from even her staff and her obsession with her machines, Entrapta really seems to be heading the wrong path. But, would she join or help the Horde if it meant getting more answers about the First Ones? I guess it depends if the Horde was responsible for killing her parents.

She-Ra's sword (and She-Ra herself) getting infected was as full of possibilities as Entrapta's future. There's no way it doesn't come up again when it disabled her so badly. Is the Horde going to find out how to activate it? Is She-Ra going to attack her allies if it happens? Lots of fertile ground for interesting drama. The infection could also be related to whatever happened to the First Ones, maybe they caused their own demise by delving too deep into AI?

I'm a bit disappointed by Bow's plot this episode, not because it was bad but because I was expecting more depth. It didn't reveal anything new about his character, it just spelled it out. Maybe that's all Bow is but I hope it isn't. How did he meet Glimmer? Was he always so confident about his abilities vs having magic powers? I want answers!

Until next time!

[blackberrywidow]

Suffocating

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Langauge. Mild violence. 

Prompt: “That took my breath away.” “Good. I aim to suffocate.” 

Summary: Agent James Barnes has dedicated his life to tracking down psychopaths and serial killers and putting them behind bars, but when a possibly psychopathic, definitely beautiful assassin asks for his help, how can he say no?

A/N: This prompt was requested by @blackwidws several months ago (and was based on an actual conversation we had), but I just now managed to finish it. It is also loosely based on Killing Eve, so there’s that. Enjoy!

Bucky had been through… well, several tough situations during his career as CIA agent.

He had been captured by the Russians two years ago—tortured and maimed, ending with the acquisition of a shiny, state of the art prosthetic arm, courtesy of Tony Stark.

Then there was the issue with Zemo’s attack on the CIA itself, which hinged greatly upon his framing of Bucky as the bomber that was targeting CIA operatives and their families.

And of course, there were countless other instances where Steve dragged him into trouble, both during their adolescence, during their time in Afghanistan, and even now, when Steve was in the FBI.

But never before had Bucky felt this monumentally screwed.

He wasn’t letting that show though. For all she could tell, he got kidnapped by beautiful, potentially psychopathic assassins every day.

He was suave, he was cool, he was in control. And he could only hope that it bothered her—how unbothered he was.

Not that he could tell either way. She was just as cold and unaffected as she stared out the windshield, one hand held firmly on the steering wheel, the other pressing a gun into his side.

Bucky decided that just wouldn’t do. So, he did what he does best: annoy.

“Are we there yet?”

And finally, the mask cracked, though the slight twitching of her cheek would have gone unnoticed by anyone who hadn’t spent the last three hours analyzing her face.

“Does it look like we’re there?” she bites out through gritted teeth, eyes never once leaving the road, despite them being the only car around for miles.

Bucky shrugs, noting how the motion did nothing to dislodge the gun she held to him. Her grip was tight, unyielding; he would be more concerned about that if he thought he would have a chance of escaping even if he could get control of the gun. As it was, they were going down the highway at 70 mph, heading in an undisclosed direction for an unknown amount of time.

“I’d have a better idea if you would tell me where exactly it is we’re going, ma’am.”

There, again. A tick in her jaw so minuscule any normal person would miss it. From someone so controlled, he couldn’t help but wonder if she were doing it consciously.

“One, don’t call me that. Two, I’ll explain everything once we get there. Not a moment sooner.” She spoke clearly, evenly, her Russian accent only serving to make the words seem more authoritative.

If he didn’t have a dominance kink before, he definitely did now.

Which was really inconvenient, considering all of the afore mentioned issues.

“Okay,” Bucky sighs, resting his head back against the headrest in a practiced sign of disinterest. “Fine. I’ll play your game since, clearly, I have no choice. But what am I supposed to call you, considering I don’t even know your name? Or should I just call you The Widow?”

“Don’t call me anything,” she answers easily. “In fact, don’t feel that you have to speak at all.”

Bucky’s lip twitches at that, and he decides that maybe it would be best to heed her warning. He was already fairly fucked as it is. The only thing to do now is play it out and wait for his opening.

.

…

.

It had been a long day, to say the least.

The CIA had been working in tandem with the FBI, which was always a nightmare, even if it did mean he got to work with Steve. But it meant something was wrong, that they were chasing something dangerous.

That something was called The Widow, or at least that’s what the reports said.

A cold-blooded assassin intent on taking out key political figures in a bid to destabilize. To create chaos.

It was unclear who exactly she was working for, though some signs were pointing to Russian intelligence.

Bucky knew it didn’t really matter though; they were all the same in the end. Just another psychopath wreaking havoc on the world.

What he did know was that it was his job to stop her.

It was always his job, tracking down the serial killers and assassins that threatened the country. They all posed their own challenges, but this one involved more late nights and stressful meetings with assholes who didn’t have the slightest clue what they were talking about.

So, as previously mentioned, it had been a long day, and Bucky was ready to go home and sleep for a record-setting 4 hours before dragging his ass back here tomorrow.

At least, that wasthe plan, until he reached his car, only to find a woman with beautiful red hair and sharp green eyes waiting for him.

Bucky’s first thought was, woah, both because he was exhausted, and she really was incredibly attractive. But his second thought was a much more rational, what the fuck does this woman want from me?

His pace slowed, though he didn’t let any other outward signs of caution show. They were in the parking garage of one of the most secure facilities in the world, after all. Though a stranger waiting by his car certainly warranted some hesitation, it was nothing to worry about.

He was, as it would turn out, mistaken.

“Something I can help you with, ma’am?” he asked, taking a page out of Steve’s book and shooting for polite interest.

Her mouth curved up at the corner, forming what Bucky would consider a smile on others, but seemed too… menacing to be called that on her. Her voice was a soft rasp, the accent and grate of it catching him so off guard he almost missed her words.

“No, but there is something I can help you with, James Barnes.”

And maybe it was because there was a spike of adrenaline as he finally realized how monumentally badthis was, or maybe the universe just had an exceptional sense of timing, but that was when he felt it.

He stumbled, catching himself on the trunk of his car, wide eyes staring accusingly up at the woman who had yet to move from the passenger door. “You—did you drug me? When?”

She shrugged, looking wholly unconcerned by the whole thing. “Just a minor sedative slipped into your coffee. It seemed like the safest option. For both of us. Now, I suggest you relax, Agent Barnes. You’ll be more comfortable if you don’t fight it.”

“Oh fuck you,” Bucky managed to growl out before the pavement rushed up to meet him.

.

…

.

“We’re here,” is the only things she says to him before she opens the door, removing the weapon from his side and stepping out of the vehicle.

Bucky blinks once, watches her stride up to a cabin that looks mostly-intact and enter it without looking back, and he blinks again.

It seems like maybe this is some sort of test, or a trap. To leave him unguarded out here, just expecting that he would follow her in.

His options are admittedly limited. He can only guess at their general location based on the signs they passed on the highway, but they had been traveling on back roads for some time now. This cabin is the only notable thing that they had passed in what felt like hours. He could tryto hotwire the car—his own fucking car—but… well, if there was one thing Bucky was good at, it was making terrible decisions.

He follows her in.

He enters cautiously, taking in the rustic wood paneling and the single couch and table that served as furniture for the entire one-room cabin. There are no pictures on the wall, no TV, no phone, nothing but The Widow, sitting silently at the table as she waits for him.

Bucky whistles lowly, and because he’s an idiot, he opens his mouth. “I thought a high-profile assassin such as yourself would be able to afford a nicer place. Maybe even one with a window, or a one of those vacuums that follows you around. This place really looks like it could use a good cleaning,” he noted, only half-joking as he surveyed the dust covered floor and moth-eaten couch.

Her expression doesn’t change. “I don’t live here.”

He waits for her to elaborate, but after another thirty seconds pass by in complete silence, he clears his throat. “Well then, Miss Widow, why are we here?”

She narrows her eyes but doesn’t bother correcting him again. Instead, she reaches into the pocket of her coat—cream-colored, long, elegant, and likely worth more than his car—and pulls out a flash drive, smacking it down on the table and sliding it forward, not once breaking eye contact.

He hesitates only a moment before striding to the table and taking the seat in front of the flash drive. It seems that he made the right choice, because as soon as he picks up the device to examine it, she finally speaks.

“You’ve been looking into an assassin, one that’s been targeting politicians and world leaders across the globe.”

She’s still watching him, and it’s unsettling, but he ignores it and takes the opportunity to watch herthis time. Her face is smooth, expressionless in a way that is clearly practiced. She speaks about the assassin in a way that leads him to believe he was wrong in his assumption that it was her, but… there’s a familiarity there. A connection that goes beyond this flash drive that he holds in his hand. And her eyes, green and hard as stone as they may be, tell him he’s right.

“So you’re not her?” Bucky clarifies, because it really is the most pressing question at the moment. If he’s sitting in a cabin in the woods with the assassin he’s been chasing, it would be nice to know. “You’re not The Widow?”

She hesitates, and her teeth graze her lip, as though she were about to bite it before she caught herself. Not that he was looking at her lips, of course. “I was, once,” she says reluctantly, almost wistfully. “But not anymore. Never again.”

There’s steel in her voice now, and Bucky is having a hard time processing what all of this means, but if he were hard pressed, he’d say he believes her.

“Okay, so I’m gonna need you to tell me where I fit into all of this?” he said, all pretenses of nonchalance dropped as he waved the flash drive at her. “If you’re not the assassin—but used to be one—why am I here? What are you giving me?”

“Everything you want,” the woman says, still betraying nothing. “Information on the organization she works for. Information on her. Enough to bring them all down.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, because he’s been a soldier and he’s been a spy and he knows when something is too good to be true. And he knows when he’s being used. “All of that, huh? And I’m just supposed to trust you?”

“Of course you don’t have to trust me,” she shoots back, exasperation creeping into her tone for the first time. “All you have to do is look at the files, and—”

“With what computer?” Bucky cuts her off, looking around with wide eyes, taking in the complete lack of any sort of technology. “And why me? I know you want me to think this is just some gift that’s been dropped in my lap, but I know better than accept it without question. So tell me, sweetheart, why the whole show? Why drag me all the way out here just to give me a flash drive containing information on people you used to work for? ”

Her eyes narrow and her nostrils flare and it’s the largest reaction he’s managed to get out of her, and it doesn’t surprise him at all that it’s anger he’s inspired in her. “Do not call me that,” she seethed, venom lacing her tone in a way that made it clear he had struck a nerve.

Bucky would have felt bad, were it not for the previously stated factors.

So he scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh yeah, be angry about that. It’s not as though you’ve been kind enough to give me your name, even a fake one. Though that seems par for the course, as you haven’t given me any information.”

The apparently-former assassin seemed to be considering that, a glint of something like admiration sparking in her eyes before she nodded, resolute. “You may call me Natasha.”

The name sounded false on her lips, but he didn’t question it, knowing he had larger concerns. “Natasha it is then. Mind telling me the whole story then, as you’ve dragged me all the way out here and we seem to be lacking in any other entertainment?”

And he couldn’t be sure if it were a trick of the light or if it was genuine, but he could have sworn the corner of her mouth twitched up into the semblance of a smile.

But then she started talking, and neither of them felt like smiling any more.

.

…

.

Bucky learned a lot in the following three hours, enough that he felt like he had to reevaluate everything he thought he knew before he had met Natasha.

She had been taken from her family when she was young, sold off to some Russian intelligence organization called The Red Room. It was an experimental endeavor at first—take 28 young girls and train them to be killers. Simple, and apparently very easy if you got to them young enough. If you were cruel enough, manipulative enough.

But perhaps not perfect, because here was Natasha, telling him everything in a bid to ruin their plans.

“We were bought and traded, once we were old enough,” she was explaining, all cool detachment once again. Describing traumatizing events as though they had happened to someone else. “Kill a mob boss who took more than his fair share here. A politician who asked a few too many questions there. But then a different organization, one I’m sure your familiar with, got involved. And things changed.”

“Hydra,” Bucky says, mind flashing back to a winter spent in Russia not that long ago, one that ended with him losing an arm.

She nods, lips thinning almost imperceptibly, and he can tell she’s making a point not to look at the shining metal of his left arm. He doesn’t comment on it, and she continues. “Yes. They wanted to think bigger. They wanted to create chaos where there was peace, completely destabilize countries where there wasn’t. And they had a plan to do it: a list of fifty people that would completely change the world, so long as they were killed in the right way, at the right time.”

“And The Widow, she’s the one they have carrying this mission out?”

“It’s not just one girl,” Natasha corrects, still watching him carefully for a reaction. “We were all called that—it’s the name of the operation that called for our capture. ‘The Black Widow Program.’ This—this murder spree is just the culmination of their life’s work.”

“So why leave?” Bucky asked, leaning forward with narrowed eyes, suddenly too curious to resist any longer. “Why now? Why turn your back on them and sell them out after all this time? We’ve been chasing these women for almost a year now, thinking it was just one assassin, and now you waltz in, kidnap me, and tell me we’ve got it all wrong? I’m gonna need some sort of reasoning before I believe you.”

He tried to sound apologetic—as apologetic as one can sound after having been abducted and forced to hold conversation with woman who grew up murderingpeople anyway—but she didn’t seem to buy it. She did, however, nod in acceptance.

“Alright Agent Barnes, fine. Here’s the truth: I chose to come forward now because I have officially exhausted all my other options. As soon as I realized what they were doing—how far they were taking this—I knew that I couldn’t be a part of the end of the world. So I waited, and I bid my time, until finally I was able to make it out. And you were there.”

As surprising as everything Natasha had said in the past hour was, this was the only sentence that elicited a visible reaction from him.

His head snapped as if struck without his permission, and he blinked at her several times before he managed to ask, “Me? Where?”

This time he knew she was smiling, though there was no kindness in the gesture, when she said, “It was D.C. You were following a lead on the investigation and were looking into Senator Cortez as a potential target. You were right, of course, and you managed to mess it up just enough to give me my opening.”

Bucky was quiet as he tried to recall every detail about the week he had spent in D.C., from the meetings with the Senator to the extra security he ordered. And finally, after he thought about the staff he interviewed, he remembered her.

“You were blonde then.”

The smile was wider this time and gave Bucky the impression of a wolf looking at its dinner. “You do remember.”

“He died a week later,” Bucky responds, thinly vailed accusation in his voice.

She had the decency to look contrite, but he knew it was only for his benefit. “It wasn’t me. I left that night—my handlers were panicking, trying to find a new way to circumvent your new security protocols. I was supposed to be seducing you.” She says it with such casualness that Bucky just knows she’s toying with him.

“Wasn’t interested?” he asks dryly, wondering if it would have worked if she had. He remembered her for a reason, after all, and it wasn’t the carefully meek American accent she had used then or her tentative answers to his questions. It was her eyes, intelligent and watchful in a way that gave him pause, and a beauty that made everything else around her seem even more dull than usual.

She smirks then, and he knows she had guessed his train of thought. She is at least kind enough not to comment on it.

“I saw the opportunity for what it was: my out. I followed you to your room, just as I was asked, but instead of knocking on your door and fucking you for answers, I cut back to the staff entrance in the basement and made my way out with everyone else who was leaving for the night. No one suspected anything since I was already on the list of staff members investigated, and my handlers thought I was handlingyou. By the time they realized I had escaped, it was too late.”

“But not too late to kill Senator Cortez?”

Her face hardens, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say she looked genuinely guilty. “I thought that I could get back there, have some sort of plan in time to stop them from killing him, or anyone else for that matter. I didn’t expect to be replaced so quickly.”

“Bitter?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask, picking up on the sour note in her voice.

She doesn’t respond with words, only narrows her eyes at him in a way that makes him regret having asked. “I’ve spent the last six months trying to gain enough intelligence to turn over to your government, so that it can be your problem now. So that I can live my life the way I want, without The Red Room or Hydra following me wherever I go, looking to collect on their investment. I want out,” she says decisively, and he can’t help but believe her. “I just need you to help me end this so that I can be free of them.”

Bucky nods, thinking on her reasoning and actually finding that it makes sense, at least from her perspective. But he still had one more question. “So, is that why you chose me to be your messenger? Because you knew my name from the investigation?”

Natasha tilts her head from side to side, looking contemplative. “I suppose that was one reason. But I looked into you after that, found out your own history with Hydra, and assumed you were my best bet.” Bucky raised a brow in question. “Best bet for what?”

“To help me,” she says, clearly hating that she has to say it out loud. “I brought you here because it’s a safe place that neither your bosses nor mine can find us. Because I want to give you this information, and I want to walk out of here of my own free will. And I can’t do that if you take me in.” She leans then, her keen eyes catching him off guard as they practically beg for him to understand. “If I give myself up to your government, even if it is to bring Hydra down, I’ll never have that freedom. You understand that, don’t you?”

Bucky understands a lot of things. He knows what it’s like to be tortured and abused by Hydra. Knows what it is like to have control and free will stripped from you. He had experienced it for nearly five months—he couldn’t imagine enduring it for decades.

He nods. “Alright then. I believe that’s all I need then, Miss Natasha.”

Her smile when she stands is the first genuine one she’s worn in a very long time.

.

…

.

Because they have just the one car—his car—they agree to drive back to the nearest city together. From there, Natasha will board a bus to a destination unknown to him, and Bucky will head back home to give the information to his boss, effectively single-handedly ending this war before it even begins.

At least that was the plan, but then there’s a blockade in the middle of the highway, still miles away from civilization, from any backup that he could call, and the plan is forced to change.

Bucky, behind the wheel this time, slows, thinking over his options as they approach the three armored cars and small army of men that block his path.

Natasha, who is used to thinking on her feet, does not entertain any thoughts of stopping as she stretches her foot over the center console and slams it down onto Bucky’s, pressing the gas pedal down as far as she can.

And Bucky isn’t sure who’s more surprised, him or the Hydra agents he’s suddenly plowing into, but he doesn’t have time to really consider it before his car crashes into two of the SUVs and his face hits the air bag.

After he’s able to gain his bearings enough to move and confirm that he’s alive and mostly unharmed, he sees that Natasha is already out of the car and that there are shots being fired all around him.

He curses, fumbling for his seatbelt and reaching for his gun. He takes cover as soon as he gets his door open, and he raises his gun, ready to start returning fire when suddenly it stops entirely.

He chances a look, ready to duck back down once they start firing again, only to see thirteen bodies lying scattered on the group, and Natasha squaring off against the last man standing. He was large-built, though not quite as bulky as Steve. He was grinning as he advanced upon her slowly, a knife with a blade the size of Bucky’s forearm held threateningly, and though the words were too quiet for him to hear, he was clearly taunting her.

Bucky raises his weapon, ready and willing to contribute even though Natasha had managed to take care of most of it within three minutes, but that turned out to be unnecessary as well.

Natasha flashes a smile that is all teeth and threat before taking a running leap, neatly vaulting over the slash of her target’s knife, and landing on his shoulders. He only has a second to look stunned before she gives a sudden twist of her thighs and snaps his neck with a sharp crack that Bucky can hear from ten feet away.

The man lands in a heap on the ground, but Natasha rolls gracefully off of him before rising to her feet once again. As she takes in the carnage—a car on fire to his left, his car with its crushed front right next to him, a scattering of bodies in various position, all of them dead—he can only watch her with wide, awe-struck eyes.

When she turned her striking green eyes back on him, looking him over for any injury, he can only think of one thing to say.

“That took my breath away.”

“Good. I aim to suffocate.” Her tone was dry, but her lips curved up into an amused smile before she jerked her chin in the direction of the only car that had survived the attack. “Come on, Agent Barnes. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us if I’m going to take you all the way back to New York.”

“Bucky,” he corrects as she climbs up into the driver’s seat and he takes the passenger without protest. She clearly had a better handle on this than him anyhow.

