#and Antoine don’t even acknowledge her at all

[briebysabs]

Veronica and Antoine de Sade. I want to fully love y’all but you gotta stop disrespecting my stunning talented jaw-dropping glorious queen okay. You are blessed to have THE Dominique de Sade as a sister, count your blessings 😑

[aheathen-conceivably]

Quiet reigned over the Duplanchier dinner table. Whatever illusion of peace that had been there before had been shattered by the roar of a 1932 Ford Roadster. It had arrived only minutes before, cutting through the stillness of the desert before it purred to a halt in front of of the farmhouse. Now it sat outside, gleaming in the final sunbeams of the day while its presence was felt even beyond the thin wooden walls that shielded it from view.

The ghost of its engine filled the quiet air of the kitchen, fighting for dominance alongside the clattering of forks and nervously unspoken words. It was ringing in Violette’s ears, feeding into the seething feeling she could feel rising from the depths of her stomach. She knew that she wasn’t the only one, but she was only just beginning to learn how her parent’s responded to their own emotions. With quiet. They didn’t yell when they were uncomfortable the way she wanted to, or even try to talk about the issue in front of them. They just wanted to sit in quiet: sad, melancholy, infuriating quiet.

So when the ringing of the engine finally began to deafen her ears and she couldn’t deny the shaking feeling of anger in her stomach anymore, she didn’t even make a sound. She simply threw her chair back, allowing the screech on the wooden floorboards to punctuate the quiet air the way she wanted to with a yell, before she stomped out of the room.

Why should she give them an explanation? No one had asked her what she wanted her father to do; they had all simply been quiet. For weeks and for months, until suddenly, Poppa has to go on the road, Princess. That was it. Her life as she knew it was over. The promises her Aunt Jo had made now void. He was leaving, the way he said he never would, the way she feared when she came out to this strange place with these strange people and this strange feeling that just made her want to yell and scream but she couldn’t because it was always just so quiet.

Whatever she had hoped to find in her room wasn’t there. She wound up the music box on the side of her bed, hoping that it would cut through the silence. But even alongside its thin song she could hear it: the void of noise in the desert, one through which she could hear the music coming from below the floorboards in New Orleans. Music her father played, music her father would be playing when he left them tomorrow.

Only she would be left here in the silence of her room, the infuriating quiet of her mother’s little world in a place that just made her want to go home, even though they all told her this was where home was supposed to be.

A few minutes later he found her on the ground next to her bed, crying hot, angry tears that she hadn’t quite yet learned how to hide. The small music box had just finished its song, and as his daughter’s eyes met his the ballerina over her shoulder stopped twirling just in time to face him. It seemed to stare at him just the way it did when it was his mother and his sister sitting on either side of it, entranced by the very same melody that it still played here, decades later and thousands of miles away.

He fought through the clouds of his memories to walk nearer to her, but she didn’t turn or even acknowledge his presence as he sat down; instead, she let the quiet answer the pain she could feel radiating from his words like sunbeams on the sand. “Look at me, Princess. Don’t cry alright? You’re strong. Very strong, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

Still she stayed resolute, and something desperate almost broke in Antoine. The part of him that wanted to cry too, to curl up in a small ball and refuse to go no matter what his sister threatened or how dire their situation was. He had pulled nearly all the strength he could in these last few days, packing his life into the neat squares of a suitcase as he put off saying goodbye to Zelda and Violette for as long as he possibly could.

Only he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer, not when it sat beside him angry and confused, much the same way a deep part of him still felt too. He pulled her close to him as her posture softened just enough to lean onto him for support. “Ma petite chérie, it won’t be long, please. I’ll bring you home something from the road, okay? A dress, a gift, a souvenir. Whatever you want.”

His words worked in eliciting a reaction, only not the one he had hoped. She shrugged her shoulders violently to throw his hands off of her and dried her face with balled fists. When she spoke it was directed at the shining figure of the ballerina in the box rather than him. “I’m not a child anymore, Poppa.”

The anger she sloughed from her shoulders tried to move onto him like a sickness, because he didn’t want to leave anymore than she wanted him to. But he loved her too much to let it win, even if it made his voice hoarse and his eyes burn. “Then you want the truth, Violette? Sometimes people have to leave. They have to leave to find what they want or to help other people. As you get older you might be one of those people, or it may be your friends or even your family. Sometimes they don’t even come home. But I can promise you that I’m always going to come home. You and your mother will be here and that will always make me come back, no matter what happens or where in the world I am.”

Finally she turned, a rehearsed sparkle in her eyes which should have told him that she thought her entreaties would work and had been saving them for the right moment. “Then can I come with you? Can I come on the road? I’ll be good, I promise. I don’t want to be here without you or Aunt Jo…”

“Violette, you have school. Your mother. The farmhouse…” his voice was growing thinner, more exasperated by the fact that she didn’t understand what he had to do or that it hurt so goddamn much to do it. She didn’t know that he would look in on her sleeping before he stepped out the door in only a few hours, reminding himself of why he was doing it at all in the most painful way possible. “What more do you want? I have to leave, okay? I have to leave for you and our family. You just…you don’t understand.”