Her eyes flash to him for only a second as she pulls away from the scene, and he can’t help but be happy that he finally managed to tell her something about himself that she didn’t already know.

She, of course, is not one to be outdone. “My real name is Natalia.”

“Well Natalia,” Bucky says, rolling her name across his tongue like it’s something to be savored, not spoken, “let’s get this thing to my boss so you can finally get a taste of that freedom you want.”

When she smiles at him this time, it actually reaches her eyes.

.

…

.

Natasha surprises him when she does exactly what she said she would and takes him all the way to his office in New York.

He supposes it shouldn’t though: if there’s one thing he’s learned about Natasha—Natalia—it is that she has her own sort of code that she follows. And apparently it includes being honest with him.

The moment she pulls the stolen car into the same parking spot she had abducted him from not even 24 hours ago, she disappears without a word.

Bucky rolls with it, of course, because though she has been an assassin and a killer, she deserves the chance to be better. She had never been given a choice before, and he’d make sure she wasn’t robbed of one now.

So he takes the flash drive with the information into his boss with an abridged version of the events that led to its procurement, and hopes to be allowed to head home for a solid 8 hours of sleep before sitting through the debriefing.

His request is denied, which doesn’t come as a surprise, and he sits through another four hours of mindlessly repetitive questions and answers. They ask him to go over every detail, from his capture to the mess he left on some highway in New Jersey, and he recites the details again and again. They ask for information on Natalia, and he refuses every time.

He’s detached, just going through the motions of this bureaucratic shitshow while the CIA sort through the treasure trove of information that Natalia handed them. Steve notices, catching his eye and giving him a look that’s meant to be reassuring, and he’s not the only one.

Bucky’s boss finally sends him home with an exasperated sigh and an order to report in at 0600 tomorrow, and Bucky barely catches himself before sighing in relief.

It’s short lived.

Steve catches him in the hallway, concern clear in his eyes, and Bucky loves him like a brother, but he just wants to go homegoddammit. Seemingly sensing his irritation, Steve holds up a hand in surrender. “I won’t hold you up, God knows you could use a full night’s rest right about now. But I do just have one question.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, exhausted but willing to play along for his best friend’s sake. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“Why are you protecting her?”

Bucky blinks in surprise, both at the simplicity of the question and his inability to verbalize his answer.

Because she didn’t deserve this. Because she was a weapon in the hands of murderers, but the courts will never see it that way. Because she deserves a chance to be free and learn what it’s like to make decisions yourself. Because the thought of her behind bars for the rest of her life makes me sick.

So he doesn’t answer, and Steve doesn’t appear to expect him to as he steps to the side and allows Bucky to pass him on his way to the garage.

.

…

.

For the third time in a row, Bucky’s attempt to find a moment of peace to just fucking sleep is thwarted. But the moment his eyes lock on the beautiful red head sitting on his couch, looking as though she belonged there, he knew he wasn’t going to complain.

“Nat,” Bucky blurts out, dropping his keys onto his side table in surprise. “I—What are you doing here?”

Her lips twitch up into a smile, and she doesn’t chastise him for the nickname, only waves a hand in greeting. “Bucky.  I’m waiting for you, of course. What else would I be doing?”

“Oh I don’t know.” Bucky rolls his eyes and leans against his wall, still just watching her watch him. “I thought you’d be half-way to Mexico by now.”

Natalia wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Mexico is a bit too sunny for my taste. I was thinking we should head north, maybe hit Canada and figure out where we go from there.”

It took him an embarrassingly long time to process what she was saying. “We?”

“Well, yes,” she says, looking unsure for the first time since he had met her, and the sight made his heart jump. “I thought—well, I thought maybe you’d like to find out what freedom tastes like too.”

And the second the words left her lips, he knew he did. Because she understood him better than anyone after just a handful of hours spent together. She knew what it was like to feel like you were suffocating under the thumb of another, and she knew what it was like to break free of its hold.

She saw something of her past and her struggles in him, and he finally realized what it was that he saw when he looked into her eyes: his future.

When he takes too long to respond, she shrugs and says, “Besides, I might get bored if you weren’t around to annoy the shit out of me.”

He scoffs, but thinks, I’ll follow you anywhere, and he knows it’s true.

What he says is, “We’ll have to steal a new car.”

Bu she just smiles, all teeth and wicked intent, and he knows she understands anyway.

[minnochu]

Lustrous (pt.8)

Hybrid!Kook x Reader AU

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Pt 17 | Pt 18 | Pt 19

(A/N): Tbh I was gonna wait till later today to post this but fuck it I’ma feed y’all. Sorry for any misspellings or errors I might have missed when I quickly proofread this.

Soooo I finally finished this part after much dryness and finally a spark of idea lmao. Also I know I posted a quick psa, but in case you didn’t read it, I didn’t reply to the asks about tagging for this fic so I could keep track of them (Except two ‘cause your users wouldn’t show up when I tried tagging lol). But thank you for the support! 

.

Yahiko’s disapproval of Jungkook being around you is super effective in getting him to avoid and ignore you more than he already had before your attack. You can’t understand why she’d believe that just because his eyes labeled him as a murderer he couldn’t have any good inside him. For gods sakes the guy has saved you countless of times when he could’ve just let you die and get eaten. Much less he could have murdered you at your weakest when the wendigos targeted you.

That night, you share one last look between you and the wolf boy before Seokjin gives you a comforting hug and Yoongi briefly pats your head awkwardly. The boys leave and you spare Yahiko barely a glance, not when she just forbid you from someone you considered a really good friend other than Hyejin.

As you both grow distant, the more often you get the dreams. They shouldn’t even be classified as dreams. They were nightmares. They were so vivid and almost as if you were there but no one was aware of it. These dreams were way too nostalgic to be ignored, and they pit a feeling of danger within your stomach. It was all too tangible, they always ended with you shooting up in bed sweating and in tears. Why did you feel so sad?

“That wretch, a menace that child is. It seems she is reaching her peaking age, we have to dispose of her as soon as possible.”

All the dreams always took place in that place. Like your first dream, it was a dark building with many rooms, all dreary and emitting some kind of miasma even you can sense within your dream state.

“You can’t! You promised to leave her alone once the vampire erased her memories!”

Your heart hurt. It squeezed and yet you didn’t have the answer as to why it did such a thing.

“Minerva, the vampire has been exterminated, we can’t risk her uprising and being a danger to us all.”

Minerva was a distinct woman within your dreams. From the first time you’d seen her trying to persuade the others to spare her child, to now, she was always very noticeable. This time, she appeared older and weary as she pleaded with the others.

“The fact that you’re defending that defect brings great shame to the Blackwell coven, what would Colhen say of this trouble you’ve already caused him and Sister Eris?”

Sister Eris. Colhen. After multiple dreams you connected the dots between each dream to figure out that “Sister Eris” is the leader of some sort. Colhen was the husband of Eris and Minerva was supposedly a lover of his — you had one particular dream of his affair with her before growing distant and disapproving of her after the birth of the “mutant” they constantly referred the child as.

You weren’t sure what they were or why you were having dreams about them, but it always creeped you out. It felt way too real and vivid to be something your brain just created out of the blue.

Coven they said. Witches? Why were you dreaming about witches?

“Would you not feel any sense of guilt or despair for your child to be the target of execution for being different?” Minerva cried, her (e/c) irises blazing with both sadness and ferocity, “It could’ve been any of yours!” She was on her knees at this point, forlorn and ready to give up as her sisters glared down at her pitifully.

“Minerva! Enough of this nonsense!”

The image of the weeping woman dissolved and in place was the same person but she faced directly towards you. Your body visibly shivered in your slumber at the chilling recognition, feeling as though her presence was there in your very room. The trails of dried up tears stained her cheeks as her eyes looked directly at you. It made you heart twist sadly despite the anxiety that gripped your throat at her recognition of your presence within the dream.

“My child,” she began in a quivering voice as she looks around fervently but only appears to be alone in a dimly lit room with you. What was she afraid of? Who is she looking out for?

“Please be strong, they’ll be coming for you very quickly,” her voice hushes as she bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut in fear. There’s a faint reverberation of feet clamping on wood, causing her body to tense. “You must be strong and remember everything!” She whispers quickly now and moves to grab the only source of light in the room, an oil lamp, “I never meant to abandon you, I don’t expect you to forgive me but you were never a mistake! Stay close with the wolves. Just know that mother loves you so much!”

“Don’t let them get to you.”

Footsteps grow louder and a door opens, light penetrating the dark as she casts you one last fleeting glance as she whispers incantations you can’t decipher. Her hand swipes to the left across from you and her image dissolves just as you witness her body being impaled by an unknown object as it’s too fuzzy to decipher the remnants of the image.

You wake with a jolt, chest heaving as you look around the small attic you call your room. Empty. And yet you can’t help wondering why it felt like Minerva was in here with you. Was she talking to you? Were you in her child’s body while she was talking to them? The more you thought about it, the more confused you became.

Stay close to the wolves. Jungkook comes to mind immediately but why? She wasn’t talking directly to you right?

“(Y/n)! Are you alright?” Yahiko enters from the hatch that leads to down to the house, “I felt a burst of aura from up here, did someone come here? Was it that wolf?”

The words enter one ear and go out the other as you think more deeply about Minerva’s words that seemed aimed at you.

“Yahiko…” you start, gaining her attention as she takes a seat at your bedside and takes your hands in hers, “What is the Blackwell Coven?”

She blinks, but you catch a hint of recognition in her eyes.

“They’re a well-known family of witches and warlocks that perform the dark arts, very strong, and very notorious for sacrifice and knowledge of dark and murderous powers,” she starts out with a sigh, “They live quite a ways from Seoul, no less from here as they opposed harmonizing the mortals and the supernatural.”

“Why might you be asking this now-?”

Her question is cut short as the doorbell from downstairs alert the both of you of a visitor. You both glance at each other. It had to be three in the morning, who would be here? The trek down to the first floor is tense as you both open the door to find a package lying on the doorstep. “Did you order something?” Yahiko asks as she glances around.

As she does so you inspect the package suspiciously. Why do you get such a bad feeling from it? Why did it emit a revolting sensation that tells you to be cautious of it?

“They’ll be coming for you.”

You suck in a breath as you notice the package depressing into itself. “Yahiko, the package.”

Yahiko whips around and is quick to thrust a hand towards you. Your body is forced back into the house as her eyes appear golden with the silhouette of ears and a tail glowing at their respective spots. Foxfire ignite from her palms as they appear one by one around the package, a net of runes surround it just in time to catch the black thorns that grow abruptly from the now torn package. The runes pull and tighten over the force and speed of the spikes but do well to keep them at bay. You notice the dark miasma rolling off the surface of the thorns like waves. It makes you shiver as Yahiko works to purify and diminish them.

“This has to be them…” You choke out as the remains of the thorns dissolve and Yahiko releases the barrier and her transformation. All that’s left is the tattered up box. You crouch down and pick up the cardboard but sigh when it's obviously been singed by the foxfire.

“They’re coming for me, Yahiko,” You start shakily, glancing up at the confused elder with glossy eyes shimmering with fear, “I’ve been having recurring dreams about them. The Blackwell Coven. My most recent dream, a woman spoke to me - like actually me - and said they’ll be coming for me..”

“It’s a warning,” The woman deduces with a frown, realizing what you were referring to, “They must have found your location, it’s not safe here.”

“The wolves, she told me to stay close to the wolves,” You blurt out, hoping she set her dislike for Jungkook aside for your safety.

“Are you trying to tell me to leave you at the hands of that killer, (Y/n)?” She leered, brows scrunching at the idea, “I know it’s unsafe for you to stay here now, but I can’t allow you--”

“Would you rather I die, because it sure sounded like they were coming to execute me!” You retort back as you stalk back up to your room until Yahiko catches up.

She sneers at your anger, standing behind you with her arms crossed, “Stupid girl, you don’t think I didn’t know that? I knew this whole time you couldn’t have been just a normal mortal girl. I didn’t give you that stone for no reason my child.”

You turn at this, attention piqued at the mention of the mysterious amulet she gifted you the first day of school. Her expression softens as she takes you within her arms in a brief hug.

“The Blackwells have just confirmed my suspicions about you,” she surrendered with an endearing smile, “You’re very special (Y/n).”

She lifted one finger to press to the amber jewel within your amulet, “Minerva had personally sent this to me as soon as you settled into my attic.” At once, her finger resonates with a soft fiery glow that slowly absorbs into the amulet. “The Blackwells despise siphoners. They call them mistakes and a shame to the family. You’re a siphoner my dear, but far from a wretched mutant.”

She pulls her finger away and the amulet is still glowing. You touch the jewel cautiously and gasp audibly at the power resonating from within it.

Minerva, you recall her mentioning. That woman must have actually been speaking to you. The realization makes your heart squeeze in sadness, shock, and even betrayal. She’d referred to you as her child and she as mother. The terms finally connecting as you stare at the jewel in amazement.

Minerva was your mother.

“A siphoner stone,” she answers your look, “Simply put, a siphoner must find other sources of magic to cast spells and such as they are not innately born with their own. That’s really all I know... That warlock might be able to tell you more, and help you learn to protect yourself… and as much as I hate to say it, hide yourself within those wolves. But please be wary of the blue eyed one.”

And that’s how you find yourself now calling Jimin as you and Yahiko walk to their cabin. She suggested asking Hyejin out of doubt for your safety staying with a tainted beta, but you knew that they would definitely find you there and you didn’t want to put your friend in that kind of danger. Staying in a cabin with vampires, werewolves, and a warlock was your safest bet to mask yourself.

“Welcome back (Y/n)!”

The brunette welcomes you with a bone crushing hug as soon as the front door is swung open, to which Yahiko’s eyes flare orange with a loud clearing of her throat. The wolf simmered and let you go while scratching his neck nervously.

“You stay safe (Y/n) and drop by as much as you can!” Yahiko says as she hands Jimin your luggage and offers a goodbye hug to you. You’re pretty sure if you didn’t she’d show up at the pack’s cabin within seconds.

“Please keep her safe, and no hands,” she shoots the wolf a sharp look, causing the boy to smile nervously.

“Right, she’ll be safe with us,” he ensures cheerily as Yahiko takes her reluctant leave.

“Yikes, I can’t believe you got attacked this early in the morning,” he sighs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to give you a comforting side hug, “It’s good your safe now, the brat has been pacing around all night worried about you.”

“Jungkook?” You asked confused as he turned on the lights to the living room, “He knew I was in danger?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t he? After all he’s-”

Jimin felt the hair on his neck stand tall as shivers ran up his back. Turning his head slowly, he coughed awkwardly when he spots Jungkook glaring daggers at him from the hallway, his eyes glowering a dangerous marine. Irked and slightly nervous as the younger cracks a knuckle, he laughs dryly.

“Jungkook!”

He flinches, not expecting you to acknowledge him, biting his bottom lip when he feels his inner wolf jump excitedly at the mention of his name. Moving to retreat back into his room when Seokjin presses a firm palm to his shoulder and pushes the youth into the living room.

“(Y/n)!” The warlock grins, passing by Jungkook to hug you. His smile remains solid even as the wolf glares at the back of his head heatedly. “I heard from Jimin what happened,” he said, voice slightly lower from before as his eyes gave off a more sharper appeal than their usually softer brown. You’re taken by surprise and he notices this, eyes softening as he beckons you further into the room, “You must be shaken up and overwhelmed, we’re all just glad you and Yahiko are safe.”

He offers you a seat on the couch as he hurries Jimin to prepare chamomile tea.

“How are you feeling?” Seokjin asks tentatively, silently urging Jungkook to take a seat but he stubbornly remains glued to the spot far away leaning against the wall. “The dark arts are truly a force to be reckoned with after all…”

“Did you guys know I was a siphoner?” You ask hesitantly, fingering your amulet as you say so, “Why does that have to do with me being targeted by some sicko witch group?”

Seokjin sighs, pursing his lips as he figures out where to start, knowing you’d want as much answers he could provide about who you were.

“Mm… where to start…” He hums, “Yes and… no. We figured you were human at first, there was no indication or spiritual power coming from you that told us otherwise. However, that day you ingested muting herbs and nearly absorbed most of mine and Kook’s energy when you came to were very strong indications that you couldn’t just be a normal girl.

“I’m sure your caretaker explained the gist of what you are… a siphoner. And Blackwells absolutely despise any connections to what they deemed a burden or a mistake. Mutant witches that didn’t have their own natural power was deemed a mistake that had to be eradicated.

“You’re no mistake (Y/n), don’t get me wrong, you are and can be so much more powerful than others let on, despite being only mortal. I presume that the fact that you’re still alive and that vampire is dead, they feel pressured and endangered.”

Pausing, he gauges your blank expression and chuckles, “Was that too much information for you? I know you only just found out today.”

Shaking your head, you manage a slight smile, “It’s nothing I guess… all I can do is take it in you know…”

“You’re a strong one (Y/n),” He smiles, placing a hand on your shoulder, “If you need anything just ask!”

“Just one… my mother, Minerva, a member of the Blackwell family gifted me this stone. Please teach me how to use it.”

Tags: @twilight-loveer @reinyrei @mistytail @mygukandonlyficrecs @xanny91 @unpocodesoledadywisky @xxqueenwxtchxx @lildemonangele @zamirayinyue13 @lana12361 

(ok oof I’m shook cuz the last two I was having trouble tagging and the results weren’t dropping down so I’m just gonna have to answers y’alls asks to let you know that your handles aren’t showing up when I try tagging.

Also if you want to be included for updates~ reply to this post or shoot me a dm or whatever ~)

[bwprowl]

Everything is proceeding as he has foreseen and it feels so good! My absolute favorite Star Wars character, Sheev ‘Emperor’ Palpatine continues to make waves in that universe, even getting ready for one more villainous encore in that last movie at the end of this year. Seemingly in celebration, Hasbro’s put out this special-edition Black Series figure of the bad grandpa packaged with his most loyal servant: His chair! It truly is the complete Palpy package, letting you display him seated in all his evil glory and imagine Ian McDiarmid skittering his feet around just out of sight to swivel around.

The figure itself is just general Black Series quality. The nature of Sheev’s design means that they had to go with a lot of soft goods on this one to make sure it looked right while still maintaining full posability. But just being black robes means they look pretty good without falling into some of the pratfalls that type of clothing stumbles into sometimes. The hood sits particularly well, and you can even adjust it pretty decently depending on how mysterious and menacing you want his overshadowed visage to look. The sleeves are a bit iffier, they don’t seem as baggy as they should and can stick up stiffly if you’re trying for more dynamic arm-poses than simply seated, but they aren’t too distracting. The base layer of plastic body also has some molded clothing bits, notably his robe-belt-tie thing that can stick out more stiffly than I’d like, but the trade-off to that means it’s ‘shaped’ right at all times. You ever tried to re-tie a soft-goods piece like that if it comes undone? You’re never getting to look totally correct again.

Palpatine’s general looks are complimented by his accessories and option parts, which oddly blend together a bit. He’s got three separate heads that run the expression gamut from angery to neutral to that ‘Good. Gooooooood.’ Smile; That last one is objectively the best choice, obvs. He’s also got his can so he can shake it at those darn kids to get off his darn space-lawn, and both his default hands have slots that can hold it. But oddly, those are the only ‘normal’ hands he’s got, and they only swap out for the included ‘lighting’ hands that act like permanently affixed effects parts. Don’t get me wrong, they look great and everyone loves a little Sheev Force Lightning, but maybe I’ve been spoiled by lines like SHF in that him ‘only’ coming with two sets of hands seemed a bit shortchanged to me.

But those little accessories aren’t even why you’re here, it’s all about that chair, baby! It’s a full-size piece that they really didn’t skimp any details on. The cushion bits are even actually a little cushy to the touch! It’s got its little panels and sci-fi bits tacked on and painted up properly, and Papa Palpatine slots in and sits in it quite sturdily. The silver around the border up top does seem a smidge sloppy on some of the lines, but overall it’s an outstanding effort that really sells this thing as a ‘complete’ figure of the premiere sci-fi bad guy. He just makes for a killer display piece like this, and the abundance of soft goods, the excellent paint work on the hands and head and his facial expressions, all bordered by that beware-the-flare scare-chair just makes him the total package. It’s definitive, and after a period where I nearly forgot I ordered this guy I’m all too happy to have him in-hand now.

I’ve also been all too happy to see you guys tonight! Enjoy the rest of your evening, and be sure to have fun!

[azuresquirrel]

Alright folks, here is my post of liveblog-y thoughts as I watch these new episodes of Steven Universe that are released and yet also not released at the same time (let me have this one more time: CN IS TERRIBLE). So this entire post under the cut is going to be SPOILER CENTRAL, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Yes, this will be me watching every episode as I do not want to spam people’s dashes with posts of Schrodinger’s Episodes.

I can’t believe there are six goddamn episodes put on an “app” to watch on your GODDAMN PHONE instead of 1. Aired or 2. On a streaming/ondemand service. Fuck it, one more time, I HATE CARTOON NETWORK.

Okay, finally let’s get into it.

“Dewey Wins”

Well we seem to be immediately dealing with the aftermath of the Trial/Homeworld/LARS IS A PINK ZOMBIE adventures. In which everyone looks rightfully concerned except for Steven himself who is talking like is was just another fun adventure. THIS BOY IS REPRESSED AF, SOMEONE GET HIM A THERAPIST. (I mean if he’s going to be therapist to every person in Beach City that means that PROFESSIONALLY he also should have a therapist, IT’S JUST COMMON PRACTICE).

CONNIE ADDRESSING THE EMOTIONAL FALLOUT OF THIS???? THANK YOU.

“We’re safe! Everything’s fine!” YEAH THIS IS OFFICIALLY THE MOST CONCERNED FOR STEVEN THAT I HAVE EVER BEEN. THERAPIST. NOW.

SEE, EVEN LION JUDGES YOUR LIFE CHOICES, STEVEN.

I don’t know where the rest of this episode is going, but Steven cheerfully and INSISTENTLY claiming that “it had to be done” (i.e. giving himself up to Homeworld) … it’s coming across as very Rose Quartz. AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY. Thinking that somehow just because they made the “tough choices” that means that it only affects them and not EVERYONE ELSE.

OH NO SADIE. (I mean I do believe that Lars being off on Pink Zombie Space Adventures is ultimately A GOOD THING for both Lars and Sadie but in the short term of it … oh no.)

I’M GLAD THAT SADIE ASKED IF HE TOLD LARS’S PARENTS (and that he apparently intends to do so after telling Sadie).

Aaaaand this episode just got one hundred times more topical.

IF NANEFUA DOES NOT BECOME THE MAYOR, I WILL BE EXTREMELY DISAPPOINTED WITH YOU, SHOW.

I mean yeah, okay, there really isn’t anything Dewey CAN do about homeworld gems but at the same time also, fuck Dewey.

THIS “EVERYTHING IS MY FAULT” IS SOME KIND OF HORRIBLE REBECCA BUNCH-STYLE SPIRAL. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOUR MOMS AND DAD?????

“Someone posted it on Tube-Tube.” And 12 people is HALF THE TOWN. AMAZING.

“You’re like the son I never had.” “… you have a son.” This episode is VERY self-aware.

YAY, NANEFUA IS MAYOR.

And very transparent lesson for Steven. “That’s probably how Connie feels.” NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.

… WOAH THEN.

Okay, so if I do have a complaint about this episode, it’s that I don’t think paralleling Steven with Dewey was the best way for Steven to realize that he’s been hurting people. But, I’m glad that it showed the mess that Steven arrived back to in the wake of his actions, especially with Sadie and Lars’s parents,

AND THEN IT STUCK THE LANDING.

WHEN CONNIE DIDN’T PICK UP.

Like it will probably be fixed soon but I’M GLAD IT WASN’T OVER AND DONE WITH IN ONE EPISODE. CONNIE IS RIGHT TO STICK TO HER GUNS. CONNIE FOR PRESIDENT.

“Gemcation”

GOOD, I’M GLAD CONNIE IS STILL STICKING TO HER GUNS.

“Are you good?? Are you safe?? Do you still love me??” GREG YOUR SON NEEDS SOME PROFESSIONAL HELP, JESUS CHRIST.

(yes yes, then there would be no show. THIS IS STILL GETTING TO HORRIBLE “CRAZY EX-GIRLFRIEND” LEVELS).

“I still have like, $9 million dollars left.” I’M GLAD THIS SHOW DOESN’T FORGET THINGS.

Steven trying to wash dishes by literally rubbing the bottle of soap against them = DEPRESSION.

Okay so 1. FAMILY VACATION IS A GOOD IDEA but also 2. BY THE AWKWARD “WOOOS” THIS IS DOOMED TO DISASTER.

I don’t know what Amethyst was doing with that egg and I don’t want to know.

GOOD JOB COACHING YOURSELF THROUGH THAT, GARNET. A+.

GREG SENDING AMETHYST TO BE FUN MOM FOR STEVEN. A+.

OMG she’s trying to give him a “Steven speech.” SHE’S TRYING HER BEST.

I WANT TO BE IN A HOT TUB WITH GARNET.

Look Steven, I want you to get help, I really do, because you need it, but I could do without YOUR PISSY ATTITUDE GETTING IN THE WAY OF POSSIBLE MORE BACKSTORY ON PINK DIAMOND K THANKS.

YAY THEY’RE ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT HOW TO BE PARENTS TO STEVEN. A+++.

Man things have gotten REALLY bad when your solution to emotional disaster is SEND IN PEARL.

Hmmm … I REALLY do not know right now what to make of Pearl saying that she WANTED Steven to see Homeworld someday WITH HER, so I’m going to leave that there and stew on it for a while.

OKAY, I LAUGHED AT ALL THE RONALDO TEXTS, I ADMIT IT.

Gee, these episodes sure would be effective if they were, I don’t know, SPACED OUT A WEEK OR SOMETHING, LIKE A NORMAL SHOW? SO WE COULD REALLY HAVE SOME TIME PASSING AND SUCH?

Hmph. This episode was good but I must admit that I’m a little frustrated that … well yes Steven would care about Connie THE MOST, that’s fine, but his complete nonchalance about Homeworld … I don’t know. As a stalling tactic to delay more information/reveals, trying to sell it as “Steven is more concerned about his friends than Homeworld stuff” is getting REALLY threadbare after that whole DIAMOND TRIAL/PINK ZOMBIE LARS business. Unless the idea is that he’s repressing the fuck out of it, it is REALLY straining my personal disbelief that Steven WOULDN’T care to know any more at this point.

But all the Greg and Gems parenting stuff was GOOD.

“Raising the Barn”

Oh look. The barn is in the title. Fancy that. I wonder what this will be about.

(CAN YOU GUESS THE THING I WAS SPOILED ABOUT AND AM REALLY REALLY UNHAPPY ABOUT????)

I am REALLY loving this whole “Connie is keeping her distance” thing but AGAIN this would be MUCH MORE EFFECTIVE if this were in a WEEKLY format. (this show doesn’t have bad pacing it has A BAD FUCKING NETWORK)

VIDTIME WITH PERIDOT. A+

LAPIS BLUSHING BECAUSE SHE “WORRIED STEVEN LOST HIS PHONE ON HOMEWORLD.” MY … HEART … .

“Tell us about space!” THIS IS WHY PERIDOT AND LAPIS ARE THE BEST. THEY CARE ABOUT WHAT I CARE ABOUT.

YAY, TRAUMA TIME WITH LAPIS. MY FAVORITE!!!!! (that is actually … both sarcastic but ALSO NOT)

“But they’re installations They need the context of the barn!” I FUCKING LOVE ART LESBIAN PERIDOT.

“There’s not need to get so emotional!” THAT’S THE OCEAN CALLING THE LAKE BLUE, LAPIS.

STRONG WATER WITCH DAUGHTER IS STRONG.

Soooo … . Lapis wants to leave. Peridot does not.

… are they going to break up my OTP?

I AM NOT PLEASED WITH THE DIRECTION THIS IS GOING IN.

ESPECIALLY BECAUSE OF THAT FUCKING SPOILER I SAW.

Oh no Pumpkin is ~missing~ how very ~inconvenient~

STEVEN’S FACE IS MY FACE DURING ALL OF THIS.

Oh great. There goes my favorite character.

THAT’S NICE.

Like, obviously everything that happened was completely in-character but fuck it, I’m going to be petty as fuck about this. I AM NOT HAPPY THAT LAPIS IS GONE AND THAT SHE LEFT PERIDOT BEHIND. WHO KNOWS WHEN I’LL GET TO SEE MY WATER DAUGHTER AGAIN. THANKS A LOT, SHOW.

(I WAS SPOILED THAT SHE WOULD LEAVE!!! AND I WAS VERY PISSED!!! I’M STILL PISSED HONESTLY!!!!)

I’M GOING TO BE REAL FUCKING PETTY ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE PROBABLY, SO HEAD’S UP ABOUT THAT.

“Back to the Kindergarden”

So the theme for this season is DEPRESSION.

PERIDOT REPRESENTS EXACTLY HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS TURN OF EVENTS.

Still, it’s sweet that Steven let her have the bathroom again.

I DON’T KNOW WHY PERIDOT DEPRESSED = COUNTRY MUSIC, BUT I FIND THAT KIND OF DELIGHTFUL.

THIS IS LITERALLY THE MOST I HAVE RELATED TO PERDIOT EVER.

Awwww, Amethyst is still happy about getting to meet all her sisters up in space. That’s sweet!

“You can make us feel dumb by telling us all the stuff we don’t know!” AMETHYST, YOU ARE A GEM IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD.

“My sector of countryside was perfect. Now it’s somewhere in space.” Even aside my own personal pissiness, re: this turn of events, PERIDOT IS STILL PAINFUL. HELP THE NERD GEM.

THE FLOWER IS A METAPHOR.

Yeah “re-gardening the kindergarden” WON’T have disastrous effects, I’m so sure.

OKAY, THEM PLANTING SUNFLOWERS IS SUPER ADORABLE.

“I’m glad I was able to fix something.” And something terrible happened to the garden in 3 … 2 … 1…

YEP.

Me: “and of course the flower was a horrible corrupted gem.” Perdiot: “OH! OF COURSE!” Aaaaah, I love the nerd gem a lot.

YAY SMOKY QUARTZ!!!!

I am … REALLY tempted to make a moodboard out of Peridot’s expression in this whole episode. For they are MY MOOD.

“Yeah. We got the subtext.” = THIS IS A GOOD EPISODE FOR AMETHYST.

Okay THIS episode I really liked. Good messaging about depression, and lots of delightful Steven + Amethyst + Peridot hangout times.

I’M STILL FUCKIGONEGIHE PISSED ABOUT LAPIS THOUGH.

FUCK IT, I WILL MAKE THAT MOODBOARD RIGHT NOW.

Yes I am fully aware of the fucking lack of self-awareness of making a moodboard of depressed/angry Peridot faces when the episode is supposed to be about moving on, I AM WELL FUCKING AWARE.

“Sadie Killer”

UM

WELL THAT TITLE ISN’T FOREBODING AT ALL

I HOPE THIS IS THE CASE OF “MENACING-SOUNDING TITLE IS ACTUALLY FUN GOOFY EPISODE” BECAUSE FRANKLY I COULD USE SOME FUN GOOFINESS RIGHT ABOUT NOW.

Oh great. Sadie is working herself to death alone in the Big Donut. THAT’S JUST GREAT.

YOU SHOULD BE IN THIS CUTE BAND, SADIE. ENJOY YOUR FREEDOM FROM LARS.

Good, I can use some Cool Kid nonsense right now. YOU KNOW WHO ELSE COULD???? SADIE!!!!

“I just feel like this seafood festival needs to hear something challenging and provocative.” I am very happy about this.

DOO-DOO

BUTT

THE GOVERNMENT

CORRUPTS

THIS IS THE KIND OF HARD-HITTING SOCIAL COMMENTARY WE NEED IN THESE TRYING TIMES (ahhhh thank you Buck for putting a smile on my face in the midst of my LAPIS DEPRESSION-ANGER)

WHAT? KEEP AT YOUR PRACTICE SO SADIE CAN PARTICIPATE. YOU GUYS ARE BUTTS CORRUPTED BY THE GOVERNMENT.

Awwww, they came over to her place to jam with her! I RESCIND THE PREVIOUS ASPERSIONS ABOUT YOU GUYS BEING BUTTS.

Can the rest of this movie just be them watching crappy horror movies with Sadie? IT WOULD PLEASE ME.

CHANNELING YOUR ANGST THROUGH SPOOKY SCARY MUSIC – A+++++++++

THIS IS. MY PRECISE CONTENT.

“First, lose your youth to your boring job.” THIS EPISODE IS REAL.

And it ends with … Sadie quitting her job. Um, okay?

BUT I GOT SPOOKY SCARY SONGS WITH SADIE AND THE COOL KIDS AND THAT IS REALLY ALL I ASK FOR AT THIS POINT.

“Kevin Party”

NOT FUCKING KEVIN. REALLY?

THIS WILL ONLY BE ACCEPTABLE IF CONNIE IS IN IT.

Looks like Lion has been staying with Connie this whole time then? GOOD, SHE DESERVES A GIANT ZOMBIE LION TO BE THERE FOR HER.

Ugh, do we REALLY need Kevin to show up for every Stevonnie episode? DO WE?

YOU JERK, HE BROUGHT YOU POCKY.

LOOKS LIKE CONNIE IS DOING JUST FINE WITH HER CUTE NEW HAIRDO.

There is entirely too much Kevin in this episode for my liking.

BLAH BLAH BLAH, EMOTIONAL TALK, FRIENDS AGAIN, THE IMPORTANT THING IS THEY DITCH THE PARTY WITHOUT TURNING INTO STEVONNIE. BECAUSE FUCK KEVIN.

Okay, final thoughts:

THIS CONNIE-FIGHT/DEPRESSION ARC WOULD’VE WORKED BETTER SPREAD OUT FURTHER, BECAUSE THERE WAS JUST A LOT OF DEPRESSION.

“Dewey Wins” – really good as a follow-up episode to all the space stuff, just didn’t think Dewey was the best conduit for the message

“Gemcation” – I very much enjoyed Greg and the Gems trying to be good parents. NOT buying the whole “Steven doesn’t care about Homeworld” shit though.

“Raising the Barn” – I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

“Back to the Kindergarden” – PERIDOT IS ME. This one might be my favorite because it had a good mix of cute stuff and funny Amethyst lines (I didn’t mention it above but “Can I bring my music?”/”NO.” was a real solid laugh from me) and depression stuff, but also, PERIDOT IS ME.

“Sadie Killer” – I hope that ending means Sadie gets a better job soon and not that she’s just … unemployed. BUT I LIKED SADIE’S ANGST THROUGH SPOOKY MUSIC, THAT WAS GOOD STUFF. The Cool Kids were some much-needed levity during this little arc.

“Kevin Party” – I GREATLY dispute the idea that we needed KEVIN to get Steven and Connie talking again, Jesus Christ.

(okay I know we’re back in the “Beach City funtimes” stuff but … Pearl and Garnet were only in ONE of these episodes? REALLY? ESPECIALLY GARNET. DESPERATELY LACKING GARNET FOR FIVE DAMN EPISODES.)

(ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU KICK OFF MY FAVORITE CHARACTER)

(SHE’S NOW IN THE “WHO KNOWS” VOID OF MY OTHER FAVES, THE ZIRCONS, SO THANKS A BUNCH FOR THAT, SUGAR WOMAN.)

I don’t know these episodes to me felt mostly … fine. The start of the season was SO FUCKING GOOD with the entire Homeworld arc, and I’m not usually so down on the Beach City episodes as most but … geez there was just a LOT of general down-ness and depression in these episodes. I hope the episodes after this have less down-ness, or not have Steven LITERALLY INTERRUPT POSSIBLE BACKSTORY BECAUSE OF HIS BAD MOOD, THANKS.

… I’M STILL SALTY ABOUT LAPIS. DON’T @ ME.

[shockcity]

Bagginshield #14 - in a fairytale

Rating: M

Summary: for the 30 Day OTP Challenge. Detective Inspector Durin has been trying to put Smaug behind bars for years, but something almost...supernatural keeps getting in the way. Bilbo Baggins has been running since he was a kid, but no matter where he goes he can't escape his curse. Maybe they can help each other. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting/Magical Realism

Part II

Also on ao3

second note: ummm I think this was difficult for people to read cuz it's like 18k words and the app dies when you try to bring it up (/ω＼) so im reposting this in two parts sorry for the technical problems~ this is part II!

It was tempting to simply besiege the warehouse right that very moment – to run out and recklessly challenge Smaug with their oh so intimidating team made up of one magical hipster, a sort-of-but-you-had-better-not-ask wizard, and a disgraced detective inspector. But food and rest could not wait, and took priority over even the destruction of a great evil.

Bilbo was more than happy to just sit back and eat, and Thorin couldn't help but goggle as he gorged himself on an entire loaf of bread, three thick chunks of cheese, and a whole sleeve of chocolate digestives.

"Don't stare," Bilbo said, swallowing his mouthful and giving Thorin a bashful look. "Doing magic makes me hungry!"

"Do you do a lot of magic then?" Thorin couldn't help but tease.

Bilbo's jaw dropped. "Are you calling me fat?!"

Thorin bit back a smile. "Plump," he said. "That's what I thought when I first saw you...that you were pleasantly plump."

"Yeah, sure," Bilbo said skeptically. He finished off his cup of tea and leaned back in his chair a bit despondently.

And now Thorin felt bad.

"It's true!" he said, before pausing to find the right words. "I...well, to be honest, I thought you were lovely. And I...was very disappointed that you were a suspect in a murder."

He made a face at his own awkwardness but Bilbo was extremely amused. "And now that I'm not a suspect?"

Thorin raised his eyebrows. "And now that I know that you're just a magic man with a guitar, you mean?"

Bilbo smiled. "Yeah," he said, motioning for Thorin to answer.

"I...." He blew out a breath, realizing that Bilbo was just teasing. "You're a menace."

Bilbo cracked up. "A pleasantly plump one, though!" he cackled. "Hey, I'm flattered. Sincerely flattered. Still, I don't think it's a good idea to start dating each other while people are trying to kill us."

Thorin nodded sardonically.

"But once this is over I think we should probably have lots of sex."

Thorin's eyes widened, which only set Bilbo off again. Thankfully Gandalf decided that they were all in need of quiet time and herded Bilbo into Radagast's room to sleep. The wizard came back a little later and joined Thorin at the table, pouring himself a cup of tea with a sigh.

"You should sleep too, you know," Gandalf told him, watching him intently over the rim of his teacup.

Thorin considered him for a moment. "You knew my father well," he said, after a short silence. "You know about our...ancestry. About this whole world I'm supposed to be apart of."

Gandalf hummed in agreement.

"Why did my father never tell me?"

The wizard shook his head. "That I cannot answer, Thorin. I don't know why he kept it a secret from you. Perhaps he sought to keep you away from the danger that comes with knowing. Perhaps he thought you wouldn't want to know. I can only guess."

Thorin stared at his hands. "Then can you tell me this," he said, looking up and into Gandalf's eyes. "Who really killed my father?"

"Ah." Gandalf rubbed a hand down his face tiredly. "I suspect you met him tonight."

"After you get me what I want, I will kill you slowly."

Thorin raised his gun.

"Like I did your father."