She turned back to face the music box, too angry to even reach out and wind it up again. He was wrong. She did understand. Not that he was leaving them out of love and devotion, or that the world required sacrifice especially in the face of those things. But what she understood was no less true, even if it was tinted by the sounds of his music playing from the depths of her own memory. She understood that there was no real opportunity for him there, and in turn perceived that there was no real opportunity for her either. Sometimes people have to leave, Violette. If that was the truth to understand from his words that night, then she more than understood it.

[pommunist]

I do wonder a little if the very different reactions to Pomme and Dapper's beds being included in the stream might in part be like... a difference in people used to seeing a new admin play an egg? The situations are very different and that should be acknowledged and looked at and even if as is likely the case QStudios owns all rights to the NPCs created for QSMP it would feel extremely icky to me to give Pomme especially a new admin. But at the same time... I do wonder if people more used to say, Chayanne, who has had 2 different main admins and been played by 4 or 5 different admins regularly enough the different forms have nicknames are more... accepting of the idea? Because the idea of an egg belonging only to the one actor is less comprehensible to them, as it's not what they're used to? Ramón's situation might be closer, but again 2 admins at least. Im almost certain I've seen Tallulah played by someone else when her admin was sick, and I've no doubt some of the other eggs have occassionally been played by others due to admin illness even if not long term.

(This is not to say it's main the issue (even without eggs being acted Sunny's admin should have known what was happening just for bigger issues with the stream alone - admin health and treatment is far more important than what they provide) I'm just. Trying to think of reasons why reactions I saw were as polarised as they were, with half my dash treating it like parading a corpse in the street and the other half like this was entirely expected and normal.)

Oh that’s a good question anon !!

First, the ownership of the characters is a tricky point that I don’t have an answer to as intellectual property laws are extremely complicated and not something I know much about tbh.

And on the topic of admin change, I think public reception depends a lot of the cause of said change : For example, when Ramon switched admins, huevitos were perfectly fine with it as it was assumed that the OG had taken a break for studying purposes so it was not a problem (turns out they were fired 🥲). It’s the same whenever an admin steps up to punctually or long term play another character because their admin is too busy with irl stuff, other work within Qstudios, is sick…. (like what I assume happened for Chayanne)

Pomme’s situation is different because of Lumi’s circumstances and the fact that she asked for her character to end with her leaving. Plus the fact that CCs have said before that they didnt want her to be replaced, even before that whole situation, I remember at least Antoine saying he would rather have Pomme dead than be played by someone else. I’d say the french speaking side got quite attached to her as, with all the sidelining we went through, both her character and admin were our only beacon of representation within Qstudios/QSMP 🥹

Also something that makes me kinda ehhhh about saying that there are people who are completely fine with admins changes because their fav character went through at least one is remembering the whole Pepito/otipep mess that had people go mad because Pepito had an admin change for a few days and they didn’t like the "new personnality" or whatever ? (Couldn’t tell the details of it as my spanish suck and Roier often streams in the middle of the night for me, but I remember the twitter shit storm)

Finally about the eggs being like kidnapped and in a coma (I think ? didn’t watch the stream) I guess it’s an okay way to put them on hold while sorting things out + an opportunity to explain in lore if you have to kill some because no more admins ? Or at least it would have been okay if all the eggs admins still working would have been made aware that their characters was being put on hold 😀

[rfsak2]

Easy Target, Pt 1.

So we'll see if anyone even reads this but Ima post it anyways. This has been brewing for decades at this point and it is somewhat of a rewrite of something I posted on Sycophant Hex (~I’m aging myself~) years ago.

For the record I acknowledge that Snape is OOC. He’s taller (by a lot), capable of healing and kindness, and has a sense of humor and hella PTSD.

His characterization is due partly to having started reading these books as a kiddo well before the end of the series (which ended when I was in college ~I’m old~). I have been collecting and revising headcanons since I was a child and now, as an adult and a therapist, I have a very specific idea of Snape that may not be canon, but I might like better.

I also have un-unalived some characters. Lupin and Tonks and maybe more as we go. We’ll see. Again it may not be canon, but I like it and my Snape better. (Fuck JKR).

If you like my Snape, let me know. If ya don’t… also let me know. I’d love to discuss and compare our thoughts

Easy Target

They thought wrong. Severus/OC

Warnings: nothing right now, some bad language words. There will be warnings if continued including mentions of past abuse/assault, violence, smut.

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE. 

“Little Lottie Beauregard.” The woman grinned maliciously. “How the hell are you doin’?” 

Charlotte sighed and set down the book she had been perusing. She glanced over her shoulder and made sure her son was out of earshot. “My last name is de Vilieré, Annabelle, or are your drinking habits finally impairing your memory?”