"His name is Azog. He is the leader of a Warg pack, one of the many that work for Smaug on occasion. Now be aware, I am not entirely sure what happened, but Azog's kin fought your grandfather at one point, and many of them were wiped out. Azog swore an oath that he would destroy the line of Durin, and avenge his fallen pack. That is why he hunts you now, and it is likely what killed your father, in the end."

"Azog," Thorin said, repeating his name like a curse.

"Don't let vengeance cloud your judgement," Gandalf warned him. "You will meet your father's killer in battle soon enough."

He took the advice to heart and nodded. Gandalf pulled out a pipe from his robes (the man looked absolutely ridiculous in them, and Thorin wondered what normal people would have to say about it if they could see him) and packed it with tobacco. He puffed until the leaves smoldered, looking tired but peaceful.

A bit like Bilbo, in that he was excellent at pretending to be unfazed. Which reminded him....

"Can I ask you something?" he said, breaking the silence.

Gandalf eyed him amusedly, chewing on the end of his pipe. "You want to know about Bilbo," he surmised.

Thorin dipped his head somewhat sheepishly.

"You would not be the first, nor will you be the last, to be fascinated by Bilbo Baggins." Thorin started, having not known Bilbo's last name. "He is truly a one of a kind creature that never fails to surprise me."

Thorin's mouth quirked. "I don't know him that well," he admitted. "But somehow I understand what you mean."

"Yes, I dare say you do." The old wizard winked at him.

Trying not to blush, Thorin shook his head and turned serious again. "What I want to know is what his connection to Smaug is...why does he want Bilbo?"

Gandalf, whose face had grown more and more resigned as Thorin spoke, let out heavy sigh. "It's rather a long story."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," he said, accidentally sounding a lot like his bobby alter-ego. "I want to know."

"Alright. I suppose...I suppose it starts with his power."

Thorin leaned forward.

"Bilbo's power is quite singular," said Gandalf. "Words have weight, and with the right words, well – you've seen what he can do; call up storms, ward off enemies, cause terrible destruction – I have also seen his influence on the mind. He can...persuade people to do things. Sometimes without him even realizing it. The point is, Bilbo has an extremely useful gift. Useful...but dangerous if uncontrolled, and Bilbo struggles with restraint."

"What about that other minstrel in England?" Thorin asked. "Bilbo said there was two. How do they control their powers?"

The old wizard sighed again. His favorite thing to do tonight, it seemed. "There is no second minstrel," he revealed. "There's not another minstrel in all the world. I made it up, to convince our kind that Bilbo is not as special as he truly is. I thought the existence of another would lure Smaug into seeking this fictitious person out, but alas, I underestimated Smaug's obsession with the boy."

"What is that obsession? Why does he want Bilbo so much?"

"Partially for his power." Gandalf shrugged. "But also because of his mother."

He frowned. "His mother?"

"Yes," Gandalf paused and relit his pipe, his expression reluctant. "What happened was this: one day, Bilbo's father got very sick, and Belladonna, Bilbo's mother, could not cure him. They had only been married six months...and here was Bungo at death's door. She was heartbroken. Bella worked night and day to find a cure for him, but nothing helped. It wasn't until another apothecary told her of the healing power of dragon scales, that Bella considered approaching Smaug. Unwilling to lose Bungo, she took the risk and begged the dragon for his help. Most likely finding her amusing, Smaug gave her one of his scales and simply told her that all he asked for in repayment was the fulfillment of a request at a later date."

Thorin winced.

"Yes. Terrible mistake. Bella returned home, and of course the scale worked, and Bungo was back on his feet in no time at all. Three months later, Bella realized she was pregnant with Bilbo, and he was born a healthy baby in late September. As the years passed little Bilbo was a delight to his parents and his extended relations; a bright star in an otherwise murky sky, one might say. And then one day, when Bilbo was six years old, Smaug finally called upon Bella for his favor.

"I think that he probably meant to ask her to do something cruel and humiliating for him. Yes, he no doubt had some form of torment in mind. But then, of course, he met Bilbo, and immediately knew that the boy had immense power. So he asked Belladonna for repayment...in the form of her firstborn son.

"As you can imagine, this didn't go over well. So Smaug made her a deal (he likes his games, if you recall). He would give them three chances to find a better form of repayment than the little boy. Once a year, he would visit and ask what they had for him instead. Three chances. Three years.

"The first year they presented him with their wealth. They'd worked endless hours, and saved and scrounged for months, feeding only Bilbo, until they'd collected a good sized fortune. This they offered to Smaug, but the dragon only laughed, and kissed and hugged Bilbo, who did not know any better and showed Smaug open affection (and I must say, I have always wondered if that had ever affected him; there were many times the dragon could have simply killed the boy, and yet...) in any case, he did not accept their offering, and went away until the next year.

"When he returned the second time, Bella and Bungo offered him something far more precious: their blood. Magical blood is extremely potent, and with it other magicals can, for a time, harness the other's gift. It cannot be donated by the very powerful, I'm afraid (and Belladonna was indeed, quite strong) so it was Bungo who stepped forward in exchange for his son's freedom. Smaug claimed that he would first try a taste of the man's blood to see whether or not it suited him. But a taste was not what he had in mind. He killed Bungo; tore him limb from limb as his wife watched, and after it was over, he announced that the blood was not good enough, and warned Belladonna that she had but one more year before she lost her son forever."

"He killed Bilbo's father."

"Yes. Now it was in the third year that everything changed. I never learned what Bella had planned to offer Smaug, for in the end it didn't matter. Smaug had something he wanted this time. A request that would void out his earlier claim on Bilbo. He had heard from some other calamity – some evil whisper somewhere – of words that could bring him unimaginable power. Of words that would give him dominion over the entire world. All Smaug needed was a wordsmith, a minstrel – a creature whom, at the time, was considered only a myth. But Smaug had suspected for a while that Bilbo was of the Words, and so he came to the Bagginses with a plan...and a curse.

"What he had with him was unspeakable. They were Words that should never be said aloud; should never be read, or even written down. Words that only Bilbo could invoke. But what Smaug did not realize was that though the power was within the Words, it also came from the wordsmith. That is to say, unless Smaug himself possessed Bilbo's gift, it could not be transferred. And it could not be stolen."

"So Bilbo has this...unimaginable power?"

"Perhaps," Gandalf muttered noncommittally. "Perhaps not. All that is known is that after it was Said, Smaug went off believing that it had worked. By the time he realized that he had been given nothing, Bella and Bilbo had already fled. From then on they moved about the world, helped by me and other enemies of Smaug. Kept secret. Safe. Smaug took her defiance very personally, and part of the reason he has searched so obsessively for them was because he believed that he had been tricked. They were truly lucky to have lived undetected for so long. Then, when Belladonna fell ill and died, Bilbo wanted more than anything to return to his home. And well, you see how that turned out."

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment. "Then he is in great danger.”

"We all are," Gandalf agreed, and then gave him a pointed look. "But that's where you come in."

In the next room, in a dream that he would not remember come morning, Bilbo stood in front of a roaring bonfire on a white cliff that overlooked an endless black sea.

"Alright, little one, you know what to do."

Bilbo smiled up at the nice man and turned to face the fire. He inhaled, slow and deep, and with considerable power collected on his tongue, he said,

"One ring to rule them all...."

"Do we even have a plan?"

"Of course we do, weren't you paying attention?"

"Yes, but I thought you were joking."

"Quiet."

They fell silent as Gandalf glanced around the warehouse from their hiding place behind a shipping container, his eyes roving over the men that prowled around the yard. Bilbo fidgeted beside Thorin, his guitar on his back, and Thorin almost laughed aloud when he realized that, in this case, his gun was completely outclassed next to a acoustic guitar. Bilbo caught him staring and gave him a 'what?' look.

"There," Gandalf suddenly spoke. He pointed his staff at a large tower crane just as its engines fired up. Lorries beeped as they backed up out of its way, and a man in a hard hat suddenly shouted and made the universal sign for OK. The crane rose, and on the end of it was...a rock?

"What the hell is that?"

But it wasn't Gandalf that answered. Instead, Bilbo got a queer look in his eye, and whispered, "there hammer on the anvil smote, there chisel clove, and graver wrote. There forged was blade, and bound was hilt; the delver mined, the mason built."

"Durin's axe," said Gandalf.

Thorin frowned at the rock attached to the end of the crane, until suddenly, he caught sight of something glinting in the sunlight. He then realized what he was looking at: it was a hilt. The hilt of an axe – which was firmly lodged in stone.

"That belongs to you," Bilbo told him, turning to him with a smile.

Thorin smiled back fondly.

"Now is our only chance," Gandalf interrupted, getting to his feet rather nimbly for an old man. "Thorin, you must get to the axe. No matter what happens, this is your task. You cannot fail."

"What am I supposed to do after that?" Thorin demanded, rattled by Gandalf's intensity.

The wizard stared into his eyes gravely. "You will know," was all he said. "Bilbo, with me."

"What? Wait!"

Bilbo put a reassuring hand on Thorin's shoulder. "It'll be alright," he told him. "We're just going to cause a distraction. It'll be fun."

Thorin wasn't fooled for a moment.

"Be careful," he said worriedly. "I mean it, Bilbo."

"I will," Bilbo promised, and then flashed him a wicked grin. "After all, I'm looking forward to all that sex."

Thorin blushed, and Bilbo laughed into the back of his hand as he moved away and ran off after Gandalf.

He turned his attention back to the axe. The workers were slowly lowering it onto the back of a flatbed lorry, and it didn't look as though they were in any sort of a hurry. As he waited, he checked his magazine before clicking the safety off his gun.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as a cacophonous screeching sound suddenly split the air. Forgetting what he was doing for a moment, he looked about wildly until he spotted the source of the commotion. A stack of shipping containers had toppled over, hitting another stack and causing three more to fall like dominoes. And there...there was Gandalf standing on top of a high platform, his staff glowing white.

Thorin heard a deep and guttural growl, and saw that the workers had abandoned their human skins for fur. Wargs. At least thirty of them. They snarled at Gandalf, half-crouched like sprinters at the starting line, ready to tear the wizard apart.

But then something sweet whistled through the air – something soft like a slow breeze at dusk, whispering:

come and see come and see what's hidden underneath come and see come and see my great big teeth.

Bilbo. Thorin spotted him on another container, perched like Gandalf and glowing – a smile on his face.

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

The ground exploded. It cracked and rose like a rocky wave, striking out at the Wargs and knocking them off their feet. Thorin himself was unaffected, and he knew that it was now or never. He tore off toward the stone as fast as his feet could carry him.

Rock and dust flew up around him as the Wargs yelped. Another pulse of Bilbo's guitar ripped through the air, propelling a Warg away from Thorin. He managed to get a few shots off, taking out two men coming for him head on, and then he made it to the lorry and slid behind it for cover.

His breath caught as he looked up and saw the axe in the stone. His birthright.

He knew what to do.

With a grunt, Thorin climbed up the side of the lorry and onto the bed. Around him the fight carried on, but he paid it no mind. He could not tear his eyes away from the axe.

Thorin reached forward. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt. He lifted.

The axe slid out, and the world trembled.

For a time Thorin wasn't aware of where he was, of what he was doing, or even who he was. There was only light; the light of the axe in his hand which shown bright enough to blind him. But it wasn't only coming from the axe, for it also grew out of Thorin's own body – enveloping him in warmth, and in courage, and in strength. It was a feeling reminiscent of being reunited with a long lost love. Of becoming whole.

This light had been in him all along, and all that was needed to summon it was his ancestor's call. A call he could hear now. And this time, he didn't need Bilbo to craft the words for him.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk; Beneath the mountains music woke: The harpers harped, the minstrels sang, And at the gates the trumpets rang. 5

Thorin could see something above him, hovering in and out of his mind's eye, and real, if one chose to look. It was bright and big, and strangely familiar to his heart.

It was a crown of stars.

The image shattered, and in its place was a shining helm, slowly descending toward Thorin. When it came close enough, he instinctively straightened his neck, letting it fall onto his head with gentle finality. It was then that Thorin came back to himself. He looked at the axe in his hand and touched the helm on his head, and felt content for the first time in a long time.

There was a growl - too close - and a Warg pounced on him, throwing them both over the side of the lorry. Viciously it snapped in Thorin's face with its sharp teeth and putrid breath. He struggled to get the thing off of him, using both hands to push the hilt of the axe into the Warg's neck to keep it from biting him. Thorin managed to get a leg underneath him and he shoved as hard as he could.

The Warg fell, but another one came for him from the opposite direction. Thorin breathed hard, glancing down at his weapon. He brought it down to his side, took a deep breath, and sliced upward.

The ground rose with it, summoning hot rock and spitting magma. Black stone bloomed at his feet, cracked with crawling lava. He suddenly registered the screams – the Warg, blinded by Thorin's strike, was now writhing in the dirt. He turned to see the other gain its feet and charge him, and this time Thorin made contact. The axe cracked into the Warg's chest and sent it flying.

Before he could marvel at its strength, he was being attacked again, and this time he noticed that Bilbo and Gandalf were facing the Wargs too, and that their numbers had grown.

It was a veritable army that marched toward them now, all of them glaring with bright eyes full of malice. Thorin fought off the Wargs closest to him and stopped to think for a moment, breathing hard.

His wandering gaze found the tower crane.

It was risky, but there were too many for Thorin to take on by himself, and Bilbo and Gandalf had to be tiring.... He made his decision and sprinted over to its base, quickly judging where he should strike.

Please let this work, he thought, before using both hands to draw back the axe and chop at the base of the crane, almost as if it were a tree.

He'd figured it would take a couple of hits, but this was also one hell of an axe.

The base exploded as if Thorin had launched a rocket at it. There was an ungodly, groaning screech – one of the strangest and most frightening sounds he had ever heard – and then the crane was coming down. The Wargs in its path didn't stand a chance, for there was nowhere to really run. The steel rained from the sky and landed with a tremendous crash.

Thorin watched, wide-eyed, as the dust cleared. He caught a glimpse of Bilbo hopping up and down on his container, cheering, and couldn't help but smile.

They had won.

And then there was pain.

"Thorin!"

From far away he heard Bilbo call to him, but there was something wrong...his arm –

He opened his eyes just in time to dodge Azog's mace. Rolling to his feet with a pained moan, Thorin held his axe and his aching arm close to his chest. The pain was horrible, and he could feel warm blood trailing down his fingers.

Azog did not wait for Thorin to gain his bearings. He charged, swinging his mace toward Thorin's head. He let go of his arm and brought the axe up to parry, dragging the mace to the side. Thorin backed away swiftly as Azog moved to swipe at him again. He heard a frightened yelp coming from where Bilbo was, and he turned to see...he wasn't sure what he was seeing.

Giant...trolls?

The earth trembled as they moved toward Bilbo and Gandalf, the wizard raising his staff high into the air. But then Thorin had no time to watch his companions, because Azog was lumbering toward him with a cruel smile on his face.

"Durin," he growled, and there was amusement in his voice. "Durin the Deathless. King Under the Mountain."

Thorin frowned, keeping his axe up as Azog circled him.

"That right is mine," said Azog, pointing his mace at Thorin's helm. "That is my crown."

"This is the right of Durin's folk," he snapped, angry that Azog was even looking at the weapon of his ancestors. "Not filth like you!"

"Durin's folk," Azog laughed, his scarred face deforming grotesquely. "Dead folk. Unworthy. Not even Thrain's pride could inspire your ancestors to crown a new king."

Thorin went very still. "You killed him – " he said, shaking with fury. "It was you, wasn't it? You bastard – "

"I thought the old fool would pull the axe from the stone, and then I would harness its power." Azog eyed the weapon and helm with envy. "But it seems your father was not good enough for the crown. It seems he wasn't a true king."

Thorin attacked, bringing up his axe and striking at Azog over and over. The Warg managed to block, but something else was happening – heat rose from the ground, blackening everywhere Thorin stepped, and embers rose from the hot blade of his axe, creating a burning gust as powerful as the strongest bellows in the largest forge.

Rage raised the fire higher, and rock and ash burst from the ground and pummeled Azog from every side. Still Thorin pressed him, roaring as the earth shook and flames leapt from the edge of his blade. Azog cried out and smashed to the dirt after a particularly hard strike, and Thorin stood over him panting.

Azog cackled, blood on his teeth.

Father, thought Thorin. He raised the axe....

There lies his crown in water deep, i> till Durin wakes again from sleep. 

....and brought it down.

"Whoa, there," he said, catching Gandalf as he swayed from side to side. "Alright, old man?"

"Old!" Gandalf coughed, giving Thorin a one-eyed glare. "Old enough to take care of those!"

He waved his staff in the direction of the giant, ugly....

"What are these exactly?"

"Trolls!" said Gandalf, stretching his back with a pained groan. "Dimwitted creatures with terrible hygiene."

Thorin's mouth twitched. "Well done, then," he said. "Where's Bilbo gone?"

"He's around here somewhere." Gandalf waved a hand vaguely.

"I'll get him." Thorin moved off once he was sure the wizard wouldn't fall over, and walked toward Bilbo's container. He looked up as he came to it, but didn't see him.

"Bilbo?" Thorin called, but there was no answer.

Frowning, Thorin walked around to where he'd last seen the man, standing tall and invincible and laughing in the face of an army. But Bilbo wasn't there.

Thorin squinted, catching sight of a trail of blood. His eyes followed it from the top of the container to the bottom, where it pooled sickeningly. He quickly followed it  around to the other side, and then gasped.

On the ground beside where Bilbo once stood – was his guitar.

Thorin plucked at a few strings listlessly, staring off into the distance. He heard Gandalf arguing with someone in the next room, but couldn't be bothered to listen. He kept seeing Bilbo's quirky little smile, and he swore he could hear his sweet, understated voice singing words filled with affection and good humor. It was strange how much Bilbo being gone affected him – Thorin not only felt paralyzed with guilt and worry, but his heart was hurting too.

" – matter of great importance! I would not ask otherwise!"

There was a low murmur as whoever it was they were talking to responded to Gandalf. Then there was silence. Thorin looked toward the door as Gandalf came thundering out of the room. He caught a glimpse of a glowing orb and a timid looking Radagast, before Gandalf's terrible temper demanded his attention.

"They refuse to help! Insufferable creatures!"

"Who?"

"Your subjects, that's who! Our fellows who are too scared of calamities to fight them, and much too stupid to understand that they haven't a choice! Evil such as this can never be left to its own devices!"

Thorin scoffed. "And they won't answer to me? To the king of...whatever?"

"They need proof first," explained Gandalf, his face stormy. "And they will get it, but not now. Now we must rescue Bilbo from Smaug. Do you remember what I told you, Thorin, of Bilbo's story?"

He met Gandalf's eyes, recalling the details now...realizing that things were a lot more dire than he thought. "Bilbo's power...."

"Yes," Gandalf confirmed gravely. "Which is why I must go with or without the help of my peers. Without you, even. I cannot leave Bilbo to this horrid fate, nor allow this world to suffer the spread of so great a darkness. Smaug must be stopped."

Thorin swung the guitar around his back and stood up. He faced the wizard determinedly, jamming the helm onto his head and holding onto his axe with both hands.

"Let's go," he said.

But Gandalf did not move, and instead looked down at Thorin gravely. "It is very dangerous," he warned. "We may very well die."

Thorin shook his head. "I don't care."

The wizard nodded. "Good, nor do I," he agreed, and they set off into the night.

Thorin had never technically been to Smaug's penthouse. He'd certainly staked out the outside of it, but he didn't think that counted. Getting a search warrant from the magistrates had always been like pulling teeth, but in Smaug's case it was nearly impossible. He was a man of means and shamelessly unethical, and approaching the courts with a blank cheque was not above him, nor would it be a surprise. All this meant was that storming the flat, as it were, was made doubly difficult by Thorin's not knowing the place he was walking into.

"What should we do? Is there a way in? Should we climb up the lift shaft?"

Gandalf stared at him dubiously. "Don't be ridiculous, we need only convince the security guards to let us pass. I don't imagine it will be very difficult. Though your appearance leaves much to be desired."

"My appearance?" Thorin said. "You're wearing a dress and a pointy hat."

Gandalf narrowed his eyes at him, but Thorin pressed on. "Can't you do a spell? Make us invisible? Bilbo mentioned that he could do something like that."

"Yes, but that is Bilbo," the wizard told him. "My magic is quite different from his, I'm afraid. Spells like invisibility are too subtle for me to do with any sort of precision, I would only blow you up if I were to attempt it."

Thorin did not want to be blown up.

"Right." He nodded. "I'll hide my axe and take the helm off if you'll at least give up the cap. I'm assuming the staff is staying?"

Gandalf scowled at him – so yes.

Without further delay, Thorin and the wizard made their way to Smaug's building. His flat was at the very top, and Thorin eyed the lifts behind the front desk determinedly. A security guard stood by, watching them.

"Can I help you?" said the concierge.

"Yes, I'm afraid I've locked myself out of my flat," Gandalf lied, and not very well. "I'll just be going – "

"I'm sorry, sir." The concierge frowned. "May I ask your name?"

Gandalf looked from side to side, as if thinking over his options. Thorin covered his eyes with his hand.

"Smaug...?" said Gandalf.

The concierge raised both eyebrows and looked the old man up and down. "Sorry?"

The security guard was stepping forward.

"No, no," the wizard said hastily. "I mean that Smaug is my nephew. Yes. My favorite nephew. Although perhaps not."

"I'll go ahead and phone Mr. Smaug, sir, and see if we can't clear this up," offered the concierge, his expression bemused.

"No!" Gandalf said. "There's no need for that, surely? Can I call you Shirley?"

Thorin groaned aloud this time.

"It's a surprise visit! Yes. For his...birthday."

The concierge hung up the phone. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Oh, but...." The security guard was coming over now, and there went their chances of remaining inconspicuous. The doors to the lobby suddenly crashed open, and Thorin and Gandalf turned to look.

Blocking their exit was a group of truly bizarre looking creatures. They were humpbacked and bald, their pallor a sickly grey and their eyes too big for their face. They snarled, showing off rotted, blackened teeth, and began to prowl closer.

"What are these things?" asked Thorin, slamming his helm on his head and taking the axe out from under his coat.

"Goblins," said Gandalf. "Very fast. Man-eaters. Quite unpleasant."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, and then prepared to defend himself as the daywalkers shot toward them. Thorin swung his axe and two of the creatures went flying. He saw the wizard point his staff, sending three into fits of pain. They screeched and drooled on the floor, but their fellows did not stop to help them. There were so many, coming from out of nowhere – Thorin struck out over and over but saw no end to them.

"Enough!" said Gandalf, clearing a space around himself. "Keep that helm on your head, Thorin Durin, or perish with them."

"What?" Thorin shouted, but Gandalf was already raising his staff.

He brought it down and a blinding light filled the room. Thorin slammed his eyes closed, listening as the snarls abruptly stopped and a car horn went off before there was a loud crash. Then everything went silent.

Oddly, it was difficult to reopen his eyes, but he managed with a great deal of willpower. He immediately saw that Gandalf was surrounded by collapsed goblins. Then he looked at the security guard and concierge, who were similarly knocked out.

"Have you killed them?" Thorin yelped.

"Of course not!" Gandalf denied defensively. "They are merely asleep."

Thorin saw now that people on the street had passed out as well, a few at the wheel but miraculously crashing without hurting themselves or others. Thorin gaped at Gandalf accusingly.

"How many people did you do this to?" he demanded. "And why wasn't I affected?"

Gandalf turned toward the lifts impatiently. "Your helm, of course. There is little that can penetrate it. I am unsure just how many people were put to sleep, but I wouldn't worry so. It's a relatively harmless spell, I assure you."

That didn't reassure Thorin at all, but there wasn't time for getting angry at Gandalf. "I doubt the spell managed to reach the upstairs," the wizard said. "We'd best hurry."

They quickly sprinted for the lifts and crammed in, awkwardly adjusting axe and staff so as to not hit each other. Then they pressed the button for the top floor. They had just made it past the sixth when they stopped and the doors popped open. Thorin quickly pressed for them to close again but nothing happened.

"Bugger," he said when a horde of Wargs appeared in the hallway.

"I suppose we'll take the stairs," said Gandalf, a bit sadly. He quickly left the lift, his staff held high, and bowled over the Wargs at the front of the pack. Thorin followed with his axe, striking down the second wave.

The last two were bigger than the others, and Thorin faced them warily as they stepped up and over the downed members of their pack. Then they transformed, and Thorin saw a true Warg for the first time.

They were massive, rather more the size of a bear than a wolf, and their jaws looked so powerful that Thorin was sure they could cut him in half with one bite. Their fur was a thick brown and a bit mangy, and their eyes were yellow-red.

As they prowled closer, Thorin raised his axe and wished he knew more about using it in combat, and just more about combat in general. So far he'd been holding his own, but these were also really big wolves.

He had no time for fear, however, because the Warg was coming for him, and he was suddenly using his axe to keep those teeth away from his throat.

The Warg snapped and spat, and then clawed down Thorin's side. He yelled out in pain, cursing as he used his upper body strength to shove the thing off of him. He felt something strain in his already injured arm when he did it, and seeing as the Warg had to be over three hundred pounds, it was no wonder his arm felt useless when he managed to get back on his feet. The Warg came for him again and he cried out in agony as he raised his axe and brought it down on its head.

There was no strength behind it, Thorin's arm was shot and his speed was dismal, but the moment it touched the Warg's head the axe seemed to sense its master's desperation and gathered its own power. It slammed into the Warg and drove its head straight into the ground, breaking apart the carpeted floor and leaving a Warg shaped hole. Its bum and legs stuck up a bit, and Thorin couldn't help but laugh a little.

He turned and helped Gandalf finish off the last one (nearly getting singed by one of the wizard's spells for his efforts) and by the time the pack had been defeated they were in pretty rough shape. Thorin panted, checking his bleeding side and moaning every time he moved his arm.

"Come, I can help with the pain," said Gandalf, motioning to him.

Thorin gazed at him skeptically, but handed over his arm for inspection anyway. It hurt too much not to. "You said you couldn't do subtle magics."

Gandalf sent him a disgruntled look. "You may be a bit giddy afterward, possibly even for a day or so, but you shan't be in so much pain. Now which is it? Yes or no?"

"Yes."

The wizard's spell did indeed make Thorin feel giddy, and also extremely refreshed. With a new energy he took his arm from Gandalf and hefted up his axe.

"Your arm is still injured, Thorin, so mind how you use it," Gandalf warned him, watching as Thorin tried the lift again. They made for the stairs when it refused to work.

They climbed as quickly as they could, the axe heavy and the miraculously unharmed guitar bumping against his back. He counted the seventh, eighth, and ninth floors before losing track. The penthouse was on the fifteenth, and to Thorin that seemed thousands of miles away.

It was on the thirteenth floor that something strange started to happen; there was an odd scraping and tapping noise, as if thousands of needles were falling onto metal. The unseen thing hissed like something slithering, and Thorin slowed in order to listen closer.

Then something came down the staircase. It was black and spindly, and made of what looked like tendrils of writhing vines that slowly inched toward Thorin and the wizard.

"Don't let them touch you!" cried Gandalf. "They are probably poisoned."

Thorin swallowed around a groan of frustration and began to hack away at the vines, but like a hydra, the more he cut the more they seemed to multiply.

"How exactly am I supposed to kill this thing?!" Thorin asked as the thorns continued to advance.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," Gandalf said unhelpfully.

Thorin continued to hack and slash, getting nowhere. "Can't you use light or something? Like from the movie?"

Gandalf's head shot up. "What movie?"

"Harry Potter!" Thorin yelled.

His expression grew thunderous. "That isn't real magic!" he snapped. "And I am not that Dumbledorf person!"

"Oh for god’s sake!" Thorin shouted in frustration.

He purposely recalled the sensation he had felt the first time he had used the axe – the moment when he'd called up the hot rock and flame – but this time he wished for searing light to accompany it.

The axe came down and flame spread out in a fan, electricity running ahead of it like foam on a wave. It crashed into the thorns and incinerated them, sending a strange sulfuric stink into the air.

Thorin coughed and looked around at Gandalf. "See?" he couldn't help but needle. "Are you a wizard or not?"

Gandalf scowled. "Yes, well, fire tends to work most of the time," the old man grumbled.

They ascended once more, climbing up to the fifteenth floor at long last, but wary of what they would meet there. The door to the stairwell swung open easy enough, and Thorin saw a long hallway before him. At the very end was a door made of textured glass.

Thorin and Gandalf walked toward it cautiously, the eerie silence of the hall a large difference to the chaotic noise of before. Thorin's ears were even ringing.

When he reached the end, he hesitated.

Despite his fear for Bilbo and the adrenaline coursing through him, he had to stop and take a deep breath before touching the handle. When he finally did it clicked open easily.

"This is absolutely a trap," Thorin hissed, looking around.

The room was painted a deep gold, with red neon lights lining the high ceiling. A large tube-like structure made of the same textured glass as the door sat in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

Thorin moved forward cautiously, peering around it. That's when he saw the opening, and that's when he saw Bilbo.

Thorin immediately ran to his side, calling his name. Bilbo was laid out on a gold colored bed, looking just the same as when Thorin had last seen him. His ugly yellow cardigan and maroon knit cap were slightly askew, but otherwise...he was completely unhurt.

And yet Bilbo would not wake.

"Bilbo? Bilbo?" Thorin shook him a little. "Bilbo, wake up."

"An enchanted sleep will not hold his power for long," Gandalf suddenly said. Thorin turned around quickly, spying the wizard looking at someone standing in the doorway.

"No, but it will keep him quiet," responded Smaug, and of course it was him.

Thorin stepped away from Bilbo, removing the guitar from his back and gently placing it on the floor beside the bed. He left the glass circle, creeping out until he caught sight of Smaug.

The dragon faced them calmly, his sharp gaze finding Thorin before flicking back to the wizard. He wore a fitted black suit, and his long, chiseled face, was as hard as stone. As usual, his full lips were turned up in a cruel smirk.

"You cannot take the power of the ring for yourself. It is lost to you now," Gandalf said, leaning on his staff.

"Then I'm sure I can...persuade him to work for me," Smaug replied, shrugging. "He's always been such a gullible little thing. So eager to please...."

Thorin's face grew hot with fury. "You'll have to kill us first," Thorin snarled. "He's a wizard, and I'm a king. How good do you think your chances are?"

Smaug raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"A king, are you?" he said silkily. "So quick to take up that honorable mantle, Detective Inspector! Could it be you enjoy the power that axe gives you? It feels good doesn't it? To destroy. To command. To be more than just human. What makes you so different from me?"

Thorin glared. "The biggest difference is that I don't do monologues," he replied, and raised the axe. To his satisfaction, he saw Smaug's eyes widen as the weapon came down, striking the floor with a boom.

The dragon was thrown off of his feet and into the door, which shattered on contact. Gandalf shot a bright, pulsing light from the end of his staff, and it slammed into Smaug, who screamed in pain. As Thorin advanced, he felt the hilt of the axe heat and looked down as sparks came off of its straight edge. It must have been hot enough to burn, but Thorin's hands remained unharmed.

Gandalf's spell ceased, the old man seeming to tire a bit, and Thorin stepped forward and slashed his axe across his body with one hand. The ground rumbled and turned to hot black stone, from which bright orange magma bubbled and hissed to the surface. He marveled for a moment at the magic it took to summon a veritable volcano in a penthouse flat, before he was distracted by the liquified floor. It had turned to lava, and Smaug was sinking into it with an ungodly screech.

And then those pained eyes focused on Thorin, and his porcelain skin began to change. Black vines, reminiscent of the thorny creature that had attacked them on the stairwell, crawled out of Smaug's eyes, which had turned the color of fire.

Then Gandalf stepped back. "Oh, dear," he said.

Thorin looked at him quizzically, not liking the sound of that, but he understood why the wizard was wary when the strange vines around Smaug's body began to pulse.

"You will burn," the dragon hissed, and then exploded into darkness.

Writhing clouds of pure black smoke flew up into the air, congealing to form a hulking, massive shape. The roof groaned and broke open, and Thorin tripped over his feet to get away from the falling debris.

Smaug the dragon, the actual dragon, came out of the smoke head first; his snake-like neck curving back as if he were stretching after a long time trapped somewhere small.

"Our little game ends here," Smaug rumbled, his voice was like thunder. "Now you die."

Thorin dove out of the way just in time as Smaug let loose a ball of fire. He moved quickly out of the dragon's reach, stumbling into the far wall, and too late realized that he was close to the sleeping Bilbo and probably putting him in terrible danger.

And yet Smaug did not attack. He eyed Bilbo as well, his head swaying from side to side in agitation, and Thorin understood that the dragon would not risk hurting the minstrel with his fire.

That did not stop his teeth, however, and then Thorin was moving again – this time away from the dragon's snapping jaws.

As he dodged and ducked, he heard Gandalf call out from above, and Thorin looked up and saw that the wizard had escaped up to the roof. He seemed to be chanting and slowly gathering light at the tip of his staff. Smaug narrowed his eyes at the wizard and slithered through the hole in the ceiling, completely distracted by the foreboding shine of the spell.

Thorin followed, nearly tripping over bits of plaster, and managed to pull himself up to the next floor with the help of some stacked debris. On the next level he immediately saw a stairwell to the roof, and he sprinted toward it and up to the outside. And just in time too – for Gandalf's spell had only made the dragon angrier.

The night was brisk and windy, and Thorin could see twinkling stars behind Smaug's red-scaled bulk. Gandalf glowed a bright white, and in solidarity the axe in Thorin's hand pulsed with heat. He watched as Smaug reared back, the scales on his chest beginning to ignite, and did something he had never done before. He held the axe securely by its hilt, reached back, and let it fly.

It was aimed straight for Smaug's chest, but the dragon had seen him prepare to throw it, and brought up his wing just in time. Miraculously, the axe did not bounce off of the armor-like scales, and instead sunk deep into his hide.

Smaug roared in pain and fury, clawing at the axe until it fell to the ground. Thorin watched it with despairing eyes, swallowing as the dragon angrily crouched and made ready to pounce.

Thorin had no choice but to run, but where to run to? He took off for the other side of the roof, listening as Gandalf shouted in some other language and the wind suddenly grew stronger. He had to find his weapon –

The floor cracked beneath his feet and collapsed, and Thorin's stomach dropped as he fell, his hands reaching out desperately for something to grab. He landed bum first on the next floor, which crumbled apart but thankfully slowed his fall, and before he knew it he was crashing back into Smaug's penthouse.

He groaned, feeling blood roll down his leg and side, and reached up to wipe the dust out of his nose. The ground shook as he crawled blindly toward the wall, frightened of falling again.

He heard the dragon roar and knew he should get up – he knew that the wizard needed his help – but his axe was gone and though his helm protected his head it didn't do much else. He took a second to catch his breath, riding out the pain from his injuries. He turned his head tiredly, looking around at the destruction, when his eyes caught sight of the large glass circle.

"Bilbo," he murmured, starting to panic. How had he forgotten about Bilbo? The room was trashed, the roof was falling down, and the dragon was crashing around and setting fire to everything and poor Bilbo was, was –

Completely fine.

"You lucky sod," he laughed, quickly moving to Bilbo's side. It must have been some magic spell that kept him from harm, for everything within the glass circle was relatively unscathed, though a bit dusty. Thorin put his hand over Bilbo's, feeling tired and sore. He needed to finish this, for Bilbo's sake.

And apparently Smaug agreed; the dragon crashed through what was left of the ceiling and braced his forelegs on the floor, the rest of his large body coiled on the roof.

"Thief!" rumbled Smaug. "You will take nothing from me! I laid low the warriors of old, and now you shall meet the same fate, o' Son of Durin!"

The dragon opened his jaws, showing off his terrible teeth, and Thorin looked around desperately for something, anything to use as a weapon.

His eyes found Bilbo's guitar.

He dove out of the way of Smaug's reach, wincing when he heard his huge jaw snap closed, and crawled quickly toward the instrument. Thorin picked the surprisingly heavy guitar up just in time, swinging it around to hold in front of him as Smaug thankfully bit into it instead of Thorin.

The guitar splintered and then broke apart, the wooden top separating from the whole, and Thorin felt bad for a second until he realized that there was nothing else to use to defend himself but the remains of the guitar. It wouldn't do much, but he grabbed the wooden top anyway and held onto it by the hole, using it to cover most of his arm and face as Smaug attacked, and this time with his skull.

And surprisingly, the top didn't break. Instead, the force of Smaug's head butt pushed Thorin back, his feet sliding along the ground until his heel caught on a chunk of concrete. He went down hard but forced himself to keep moving, to keep rolling away and to run, run, run to who knew where....

The axe.

He spotted it underneath a large piece of the fallen ceiling, and he ran full tilt for it. Smaug slithered after him, but Thorin was faster now, for there was at last an end in sight. He crashed into the wreckage and reached beneath it, feeling the hilt and wrapping his hand around it. Smaug took a breath.

The world was fire, but Thorin wasn't burning. He had thrust the guitar top and axe in front of him without thinking, and the flames crashed into the shield and axe and fanned out around him. Thorin knew then that this was his only chance; that his body simply could not take much more of this. So he closed his eyes and listened to the call.

The King beneath the mountains. 6

....began a voice not unlike Bilbo's. The dragon's deadly fire ran out, and Thorin brought his axe close to his lips. He said the next verse, this time.

The King of carven stone.

Smaug was preparing another strike, but Thorin knew what to do. Thorin was ready. He reached back with his axe in hand, feet staggered and spread apart.

The lord of silver fountains.

His whole body twisted forward, and with stunning accuracy, he threw the axe straight for Smaug's heart.

It met its mark.

...shall come into his own!

Smaug roared and writhed in pain, the axe lodged deep within his breast. From where the blade had punctured him, cracks soon appeared – Smaug's chest glowing as the axe worked its destructive magic. Then the great lizard bellowed one last time, and his body cracked like broken glass – and finally shattered.

Golden sparks burst from where the dragon once stood, and Thorin covered his eyes as they went every which way. When all was done and the room had fallen silent, he looked up cautiously...and saw that the dragon was gone. That Smaug had at last been defeated.

Out of breath and hurting worse than he ever had in his life, Thorin stood there in disbelief. A smile slowly spread across his face, and he couldn't help but laugh when he realized that the danger had passed, and that against all odds...he had survived.

Then he remembered Bilbo.

His breath caught and he spun around, seeing Bilbo there still fast asleep. Thorin stumbled over and leaned heavily against the bed, wondering if Bilbo should have woken by now. He heard grumbling and the sound of falling concrete as Gandalf jumped down from the floor above and back into the room.

"Why isn't he awake?" Thorin said, turning to glare at Gandalf.

Gandalf brushed off his robes and glared back. "How would I know? The enchantment should have ended. Perhaps if you give it a moment? So impatient!"

But Thorin was remembering something. It was a wild theory and unlikely to do much of anything, but all he could think of was leaning down and kissing Bilbo lightly on the lips. And so he did it.

It lasted only a few seconds, but it was the sweetest few seconds Thorin had ever known.

And then Bilbo's eyes fluttered open.

"Hmm?" he inquired, blinking the tiredness out of his eyes.

Thorin flinched backward, putting up empty hands in surrender should Bilbo be cross. But the man only yawned and peered at Thorin happily, looking for all the world like he had just woken from a rather pleasant siesta.

Then his smile vanished, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Hold on," he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Was that a kiss? Were you just kissing me right now?"

"No!" Thorin answered automatically, and then he winced again. "Yes. Sorry."

Bilbo stared at him for a moment before grinning slowly. "That's alright," he said cheerfully. "I'm just sorry I missed it. But where on earth am I? Was I asleep? Holy shit, what a mess! Ooh, wait – "

Bilbo leaned into Thorin's space excitedly. "Was that true love's first kiss?"

Gandalf, who had been shuffling around in the wreckage, threw them both an irritated look. "Of course not," he said crossly, kicking a piece of broken plasterboard away. "This isn't a fairytale!"

Bilbo made a face. "Spoilsport."

"Another gas leak! The world is just falling apart," said Bilbo, slapping down the front page of the newspaper. A picture of the ruins of Smaug's penthouse was on the cover, and Thorin couldn't help but shake his head. Had he truly been that oblivious once? How many gas leaks had really been gas leaks, anyway?

The morning after the battle with Smaug was horrid for both Gandalf and Thorin. Gandalf was still asleep, snoring away in Radagast's room, while Thorin had been up at the crack of dawn as always, unable to ignore his internal clock. His whole body protested any and all movement, but he'd made it to the loo and the kitchen well enough, and then couldn't find the energy to slouch back to bed after that.

Bilbo had taken the initiative and had made him some porridge and tea, and then happily hovered around him like a mother hen.

"At least no one was killed," Bilbo said thoughtfully, popping a piece of toast in his mouth. "You two got the worst of it. How's your arm by the way? Should I change your bandages?"

"In a bit," Thorin told him, smiling softly. "I'm glad you're alright, you know."

Bilbo nudged him with his shoulder playfully. "Me too! And thank you for saving me," he said. "I can't believe you defeated a dragon all by yourself! It's very cinematic!"

"Stupid more like," Thorin scoffed, taking a sip of his tea. "We nearly died multiple times. But it was worth it, in the end, to see you safe."

Bilbo looked at him for a moment, his expression terribly fond. Then he leaned over and kissed Thorin on the cheek.

"Finish your breakfast," he said, and got up to refill the kettle.

Thorin took a few more slow bites, his gritty eyes fixing on the axe and helm leaning casually against the wall. And next to it was the remains of Bilbo's guitar....

"Bilbo," he began, feeling positively wretched. "I'm so sorry about your guitar."

But Bilbo only smiled. "Oh that's alright!" He waved it off. "I can make another. I didn't much like using oak for it anyway. Too heavy...."

He cast a curious glance at the splintered pieces. "Made a great shield though," he added cheekily.

Thorin snorted. "That it did."

After he finished eating he let Bilbo pile gauze and sterile pads on the table, watching as the man bustled around the kitchen. He carried over a round bowl full of hot kettle water, and Thorin obligingly removed his shirt. Bilbo hissed in sympathy when he slowly removed the soiled bandages.

"Tell me if I hurt you," he said, and began to clean the wound.

Thorin's arm would need to be re-wrapped, as well as his leg, and he felt a bit guilty about enjoying Bilbo's ministrations, despite the pain it brought. He liked having Bilbo close, and he especially liked the coddling. Who knew Thorin was so fond of being fussed over? He couldn't help but gaze at the man affectionately as he worked.

"So, I don't mean to be that person," Bilbo began, his attention on Thorin's wound. "But someone has to say it: what now?"

Thorin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Smaug is gone, and half the hunstman in England are dead. All that's left are people like us. And we still don't have a leader."

Thorin looked away.

"Once word gets around that Smaug isn't in charge anymore, someone or something is going to rush to fill that void. I'm not saying it should be you – "

"But shouldn't it be me?" he interrupted, meeting Bilbo's eyes. "Aren't I...king now?"  

"Well, I didn't vote for you."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he said in amused disbelief.

Bilbo shrugged, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Couldn't help myself. But yeah. I guess you are king. King of...I don't know, a load of people with bizarre talents, probably. But hey, you know what? I think you'll make a splendid king for us. Best we've ever had."

"You haven't had any."

"Exactly!"

He shook his head at Bilbo, but he was smiling. "What about my life, Bilbo? I don't...want to leave it behind. I like my job. I worked hard to get where I am. But most of all I just still want to help people."

Bilbo bit his cheek and looked away thoughtfully. "Well, there's no reason you can't be a king and a cop."

"You're not serious," Thorin laughed, though he didn't find it funny.

"Why not? At least for now you can keep that part of your old life."  Bilbo secured the gauze around his chest and sat back with a sigh. "We've got lots of work to do before you're even considered a real king anyway."

Thorin nodded at the table. "That's right, whose to say the magicals will ever acknowledge the crown? Might be a lost cause."

"Not at all!" Bilbo wrapped a gentle arm around his shoulders, hugging him. "People talk, you know, and they'll be talking about this battle for a long time. 'King Thorin' they'll say, 'wielder of axe and broken guitar! A most excellent detective and surprise kisser!'"

Thorin groaned. "I'm never going to live that down."

"Aww, but it was true love!" said Bilbo, giggling. "You woke me from an enchanted sleep and now we're obligated to give it a go! In fact, we can just skip the courting and get right to the se – "

He cut Bilbo off with a kiss. Thorin had to live up to the legend, after all.

"Got one for you, detective," said the desk sergeant, poking his head into Thorin's office.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

Thorin pushed aside his paperwork and slipped on his blazer, walking idly toward the interrogation room. "What's this?" he asked Bofur.

"Lady come in asking for you," Bofur shrugged. "Said she wanted to speak to you alone."

Thorin sighed and nodded, taking the case file Bofur handed to him. He opened the door and slipped inside.

"Heard you wanted to talk to me," said Thorin, cutting to the chase. "What seems to be the problem?"

The red headed woman sitting at the table had an earnest look about her, and her green eyes were bright as she solemnly said, "I'd like to report a crime."

Thorin frowned. "Alright...?"

"It's to do with...one of ours."

His stomach swooped nervously, and he titled his head at her in confusion. "One...one of ours?" he repeated.

"Yes," said the woman. Then she eyed him speculatively. "You...you are King Thorin Oakenshield, aren't you?"

Thorin inhaled, mouth moving but nothing coming out.

"The detective?" she pressed.

He let out a long breath. King Thorin Oakenshield, he thought with an laugh. That was Bilbo all over. And...she had called him a king and a detective. She knew of him. Bilbo was right...word was spreading. 

And now it sounded like she needed his help.

He turned his attention back on the woman, who had been waiting very patiently.

"Yes..." Thorin said, smiling a little. "I suppose I am."

Notes:

(1) The Old Walking Song (original)


(2) derivative of “or so sworn, good or evil, an oath may not be broken, and it shall pursue oathkeeper and oathbreaker to the world’s end.”


(3) “Down the swift dark stream…” from The Hobbit


(4) literally what the legend says


(5) “Song of Durin” from The Fellowship of the Ring


(6) “The King Beneath the Mountain” from The Hobbit

[animewolfgamer]

Dangan Ronpa! Analyzing is Despair!: The big , the horse, and the famous(Finn and Darkedge’s Part 2)

BrushStroke breaks the long silence. “So, you’re saying that our culprit is Darkedge!?”

“That can't be right!” Toon bites his lip and pulls his hat down over his eyes. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised, but he should still be alive if that were the case!”

But he isn’t…

MasterCode scoffs at such a thought. “Well, that is the one hundred percent truth.”

“Ok…” Foxwell squints at him. O can see shivers running down his spine. “Then...does that mean Darkedge killed himself?”  

AnY growls, nodding his head quickly. “Don’t be stupid!” He raises his hoof, shaking it. “I know Darkedge is not that good at decision making, but I’m very certain he wouldn’t kill himself that easily.”  

Sapphire lets out a big sigh as she says, “Maybe he is too afraid to face the music once he gets caught.” Her eyes dart around, looking a bit unpleasant. “All of us are afraid of facing the music once the truth is exposed.”

I guess the loss of Finn must have really hit her hard.

“So…” Scriptless taps her forehead, with her Snake tail following suit. “Does that mean the trial is over?”

No...it's not. “Sorry to burst your bubble,” I say, “but there is a lot of things we need to go over.”

Cat looks down, letting out a long sigh. “I was hoping for this shit to end…”

Oh Cat…

“Ok,” Keyframe says as she grabs hold of her podium. “So if Darkedge murdered Finn, then it's safe to assume that Finn knew all the tasty info from the screenshots he received.”

Toon snickered, giving a cocky smile. “That chicken sure was in a bind there.”

“Yet it ended with him getting his skull fractured by a frying pan!” Brush smacks both of her hooves together, tightening her jaw. “I think it’s about time we start talking about how the rest of the murder played out!”

Oh yeah...we have been talking so much about the motive affecting Darkedge, we never bothered to put together how he ended up dead.

“Oh, this should be easy!” Toon cracks both of his hooves with a loud popping sound. “We know that he went inside and used every single bit of water from those bottles!”

MasterCode giggles. “You forget that he teleported there in the first place.”

“Kind of a waste if you ask me.” Cat bites her tongue, letting out a quick breath. “He could've just walked in, to be honest…”

“Ummm…” Keyframe scratches her mane. “Well, Cat, that would mean that he would be easy to find in the diner.”

Cat puckers her lips and nods her head. “True but it wasn’t that hard to figure out he was their.”

AnY nods. “Let’s not forget the pool of blood around where he teleported.”

“Wait a minute!” Brush suddenly grabs everypony’s attention. “That can’t be right!”

“Oh?” He tilts his head with a wide eye look

She raises her hooves up high. “What about the showers?!”

“Ummm...what?” Sapphire scratches her mane, with her jaw a bit open.

Foxwell speaks, with his eyes wide. “Oh...you mean when we heard the footsteps and shower!”

“But that can’t be right!” Toon raises his hoof, shaking it vigorously. “Darkedge clearly was in the dining establishment, as the evidence points to.”

Brush nods slowly. “You think water would clean those blood stains?”

Cat nods. “She does have a point.”

“Ok…” Scriptless’ snake tail scratches at her mane, “Then which is it?”

Darkedge used the water bottles, but the shower….

                                                Rift Debate!  

Shower window

Wet spot

Water Bottles

Soot

Frying pan

Kitchen Tool open spot

Foxwell: Brush…

Foxwell: Could be right, you know.

Toon Kritic: That is if she is right in the first place.  

Keyframe: Why would Darkedge walk straight from the hotel just to take a shower?

Keyframe: He can teleport there with no problem.

BrushStroke: But would water bottles really wash off all the blood?  

MasterCode: He will probably need a washing machine to do that.

Catavenger: But we saw him without any blood before, so…

Scriptless: Could be that his vest is mixed with the water.

AnY: Yeah, I got nothing to add here…

Darkedge had used up all those water bottles. In fact if teleporting is always an option…

                                  YOU GOT THAT WRONG!

Of course! That has to be the answer. “Brush, the showers weren't used by Darkedge at all!”

Toon snarks, tipping his hat at her. “Well, guess you got pwned by the normal everyday pony.”

BrushStroke crosses her hooves, puffing out her cheeks as she frowns.

Ok, then… “Ok, now it’s true that water bottles would not clean the blood, especially from clothes.” I pull out the ipad, which floats in front of me with a picture of the window. “But this window proves he wasn’t there.”

“What?” AnY, Toon, and Keyframe ask all at once as they tilt their head.

“Darkedge can use his magic to teleport there, but the window is open.”

MasterCode nods, giving a smirk. “I see where you’re going with this.”

Keyframe’s eyes shoot wide open as her jaw hits the floor. “Wait...you mean to say it was an escape route?”

I nod quickly. “That is why I don’t think Darkedge was at the shower.”

MasterCode pats himself on the back, giving me a bright and cheery smile. “Good job, Unova! This should clear up a lot things.”

I’ll be honest: his switch between his serious and cheery selves is starting to get my nerves.

Foxwell scratches his mane, his eyes darting around in a panic. “Then….who was there when Brush and I were having our fun time?”

“I think I’d rather not hear that…” Toon pulls his hat down, covering his face.

Keyframe rolls her eyes, shaking her head slowly. “Getting back on track, I believe what you might have heard of somepony else other than Darkedge.”

So it’s safe to assume that the killer went in to take a shower while Darkedge washed himself in the diner.

Scriptless held her breath, puffing up her chest before letting it all out. “Well, we know that the killer probably got covered in so much blood now.”

AnY nods. “True, but that doesn’t make sense, as Finn was killed by Darkedge, but Darkedge didn’t go to the shower, he went to the diner.” His grits his teeth.

“But it does show that maybe it wasn’t a unicorn who did this,” MasterCode says, ending with a soft chuckle.

Sapphire stares directly at him with a menacing glare. “You are really not making it any easy for us to consider that you’re innocent here.”  

He nods slowly, coughing off his left hoof before rubbing it down on his blue suit. “I could say the same thing to you, and it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.”

Her left eye twitches for a second. “Screw….You.”

AnY facehoofs, groaning his annoyance. “Ok, let’s just agree that it was not a unicorn and move on.”

Of course! “Also, to make sure that the criminal did use the window, there was a huge wet spot right next to the hotel on the first floor.”

Everybody’s faces turn sour.

Oh...that came out wrong. “Ok I mean it this way!” I pull out my ipad, showing off the evidence. “I noticed that there were multiple drops of water around where the culprit exited through the window.”

Toon giggles. “So, the culprit cleaned himself like a dog then.”

Keyframe rolls her eyes, waving her hoof back and forth. “Ok, so ignoring the bad joke, that would mean our culprit could be a Pegasus, right?” She scratches her mane, letting out a sigh of annoyance. “I’m starting to notice a pattern here.”

“Who knows?” AnY says as he rolls his eyes. “Maybe it could’ve been an earth-” He stops, noticing all the stares from everyone in the courtroom. “It seems I can’t make a joke, can I?”

Despite what we know so far, that does leave with one question. How did the culprit murder Darkedge?

“You're thinking of the same thing, aren't you?” He glares at me. It’s almost like he is interrogating me…

“Yeah...I think that Darkedge saw the killer head on.” It would make more sense now.

“Oh, so the killer, after taking a shower, headed straight to the diner!” Brush places both of her hoofs on her cheeks in shock.

“Wait a minute…” I think I get it now!

Keyframe gasps. “Wait, so that would mean Darkedge went in the alleyway to avoid the killer!”

“Woah, woah,” Toon pushes his hooves back and forth. “Wait. If that is true, then how did the killer manage to follow him in?”

“Let’s not forget that the air around that place is pretty hard to breathe.” The thought of the smell sends shivers down Cat’s spine.

Hmmm. “Maybe the killer used something to cover it’s mouth.”

“With what?” Sapphire scratches her mane with a wide eye look. “We didn’t find anything that could help the killer to walk that awful alleyway.”

AnY growls, gritting his teeth. “I get a feeling the killer got rid of that piece of evidence.”

No...maybe the killer didn’t. I need to think for a bit.

                                              G I F T S T O R E                                           I FIGURED IT OUT!

“The giftstore!”

Sapphire’s eyes widen. “The what?”

“More specifically, the museum!” My inner Attorney is running through me.

Foxwell tilts his head, scratching his mane. “The...what?”

“OH!” Brush’s eye widen, sparkling like shining stars. “I love that gift store! It’s where I bought all my Silver Quill and AnY plushies!”

A tear runs all the way down Sapphire’s cheek. “What about my plushies…”

Toon scoffs, crossing his hooves together. “Tell me about it.”

Oh, don’t feel sad. You at least got plushies… “However, they aren’t the only thing I saw in the store.” Yeah...I remember now. “Right at the front entrance, I saw handkerchiefs of Silver Quill’s beak.”

AnY’s face goes numb for a second. “Well...that is what I call serious merchandising.”

“Well, that is how the culprit was able to get through the alleyway.” If another unicorn were to enter it, then why would he need a handkerchief in the first place?

“Sorry to place a brick wall,” Toon interrupts as he tips his hat as he grits his teeth, “but it is impossible when their wasn’t any hoofprints at the crimescene.”

“OBJECTION!” MasterCode slammed both his hooves on the table, glaring down Toon with cold eyes. “You may not notice this, but me, Keyframe, and Unova found a single hoofprint right next to the body!”

“Well, if that is true, then how does a culprit not leave any trails if it's not a Unicorn?” Scriptless does make a good point.

Keyframe’s eyes close tightly, and she grits her teeth. “I think I know how the culprit did it…”

MasterCode giggles a bit. “I guess you’re not the only one who had the same thought.”

“WHAT!?” Fox shouts as his eyes widen.

Crap… “I really don’t want to say it ether, but…”

Brush looks at the three of us. Her face gives a twisted scowl as her eyes widen. “Umm, did I miss something here, or did you guys just say you know who it is?”

Toon steps in, stomping his hoof down with a cold look towards the three of us. “Tell us then! Let's see who is the one responsible!?”

All the evidence does lead to Darkedge killing Finn with his own sword. But the one who killed Darkedge….Saw the entire thing right thru her eyes…

I took a deep breath, saying the accusing words. “Sapphire….You saw the killer escaping, right?”

Sapphire rolls her eyes. “Yes, but I never managed to get a clear look at who it was.” She sighs, crossing her hooves.

I stay silent for a moment. Her reaction starts small, but it soon becomes big.

Her entire expression is soon taken over by fear. Her eyes shoot wide open, with her jaw slowly opening.

“HOLD ON!?” AnY shouts, jaw agape. “You're saying that Sapphire is the one who murder Darkedge!?”

Cat loses her breath for a moment. “Sapphire?”

Sapphire shakes her head, taking a deep calm breath. “Unova...I know you are as desperate as as everyone in this court, but let me make this clear…” She pauses, looking as professional as she can. “Darkedge may have his fair share of problems, but I of all ponies should understand him the most.”  

“Yeah…” Toon turns his head, nodding slowly.

After a quick breath, Sapphire puts on the most bizarre yet calm face I have seen. “Ok...why would you think I would be responsible for his death?”

“Well…” Give it your all, Unova. “You already know that I have a bit of a problem with your testimony.”

“Could you explain that, please?” Sapphire grits her teeth, keeping a mature face. “I am having a hard time following your logic there.”

I hate to piss her off, but… “Well for one, you’re the only one who saw the killer escaping.”

“Oh yeah…” Keyframe’s eyes directly aim at Sapphire. “When you put it that way, no other pony was their to confirm her story.”

AnY scratches his mane, letting out a sigh. “Sounds like she could twist the story, making that the pure truth.”

For a split second, Sapphire’s face goes completely numb. “I’m not lying, that is the truth! I saw the killer escaping!”

I nod. “That I agree with.”

Toon turns his head towards me, giving me a wide-eyed look. “Then...why did you make the claim that she is lying!?”

“Because she wasn’t lying at first!” It’s not that simple. “She did see the killer, but what she left out is the killer’s identity.”

“Darkedge…” Scriptless gasps, looking down.

Toon growls, “Oh, now I see where this is going!” His eyes point straight at Sapphire, looking a bit creeped out. “So you saw the whole thing, but pretended you saw the aftermath only.”

“Wait!” Catavenger intervenes. “Could there be a chance that she was too scared to remember?”

“Sorry, Cat, that isn’t possible, because this also covers Brushstroke’s testimony as well.”

Brush’s eyes widen. “SAPPHIRE WAS THE ONE THERE?!?”

Sapphire sticks her tongue out in disgust. “Why the hell would I want to hear or see you two making love juice!”

Foxwell’s cheeks turn pink, his tail twirling anxiously. “I...think we made something more then love juice…”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” Toon points at him fiercely, his eyes and mouth wide open.

Yes please! Let’s not go there. “Anyway, the killer used the shower for a reason, right?”

MasterCode smirks, giggling with a softer tone. “So you’re saying that the killer had Finn’s blood on her, right?”

You read my mind, man. “This leads me to believe that Sapphire couldn’t accept Finn’s passing, which I don’t blame her for.” Sadness begins to take over. “I didn’t want to accept that as well.”

Sapphire’s eyes begin to twitch uncontrollably. Her teeth grit, holding back any words.

“You know,” MasterCode’s smile became a little too comforting for this situation. “It also explains the window and the wet spot.”

“But there's one thing I don’t get,” AnY says, then pauses before continuing. “If all that is true, why isn’t their any blood trail then?”

He scratches his hoof right on his suit, giving a smug look. “She probably wiped off all the dripping blood to prevent that.”  

“Ok…” Sapphire glares at him with a burning passion. “That is a very long stretch to try pinning the blame on me!”

Toon snickers, tipping his hat. “Getting a little panicky there, Sapphire?”

For a split second, something breaks inside of her. “SHUT….THE FUCK...UP!”

“Sapphire…” Scriptless shivers at the sudden outburst.

“HEY!” Keyframe stands ups, looking down at her. “Let’s not make this worse for you or anyone else.”

Oh Sapphire…

                                                 Rift Debate  

Fully readied book

Wet spot

Bloodhoof print

Frying pan

Skull fracture

Sapphire: All of you won’t even bother listening to me!?

ToonKritic: The evidence could be the reason why.

Sapphire: Like I have any reason to kill Darkedge!

AnY: Looking at the methods…

AnY: It wouldn’t make any sense for a Unicorn to just jump out of the shower window.  

Keyframe: Sapphire…

Keyframe: I really want to believe you’re innocent, but…

MasterCode: Now it’s time to pull out your trump card!  

Sapphire: Even if I killed Darkedge…

Sapphire: There is nothing to pinpoint me being around him in that damn Alleyway!

Foxwell: Well…

Foxwell: I got nothing on that.

BrushStroke: Well, you tried honey.

ToonKritic: Really….

Sapphire...you just put yourself in a corner there.

                                 YOU GOT THAT WRONG!

I take a deep breath, nodding my head. “Sapphire….MasterCode, Keyframe, and I found a dry bloody hoofprint.”

Sapphire’s entire body shivers out of control. “Ok...what does that have to do with anything?”

“There was blood around the table where Darkedge teleported to.” MasterCode gives her a wide-eyed look, appearing more intimidating than before. “Your blind anger kept you from noticing when you grabbed the murder weapon.”

Keyframe growls, “Sapphire….I’m really sorry”

Silence started to take over. All of us stand in place, letting our minds wander.

But something unexpected happens...Sapphire laughs. “So….that is it huh?” Her smile barely holds together. “All of you are just gonna sit and accuse me of killing the poor chicken?”

“Sapphire…” I...I really am…

“FUCK ALL OF YOU!” A sudden burst of her voice rises to a great degree.  

Everyone steps back, dropping their jaws as all of us gasp.

“Sapphire…” The look on Cat’s face. I’ve never seen her this scared before.

“DO YOU EVER THINK THAT MAYBE THAT HOOFPRINT COULD BE MADE BY ANYONE OTHER THAN A PEGASUS?!?” For a split second, her eyes look bloodshot. She pauses as she takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry...I really didn’t meant to shout.”

I really don’t want to drag this out. It’s time to put this into place!

                               Culprit last stand: Sapphire

Sapphire: Despite what the evidence has shown, I would never kill him!

Catavenger: A part of me wants to believe you.

Sapphire: Then believe me!

ToonKritic: Lying is not going to help you out of this.

Sapphire: But I’m not fucking lying!

Keyframe: Your sudden outburst of emotion doesn’t help your case.

Sapphire: Getting everyone killed and letting the killer live is not the way I want to go out!

MasterCode: Kinda funny that the last two outbursts are similar to this.

Sapphire: Shut the fuck up, Mastercode!

BrushStroke: I think you need a cookie…

Sapphire: How would that help!?

Foxwell: Its chocolate chip…

Sapphire: Don’t add on that!

Scriptless: Sapphire...Please stop…

Sapphire: ….Then all of you should stop.

AnY: Ugh…

                                                    Final Stand

Sapphire: Stop using that hoofprint as your only piece of evidence against me!    

                                       IT’S OVER SAPPHIRE!

Sapphire paused. Her eyes looked at me as it twitches uncontrollably.

“Sapphire...that wasn’t the only evidence I found.” It’s time to pull out my trump card. “This white feather is found next to the body.”

Her voice dropped at a fast rate. Nothing but silence despite her body movements going at a fast pace.

Toon gracefully tipped his hat, “How very unfortunate.”

Scriptless turned her head away, unable to bear the events unfolding.

I guess it's time for the most painful part of this trial...  

                                THIS IS HOW IT HAPPENED!

Act 1

Let’s start at the very beginning with the first Killer. Darkedge quickly finds the book, which sets our motive. At first, he probably doesn’t think much of it. At least until Manga Kamen enters the scene. Darkedge probably didn’t knew that finishing the book about him, gets him a prize. As he receive the prize envelope, his jaw drop at the look of those screen shots. Suddenly, anger begins to take over.

Act 2

As morning comes in, Darkedge must of head out without anyone knowing. Grabbing a book that looks as similar as his, tricked all of us into thinking he had the book with him. None of us was able to pick up his behavior. If it we had, we should’ve known when he was around his soon to be victim. After the books are buried in the alley way. Darkedge decided to talk to Finn alone.

Act 3

As the two stand right on the crime scene, Darkedge begins to question Finn about the screenshots he received. Unfortunately, it didn’t end well. As Finn turn his back on him, Darkedge grabs the swords out of his backpack. Shocked, Finn faces Darkedge. Unfortunately his life has ended with a single Stab right in between the stomach and chest area. It was at this point, Darkedge knew what he did. He panicked, teleporting out of the crime scene. Unfortunately he didn’t knew that somepony saw the entire thing.

Act 4

The killer could barely stomach what it saw. Stepping right into the blood, the killer emotion went to an uncontrollable rage. Even then, the killer knew that leaving a trail would be the last thing to do. Wiping off all the dripping blood, The killer went to the third floor shower room, wiping off all the blood soaked within its fur. However, during the killer’s me time, BrushStroke and Foxwell heard the water running. The two quickly head off to investigate but before they could catch the killer, it escape threw the shower window. Landing safely, the killer shaken off all the water and headed straight to the diner.    

Act 5

As Darkedge shower himself with water bottles, The killer passes by him. With a frying pan within its grasp, Darkedge quickly bolted there like a chicken who lost his head. This is where Keyframe and the other’s caught him on sight before teleporting them away from the Alleyway. Darkedge must of covered his nose with a vest as he couldn’t concentrate with the fear within him. Unfortunately for him, the killer had an alternative. Going deeper in the Alleyway, Darkedge thought the worst was over. Unfortunately...it was the last time he stand on all four legs. The Killer dropped the pan on his head, leaving the area. Unfortunately the killer made a mistake to not even check if any evidence was left behind. It was at this point, the killer waited right next to the hotel before the rest of us came across the first crime scene.

               Unfortunately...It didn’t work as one planned it to be...              

                                       Sapphire...You lost.

A spring of emotions came by. Sad, frustrated, anger, fighting, etc. Her head sunk down, letting out a long sigh of frustration.

“Sapphire…” It’s like I can almost feel the pain she is suffering right now.

Toon turned her back on her, “Well then…”

A soft chuckle came out of MasterCode. As he straightened his suit, he nodded. “Looks like the results came in quite nicely.”

Everypony else just stood there. From the look of their faces, they’re less than happy about it.    

“ALRIGHT!” Kamen Jumps up with joy, “You know what to do my little ponies!”

I press the button as quickly as possible. The slot machine appears right in the middle of courtroom. In a few seconds, the three slots show’s Sapphire’s face as the fake Crowd cheered.  

Congratulations Sapphire! You are guilty for the murder of Finn and Darkedge!

[sparklywitchmoment]

Hell and Silence || Chapter Four

MASTERLIST

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking

Word Count: 5,327

A/N: The Silos in this chapter are based off what we have in my hometown of Chicago, the Damen Silos. It’s a pretty cool place for photography and just all around awesomeness. If you want to know what they look like, google them- they got partially blown up for one of the transformers movies though.

Chapter One     Chapter Two     Chapter Three     

CHAPTER FOUR

VANESSA

The next day back at school, I was (noticeably to my best friends) shaken up. Allison brought me home early yesterday in hopes of relieving some of my recent stress, but it just made it a thousand times worse. I don’t know how I managed to tear myself away from Derek’s kiss, because as soon as we disconnected, I wanted to dive right back in. My entire being melted into those glimmering green eyes of his, and just the mere touch of his hand had me shaking. Even when Isaac came home at the end of the school day, I couldn’t get my mind away from Derek.

“Babe, you alright? Ally told me she brought you home early. And you...” He started to say, taking a big whiff of the air in my room. “You smell weird.” I sat up, propping myself on my elbow and tried to play off the scent I knew was Derek’s. I must have reeked of it.

“Must be the new soap I got. Something with beeswax in it, I think- and I was just feeling a little sick at school.” I smiled, running my hand down his arm affectionately, not feeling even the slightest spark. I quickly pulled my hand away, plastering a fake smile across my face. I’ve become very good at keeping my heartbeat steady when it came to lying- especially with Isaac. What’s a relationship if you don’t tell a few white lies here and there? I certainly appreciate the fact that he has also learned to keep his heartbeat steady when I ask him how I look in a dress, because if I found out he was lying about me looking good, he’d have his throat taken out.

“I would imagine so- that full moon took a lot out of you.” He said, sliding off his bag and laying down next to me. I smiled down at him, running my fingers through his mess of dirty blonde curls- something I normally loved to do but now felt nothing towards. God, I hate this.

Back at school the next day, Isaac kissed me goodbye on his way to first period per the usual, dropping me off with Allison and Lydia. The second I came into their eyesight, I could tell they knew something was wrong. Once Isaac was lost in the mob of students, the interrogation began.

“Is it just me, or do you look sad?” Lydia questioned, tilting her head. “Well, more than usual.” I just groaned, turning to lean against the lockers. Allison hit Lydia’s arm, silently scolding her. Ally knew the kind of stress I was under right now, and Lydia didn’t. I couldn’t keep her in the dark forever, but I can until I know myself what the hell is going on.

“Not sad, just stressed.” I sighed, looking at the two of them. “Anything new going on?”

Allison took a deep breath, looking down at her hands. “Lacey Moore’s official autopsy was released… including the part about her brain being sucked out of her skull- people are spooked.”

Lydia, nodding and pursing her lips. “There’s even another police issued curfew going into effect- like that’ll work.” She said, an amused tone in her voice.

“It’s police issued, so why wouldn’t it?”

“Because there’s going to be a giant party down at the Silos.” Lydia said matter-of-factly, rolling her eyes- almost like she was waiting for Allison and I to have an epiphanic realization. “Last weekend everyone was too shaken to throw a party, but the boys are going to the championships for the first time since we’ve been at Beacon Hills. The entire school is going to the Silos for some professionally-thrown party- how didn’t you hear about this? Your boyfriends,” She gestured to the both of us. “Are on the team, and your brother, Vanessa. Have you fallen that far off the radar?”

Oh, god. A party at the Silos with a killer on the loose- sounds like the beginning to every cheesy horror movie. 

On the outskirts of Beacon Hills, there are a few abandoned Silos that most kids use as hangouts and spray paint tag murals. Every now and then, you get the occasional party, but not often. How the hell didn’t I know about it, is the real question.

“We’re going to keep an eye out, right?” Allison asked, earning an eye roll from Lydia.

“No, Snow White- we’re going because it’s going to be the biggest party of the year. Not everything is about saving the world, you know? Plus, if someone’s going to die, I’ll feel it.” She said, tapping her temple with her index finger.

“Not if it gets you first, you won’t.” A chilling voice came from behind me, making me nearly jump out of my skin. God, I hate not being as strong as the rest of the pack. I’m practically human, except for the glowing eyes and going out of control on full moons. I whipped my head around and saw Erica and Boyd standing behind me, arms crossed. The sight of Boyd alone was enough to make me cower to the far corners of the world, especially when he has that menacing look on his face- like the one he has right now. Lydia huffed, stepping in front of me.

“Oh, cool it Erica. We all know if you were actually a threat, you would come out from behind that mountainous hunk of yours and live out of his shadow for once in your life. But you don’t, do you?” She spat at Erica, who seemed to shrink back behind Boyd with every word Lydia shot her way. Lydia knows no fear, and that big mouth is going to get her into serious trouble one day- add it to the already towering list, I guess.

“Fuckin’ banshee bitch… Let’s go Boyd.” Erica huffed, linking her arm with the giant in front of her, leading him back down the other end of the hall. Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder, and turned back around to face Allison and I who stood stunned.

“What?” She crossed her arms, adjusting the bag on her shoulder before walking in between Allison and I, down the hall. “She had it coming.” As her heels clicked down the hall, Allison and I chased after her.

“Erica’s gonna claw your eyes out one of these days, Lyds.” Ally warned, linking their arms. She just scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“I’d like to see the bitch try.”

DEREK

“A party?” Peter set down his Sports Illustrated, raising his eyebrow at me. “At the Silos? Derek, I may look youthful, but my body isn’t what it used to be; and frankly, neither is yours. So remind me again, why the hell are we going to a high school rager?”

I rolled my eyes. “Scott says he needs our help keeping everyone safe. Not that you’ll be much help at all…” I said, grabbing my old leather jacket from behind my arm chair- my favorite arm chair that I never get to sit in anymore because Peter hogs it- pulling it on.

“You sure it’s not just an excuse for you to go seduce your beta’s girlfriend?” Peter said under his breath, making me turn my head so fast, it felt like I got whiplash. I only took one step before I was in front of him, hand wrapped around his throat.

“If you ever say shit about that to anyone, I’ll personally assure that you’re never able to say anything ever again.”

Peter quivered under my grasp, his once cocky eyes filled with terror. I let him go, watching him fall to his knees onto the wooden floors. Peter’s always making idiotic comments, always threatening to release some of my dark secrets to the world but he never does- not if he knows what’s good for him. Especially with this Vanessa thing going around, there’s no way he’d ever have the balls to say shit about it.

I walked out of the loft, not bothering to wait for Peter. He didn’t want to come, so he would just whining the whole time, and I can’t deal with his childish antics right now. He was right about one thing, though. I kind of was using this an excuse to seamlessly get close to Vanessa. She may not know I’m her Alpha, but I can tell from the minute I meet up with Scott’s pack at the Silos that her eyes are glued to me, waiting for my command. She doesn’t even have to say anything for me to know- when you’re an Alpha for a while, it’s just a feeling you pick up.

“Earth to Vanessa? You still with us?” Stiles waved at his sister midway through explaining the plan for tonight, snapping her eyes away from me. She nodded her head, giving a reassuring smile.

“I’m here, I’m paying attention.”

“Good.” Stiles said, shifting his focus back to the plan. “So we’ll spread out around the Silos- werewolves, if you smell anything funny, go after it. We aren’t taking any chances with this thing, alright? We don’t know how it works and how quick it strikes.”

“Well we all know the little forgotten beta won’t be much help in that department…” Erica chimed in, interrupting Stiles and making him shoot an annoyed glare at her. How could Vanessa not help with that? She’s a werewolf- one of my beta’s. She should be strong, maybe even stronger because I didn’t train her. God knows that I’m a shitty Alpha...

“Shut up, Erica.” Vanessa hissed, flashing her glowing yellow iris’.

“Wait, what does she mean by ‘not much help’?” I asked, directing my question at Scott who I knew would be the most willing to answer. He just sighed, glancing at Vanessa whose head was down.

“Vinny’s Alpha abandoned her after she was turned. I had to train her, so she’s not nearly as strong as the rest of us. She’s-”

“She’s practically human.” Erica interrupted once again, earning her a hushed symphony of shushes and “shut up’s” from the rest of the pack, but I just felt my blood go cold.

“Alright, can we get back to the plan now?” Stiles said rather loud, grabbing everyone’s attention but mine. That’s not what was supposed to happen when I left her on Scott’s doorstep- she was supposed to thrive with a different Alpha. Then again, maybe I should have asked the emissary about what would happen before I got the hell out of dodge. I guess I just didn’t think it would be this bad… But practically human?

Stiles finished explaining the plan that I only vaguely understood, just in time before people started arriving at the Silos. First, there was a few kids- each of them rolling in a keg of beer with a few packages of solo cups on top. Scott, Stiles, and Isaac went off to talk with their teammates as they arrived, Erica and Boyd were off together doing god-knows-what, and Vanessa, Lydia, and Allison were nowhere to be seen. More and more people arrived, causing more and more whispers to erupt from people as they saw me. It’s not everyday teenagers see one of the sole survivors of their towns arson horror story. I didn’t even have to do anything to draw attention to myself, so I probably wasn’t the best choice to go undercover with tonight.

Just as the sky started to get dark, Vanessa, Lydia, and Allison came back to the party, going to find their boyfriends (or in Lydia and Stiles case, couple-in-denial). I watched as Vanessa ran her hands down Isaac’s chest, leaning into him as their eyes locked. He was grinning down at her, wrapping his arms around her neck because she’s too short for him to reach her waist without bending down. Within seconds Vanessa was pushing herself onto her toes, bringing her lips up and attaching them to Isaac’s.

I shook my head, looking away from the two, trying to suppress any jealousy I was feeling. They’re a couple- they have been for almost two years. Plus, it’s not like she’s just anyone's girlfriend; she’s Isaac’s. Isaac is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother and he’d be livid if he so much caught a glimpse of the thoughts I’ve been having. I mentally hit myself for thinking it, but I couldn’t help letting my thoughts travel back to the night I kissed her. The way her lips fit perfectly with mine, hips rolling in a slow motion. Ever since then my body has been screaming for her- but she’s still just a kid. The sheriff's daughter, nonetheless. So for now, I fantasize. Something with her could never work; especially because I’m poison to women. I kill those who get close to me, or worse. I abandon them- though it seems I’m already very good at that.

VANESSA

I could feel Derek’s eyes on me from miles away- he’s not exactly good at being stealthy. I tried my best to keep my focus on Isaac whose hands were slowly working their way south of the equator, and it took all my will power not to squirm away. Luckily the music and talking teenagers was loud- loud enough to keep Isaac from hearing my heartbeat skyrocket when I glanced at Derek.

The music changed, and Allison let out a fit of giggles. “This is my favorite song! Let’s dance.” She said, grabbing her boyfriends hand and dragging him out into the mob of teenagers. I’m not sure how Allison could recognize this as any type of song, considering it’s just a mash-up of different techno noises, but that’s her business. Lydia grabbed Stiles hand, and Stiles grabbed mine. Before I knew it the six of us were breathing heavily, swaying our hips to the beat of some EDM song. I still couldn’t believe someone hired an actual DJ to work at this thing- it’s just a party. Then again, some people just need to be so damn extra, don’t they? I couldn’t see the other four that got dragged onto the floor anymore- they’d somehow lost themselves in the mob. Isaac’s hands were on my waist, pulling me as close to him and his crotch as he possibly could, which only made me slightly uncomfortable. I could feel a growing hard on press against my back as we continued to dance.

“Babe!” I heard Isaac shout into my ear as he turned me around to face him. His eyes were glowing yellow, now holding me closer to him than I thought was possible. I think I may have let him have one too many beers from the keg, because this wasn’t very Isaac at all. Then again, I had to deal with it if I wanted any shot at trying to restore my attraction towards this mop-haired mess. That said, I got onto my tippy toes, pushing myself up to kiss Isaac in hopes to get him to calm down. Of course, that only made the problem worse.

His hand went to massage my boob, gripping it roughly and causing me to let out an involuntary moan into his mouth. Isaac slipped his tongue past my lips, massaging my tongue with his. Now I knew he was somewhat tipsy because I could taste the booze on his mouth. I continued to let him kiss and grope at me, but when he started to slide his hand down my waist and undo the button of my jeans, I pushed him back a little.

“Isaac, what the hell?” I growled at him, making his once warm features turn to panic.

“Relax, Vanessa- nobody will see.” He cooed at me, reaching for my arm and pulling me back against him. Before I could even push myself off again, his hands were back fumbling with my zipper, fingers slipping past the hem of my panties. I pushed him away, making sure to flash my angry yellow eyes at him before making myself disappear into the crowd. I wove my way through the mass of people dancing and grinding on each other, finally making it out the other end and into the clearing.

There were a few other people talking and making out on the outskirts of the mob, but not many. I started to make my way to one of the many kegs spread out around the Silos. Taking a red solo cup off the top, I filled it up and took a sip, almost spitting the drink out as soon as it hit my tongue. All the alcohol consumption I do is basically just sweet Pinot Noir from Lydia’s mom's stash in their cellar or cheap drugstore wine coolers; I’ll never get used to how bitter and disgusting keg beer is, but I need something to help take the edge off- and that’s just what the beer seemed to do. One gulp of the foul liquid down, and I could already feel my body start to buzz. Maybe it’s because I’m a lightweight, but damn, that shit works fast. Good thing I’ve already made my way through enough drinks tonight to feel somewhat numb to the taste, because it truly is awful. I took another sip of the drink before looking around for anyone I know. Allison, Scott, Lydia, and Stiles were probably still in the crowd, and I didn’t need Isaac to try and shove his hands down my pants again. Over in the corner, I spotted a familiar distressed leather jacket covering a pair of broad shoulders- Derek.

Of course, the one person I was trying to avoid tonight is the only option I have for some sort of entertainment. I’m supposed to be trying to rekindle my love for Isaac, but that’s unimaginably hard when I can feel the Alpha’s eyes tearing into me. I looked around once more to see if their was any other people that I could go to instead of Derek, but the only people on the outskirts were people I didn’t know, and me being the socially awkward spaz I am, had no interest in introducing myself. I’d even be willing to hang out with Erica if it meant avoiding Derek, but she was nowhere to be seen either; actually, she and Boyd had been MIA all night. So I groaned, rolling my eyes and accepting my fate.

“Derek!” I called out, waving my cup in the air. His head jerked in my direction, features going hard as he saw me. As I trotted up to him, I could hear his heartbeat faintly in my ear starting to rise. He crossed his arms as I stepped in front of him, cheesy grin stretched across my face. God, the beer is starting to get to my head.

“How drunk are you?” He said coldly, but I kept smiling.

“Not enough. Can’t I just want to hang out with my favorite Beacon Hills alpha without being drunk?”

He paused for a minute, eyebrows turning to a deep furrow. “You can’t find your friends, can you?” My smiled faded as I watched him raise his eyebrow accusingly. Shit, I’ve been caught. He must have seen the look on my face fall because I was about to say something to defend myself when Derek held out his hand. “Save it, I don’t care. I’m going to go check the perimeter, you’re welcome join me.” He started to walk away, taking long strides that my tipsy ass had a hard time keeping up with. I felt kind of pathetic following him like this, but I honestly couldn’t stop myself. He’s honey and I’m a tiny, weak-willed bee.

Something I’ve noticed about Derek that hasn’t changed since I first met him at the beginning of sophomore year to now, is that he’s not much of a talker. He tends to use the least amount of words possible when speaking, if he says anything at all- sometimes he’ll just communicate through various grunts.

We walked in silence for a little while, me taking occasional drinks from the cup in my hand only adding to my buzz, him quietly surveying the land around us. Well, I pretended like I was. All I could really do was look around and hope I didn’t miss anything and make myself look like an idiot. To my surprise though, Derek was the first to break our unending silence.

“So… How’ve you been?” I was not only shocked that he was speaking, but that he was asking a personal question. “Last time I saw you, it was… uh…”

“Was a mistake...” I slurred, knowing perfectly well I didn’t mean it and taking down another gulp up beer. God, the alcohol is really getting to me. “I was havin’ a bad day, and things’ve been weird with Isaac… But I’m working on fixing it. Rekindling the romance, you know?” I looked down at a rock in front of my feet, kicking it around in effort to avoid eye contact with Derek and taking another drink.

“Rekindling’s a funny word for him having his hands down your pants in the middle of a party…” Derek said, slamming his hand onto the conveniently placed pole in front of us, trapping me and my buzzed mind between his broad shoulders.

“Whoooa there, Sourwolf- don’t get pissy with me.” I wagged my finger right in his face, causing him to look at me with his hungry, glowing, red eyes. A low growl coming from his throat was enough to make me lose any confidence I had and shrink back into the wall. Then again, those glowing eyes made me want to melt back into him… before I could even fathom my movements, my hand had snaked its way around his waist and our faces were mere inches apart. Now it was Derek who had lost his confidence and face turned from dark to confused. “Whas up with you, Mr. dark and moody?”

He looked me in the eye, then looked down to the red solo cup in my hand. “Vanessa, what are you drinking?”

I shrugged, looking down into my cup. “Dunno; think it’s just keg beer but-” When I began to lift the cup back to my lips and take another drink, Derek’s hand came up faster than my mind could register and knocked it out of my hands, letting the disgusting drink clash and splatter against the cement ground. “What the fuck?” I said after a few seconds of staring at my now involuntarily discarded drink.

“You’re not drunk, Vanessa- you’ve been poisoned.” Derek said before throwing himself into the crowd of sweaty teenagers- my dumb, half drunk (poisoned, rather) ass following him.

“Hold on, did you say poisoned?” I tried to shout, but I couldn’t even hear my own voice anymore. The loud music and bass was vibrating in my chest, my wolf ears feeling like they were going to implode on themselves. I quickly reached for his arm, grabbing it to keep myself from getting lost in the sea of people, though it didn’t do much. I was still being tossed left and right by flying hands and sweaty bodies. I’m not sure what Derek’s trying to accomplish by threatening both our lives in this living, breathing, pit of people- maybe he’s hoping he’ll find part of the pack? He seemed surprised when we emerged at the other end of the mob without any pack members in hand, though I could have told them that was going to happen.

“You’re not going to find them!” I tried to shout again, but in a very Derek-like fashion, he ignored me and continued to pace around the Silos. It wasn’t until he started to yank me around with him that I realized my grip was still tight around his arm, feeling a sort of emptiness when I pulled myself away. Derek must have felt it too because as soon as our touch disconnected, he stopped pacing, eyes glazing over at mine.

“I have an idea.” He said, pace picking up again, this time charging right for the DJ booth, shouting back at me before he reached out of earshot. “Stay there!”

Of course, me, with “poison” running through my veins, decided not to listen to Derek and followed him. God, I really wish I had listened because I hadn’t even gotten halfway to where Derek was and I felt like my ears were bleeding. The excruciating music and base was enough to make me want to scream, and Derek just kept getting closer to it. I reached up to touch my ears, holding my hands out to see that now my ears were not just metaphorically bleeding, but actually breathing- and my fingernails had turned into claws. A heat was building in my head as my eyes started to glow, canines digging into my bottom lip as I tried to suppress them, but even then, I still tried to follow Derek. Eventually the loud noise just turned into a high-pitched ringing through my skull and I couldn’t take it anymore. My knees buckled out from under me, causing me to fall face first onto the dirty cement covered ground. The pain in my head- all over my body really- was so immense, so much worse than when I turned the last full moon. At least for that I had managed to knock myself out, but now I’m completely lucid, even with poison in my system.

My hands went to cover my ears, trying to block out any and all sound, but before I knew what was happening, the sound was gone. I opened my eyes and the colored lights had been replaced by blinding white ones- but before I could process anything else, my vision went spotty, then black, leaving my limp body vulnerable to the darkness.

DEREK

I could feel Vanessa following me, even after I specifically told her not to. You’d think that even though she doesn’t know I’m her Alpha, she would still know how to follow orders from one. When I rushed the DJ booth, the sound almost killed my ears; I tried to focus on drowning it out with the noise of my own thoughts, but that didn’t work nearly as well as I wished it would. Once I got to the front- much to the discontent and resistance of a few raving kids- I had to deal with the DJ. He tried tirelessly to push me off his makeshift stage as I searched for some sort of master power switch to turn the damn stuff off.

“Bro, what the hell’re you doing?” He yelled, pushing me back a bit. I just looked at him for a second, raising my eyebrow; It’s clear he has no idea who the hell he just touched. I shoved him off his stage and into the crowd with little to no effort at all- it was like moving a pillow to me. Ignoring the screaming, bouncing teenagers, I continued my search for the power button. Searching the DJ grid was like trying to solve the world’s hardest puzzle, with buttons and switches everywhere. My eyes trailed to a thick orange extension cord sticking out the bottom of the setup. I followed it under my feet, across and off the stage to a rather large humming generator a few yards from the stage.

Well, I thought to myself, It’s better than nothing, as I leaped off the stage, my ears still practically bleeding, rushing to the generator. Fortunately, unlike the DJ setup, the generator had a bold red switch clearly labeled power- obvious enough. I pressed the red button, and within a matter of mere milliseconds, everything shut down, relieving me from the personal hell of unbearable sensory overload, plunging the room into darkness. After a few seconds of that pure, blissful darkness, white lights- emergency lights, I guess- came on, blinding the crowd and making the teenage mob groan. Slowly but surely, the intoxicated party started to disperse out of the lights and into the shadows, getting into their cars and driving away- probably not the best idea, so I hope all of them had designated drivers. (PSA: DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE YALL IT’S BAD VERY BAD VERY ILLEGAL VERY DANGEROUS) Even the DJ didn’t bother coming back for his stuff after I threw him off his own stage. Whatever, the patrol deputies will find it eventually, and it’ll probably just get donated somewhere. My alpha instincts kicked in fairly quickly as I scanned what was left of the people for Scott’s undoubtedly, highly intoxicated pack. Allison, Lydia, and Stiles were helping keep Isaac and Scott afloat while Boyd- who had remained sober- held Erica bridal style in his arms. At least the wolfsbane mixed with booze isn’t fatal- just gives the werewolves an extra kick. I did a quick mental check in my head to see if everyone was accounted for, but there was still one person missing- Vanessa. A little panic flushed over me as I didn’t see her long, dark hair floating along with the pack somewhere, so I quickly averted my eyes and scanned the venue for any sign of her. Then there she was- curled into a little ball just behind where the light reached, hidden in the shadows. Hair was strewn over her face, and what is that- blood pooling around her head?

I jumped off the stage, running quickly and crouching down at her side, lifting her head up. It looked like the blood was coming from her ears- poor girl probably couldn’t handle the sound.

“Vanessa?” I said, gently patting her on the cheek- no response. “Hey kid, wake up- the party's over, nobody died.” I said, a silent ‘Yet’ popping into my train of thought, but I decided to keep that to myself. After a few more gentle pats, her eyes slowly started to flutter open, revealing her bloodshot eyes and popping amber irises. I tried to suppress a small grin as relief washed over me after knowing she wasn’t seriously injured in the madness of this party. 

“Bed…” She managed to groan out, her eyes quickly rolling back into her head as she threw her arms around my neck and leaned into my chest. Feeling her arms around me made my breath hitch and heart stop. In my arms, she was so small and light as a feather- so fragile, so sensitive. I’m scared to even lift her up for fear of damaging her dumb, drunk ass- but not scared enough to let her lay here. I slid my arm under her legs, lifting her into the air as I stood up and started to walk over to the rest of the pack. Allison was barely keeping Scott standing, while Lydia and Stiles still struggled to keep Isaac’s tree-like body from going face first into the ground. Thankfully, the humans seemed unaffected by the cheap beer laced with werewolf poison, so they were almost totally lucid.

“What’s up with her?” Lydia asked, almost dropping Isaac as his body tilted towards one side.

“Holy shit, is she bleeding from her ears?” Stiles butted in before I had the chance to answer Lydia, earning a low growl to be aimed at him. He quickly shrunk back, readjusting the position of Isaac’s arm around his shoulder.

“She’s just out of it like the rest of them- but that’s your problem now.”

“Nuh uh, Sourwolf.” Stiles shook his head, starting to walk away with Lydia and Isaac by his side, back towards the direction of the Jeep. “I barely have enough room in the car to get these five home safely. You’ve already got her and you know where the house is- just take her home!”

I looked down at the half-conscious girl dangling in my arms, small and helpless after being unknowingly poisoned. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to put her down, so reluctantly, I looked up and nodded my head.

“Yeah, I’ve got her- Oh hey, Stiles!” I called after him, getting a quick stop and turn around from him. “Try not to kill anyone.”

Stiles smiled, shaking his head and continuing to walk. “You know I can never promise that!”

[mexcine2]

                                                Art Imitates...Other Art   

We’ve discussed “swipes” before (notably in the re-creation of a Wings comic book cover for Captain Science), but this time we’ll credit to “coincidence” the similarities between several 1920s Weird Tales covers by C.C. Senf and scenes in films created decades later.*  Probably.  Maybe it was psychic powers!  Usually it goes the other way, artists “borrowing” (deliberately or unconsciously) images they saw in a movie (or a magazine, or a comic book, or...wherever), which is understandable.

*[Senf was not the only Weird Tales artist whose work sometimes seems prescient.  The “Tellers of Weird Tales” blog shows another eerie example of similarity between a 1938 Virgil Finlay cover and a scene from Plan 9 From Outer Space. ]

German-born Curtis Charles Senf (1873-1949) painted 45 Weird Tales covers between 1927 and 1932.  Margaret Brundage (who did 66 Weird Tales covers from 1933 to 1945, the only person who did more than Senf), Hannes Bok, Virgil Finlay, J. Allen St. John, and other artists were also closely affilated with this pulp magazine in the post-Senf era (Senf returned to commercial art after 1932).

Senf’s Weird Tales covers don’t all feature monsters: some depict relatively normal looking people engaged in what appear to be non-supernatural (albeit somewhat criminal or violent) activity.  Senf wasn’t a master stylist like Brundage, perhaps due to his commercial art background, and his paintings aren’t especially outré or imaginative, but they are technically competent and often interesting.  Terence E. Hanley, of the aforementioned “Tellers of Weird Tales” blog, calls Senf’s work “old-fashioned” but not in a pejorative way.

The first “prescient” cover we’ll discuss is the one for Weird Tales April 1927, which illustrates a scene from “Explorers into Infinity” by Ray Cummings. An evil but seemingly jolly giant caveman has uprooted a tree and is about to drop it on a sunbathing beauty. I have to say that while the caveman is amusingly rendered (he looks so happy that he’s about to squash his victim—in the story, it’s described as “a grin, but with a leer to it—horribly sinister”), the young woman is posed in a rather awkward fashion (notice she keeps her legs demurely crossed, although the fact that she’s wearing a transparent gown makes the whole exercise rather pointless).

This cover reminds me of a scene from the cult movie Equinox, made by independent filmmakers in 1967 (released in 1970).  This picture features some interesting stop-motion animated creatures but also a giant caveman represented by an optically-enlarged guy in makeup.  The colour scheme of the Equinox caveman is the inverse of the Weird Tales cover:  one has blue (sometimes green, depending upon the print you’re watching) skin and a brown fur costume, while the other has brown skin and a blue animal-skin costume (notice the visible animal claws on the “tail” of the caveman’s suit).  Both have monstruous faces, although the Equinox caveman has a far more serious demeanour than Senf’s smiling menace.  In Equinox the giant has relatively little screen time; in Cummings’ story the image of the caveman (described as looking like a “gnome” but “ten times” taller than the girl) is seen via a “myrdoscope” that gives scientists the glimpse into another dimension, but part 1 (the story was continued in the next issue) concludes without the scientists travelling to rescue the girl (contrary to what one would expect--maybe they save her from Smiley the Giant Caveman in parts 2 or 3).

Its similarity to Equinox aside, does Senf’s cover for Weird Tales April 1927 sell the magazine?  “Leering monster threatens scantily-clad young woman” aside, the tone of the cover is  a bit stiff and “illustrative" rather than exploitative, probably a function of the artist’s training and background, as well as the general style of magazine illustrations of the era.  Within a few short years—some titles coming around sooner than others—pulp covers would set aside this sort of storybook, fairy tale style and become more modern and innovative.  However, this is still a well-crafted, evocative cover that probably sold some extra issues of the magazine.

The second Senf cover is from the September 1928 issue, and represents the short story “The Devil-Plant,” by John Murray Reynolds.  I had a number of choices of filmic dopplegangers to choose from, since giant, man-eating plants appear prolifically in films and other popular culture media.   I picked The Angry Red Planet as an example because I’d just re-watched that picture in preparation for the upcoming issue of Screem magazine (self-promotion is the best promotion).  Since the Weird Tales cover depicts a woman in danger of being eaten by a plant, you'd think The Woman-Eater (1957) would have been the best choice, but there are basically two designs for man- (and woman-) eating plants, the "giant Venus flytrap" model (for example, 1973's Please Don't Eat My Mother-- "Audrey Jr." in Little Shop of Horrors is also anthropomophised to a considerable extent, but it's Venus flytrap origins are still visible) and the "tree with multiple tentacle-arms" model.*  Since Senf's painting (and the original story) specifically mention that the monster was based on a Venus flytrap, and since The Woman Eater uses the "tentacle-arms" style, I reluctantly moved on to The Angry Red Planet (although to be precise, the carnivorous plants on the pulp magazine and in this film both have a Venus flytrap-like "mouth" and tentacle-arms).

*[The "killer plants" in films such as From Hell It Came, Day of the Triffids, Navy vs. the Night Monsters, etc. tend to be mobile and more humanoid in form.]

Killer plants are, as noted, a common pop culture menace, but--excluding the rare "walking plant" exceptions mentioned above--are not really that dangerous if you are paying attention.  Most victims are done in by their curiosity or by extreme carelessness. Consequently, they're not often the central "monster" in longer-form fiction like movies.

The killer plant in The Angry Red Planet is only a minor threat in the film: it's the first "monster" encountered by a crew of Earth explorers when the arrive on the red planet, and clueless scientist Iris practically crawls inside the plant before it decides to try to eat her. She's saved by machete-wielding Colonel Tom O'Bannion (promoted from "Major Tom," presumably) and then comic-relief crewman Sam blasts the plant with his freeze-gun.  In contrast, the Weird Tales short story that inspired the cover is literally entitled "The Devil-Plant," so we know where the dramatic focus lies. 

I suppose it goes without saying that "Venus flytrap-shaped" is convenient terminology, because otherwise we'd have to refer to this design as "vaginal-shaped" (clutches pearls in shock).  Honestly, a real Venus flytrap doesn't resemble a vagina that much, but Senf's giant mutated killer plant and especially the plant-monster inThe Angry Red Planet are pretty suggestive.  I won't go so far as to suggest that these plants represent a subconscious fear of female sexuality, but I wouldn't argue too strenuously against some sort of feminist reading.  Or not. Go ask Georgia O'Keefe.

When compared to the April 1927 cover, Senf's painting for the cover of Weird Tales September 1928 demonstrates a definite evolution in the artist's style. The later painting is more dynamic, more exciting, and more exploitative as opposed to story-book illustrative.  Instead of a "leering" cave man threatening a demure maiden in a forest glen, we get a machete-wielding explorer in a solar topee charging an over-sized vagina-plant as it's devouring a young woman in distress.  The earlier cover sets up the potential for violence (although it's possible the cave man is smitten by the young woman and is bringing her the uprooted tree as a gift, like a bouquet of flowers) but the second cover plunges us into the midst of a life-and-death struggle with an inhuman creature.

Consequently, the cover for Weird Tales September 1928 is much more eye-catching and marketable than its predecessor, a significant step towards the "golden age" of pulp magazine cover art.