Annabelle grit her teeth. “No, ‘course not. Say, did you hear about who was at Antoine’s last night?” 

Charlotte made a face. “Can’t say I care about gossip.”

“Beau was seen with the Dreaux girl.” 

“Good for her.”

Annabelle fidgeted with her hair, disconcerted that she wasn’t getting a reaction. “I mean, I would think you’d be interested as that’s why y’all got divorce ‘n all.”

“I didn’t get divorce because Beau was fuckin’ other women. Sorry that I can't validate your petty jealousy.”

“My petty jealousy?” Annabelle shook herself free of following that line of thought. “Why did you get divorced then?”

Charlotte caught her eyes and held them, dispassionate and disinterested, sliding a book back onto the shelf.

Annabelle shied away from her. “I just know that the Beauregards aren’t the kinda family you leave. So you had to have reason to try.” 

“I didn’t try, Annabelle, I succeeded.” Charlotte began flipping through another book. “Maybe, they aren’t as bulletproof as all y’all thought.”

“Rumor has it, your mother has already started undoing all your success.” Annabelle managed to make faux sympathy look as vicious as direct assault. “I reckon you’ll be back at home in no time.” 

Charlotte chuckled, eyes fixed on a spell in the book she was reading. “Well, my mother is hot on the heels of her own divorce, so maybe she should mind her business.” Charlotte turned towards Annabelle and shut the book with a snap. “Ironically, that’s advice you’d find helpful too.” 

Annabelle batted her eyelashes. “Oh, didn’t y’know: my business is anything I make my business.”

“That’s why your family business is failing, ain’t it?” Charlotte nodded. “Makes sense, too many fingers in too many pies.”

Annabelle blanched.

“Though, gotta say, don’t know why’d you want me to remarry Beau.” Charlotte mimicked her simpering tone. “After all, now you can fuck him all you want and you’ll be the only one committing adultery. I mean, he may need to hire a secretary to manage his…  social calendar but I’d imagined this would be good news for you… and the others too, ‘course.”

Annabelle ignored her, pushing her straight, dark hair over her shoulder. “Don’t be silly. Your father isn’t going to divorce your mother. Seriously, it’s a bluff.”

Charlotte smiled. “Would you look at that? There’s at least one thing you don’t know anything about.”

Annabelle hummed, trying very hard to remain calm and disinterested. She failed.

Charlotte bared her teeth. “You don’t know my dad.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes. “No one knows your father.”

Charlotte nodded, eyes on Hadrien, lest he hear more than he should. “That’s not one hundred percent true. I mean he is the eldest son of one of the founding families of this city, a descendant of the first Creole governor of Louisiana. He’s a philanthropist, an expert in his field, he’s active in all the right circles. Everyone knows my father. My father just doesn’t cast pearls before pigs.” 

“Pigs?” Annabelle sucked in a breath and looked down at her hands, trying to school her emotions. “And yet, even the illustrious de Vilierés needed the Beauregards-“

Charlotte laughed. “We didn’t need the Beauregards. My mother made what she thought was a calculated bet. She put her money on the wrong horse, hence the divorce.”

“What horse should she have betted on?”

Charlotte grinned. “Me.”

Annabelle swallowed. “Seems to me that the de Vilierés aren't as prominent as they used to be. Seems to me that she bet on the only horse she had.” She simpered. “After all, the shame was only narrowly avoided. If she had not acted so soon… well, one shudders to think.”

“Must not shudder often, huh?”

Annabelle shot her a nasty glance. Charlotte returned it.

“I just think y’all are awfully big in your britches, considering…”

“Considering, what?” Charlotte challenged. “Quit pussyfooting and say it.”

Annabelle demurred.

Charlotte nodded, sighing. “See now… That’s how I know just how prominent my family is. You wanna drop hints and flirt with what you think is true, but you are too coward to say it. You lack conviction. I doubt you really believe the shit in your mouth. It’s just fodder for your imagined superiority.” Charlotte shrugged and returned Annabelle’s earlier malicious grin. “But then, maybe you just don’t know. Just like you don’t know my dad. You don’t run in the right circles. You want to, for sure. Badly. Desperately. You spend too much money -more than the rumor mill says you have- on dresses for balls and cotillions hosted by social circles you’ll never be welcomed in, to climb a ladder you can only get so high on.”

Annabelle shrunk back.

Charlotte didn’t press forward. Her posture remained loose and unbothered. “Just remember, Annie, my family built the ladder you’re trying to climb. I firmly believe everyone deserves a chance to try to climb the ladder, but knocking us off won’t get you any closer to the top any faster.”

“How egalitarian of you.” She sneered

Charlotte shook her head. “It’s not equality per say, but desire for quality competition. Can’t know how good I am if I don’t know how good my competition is. As it is, I’m not sure I have competition.”

Annabelle flushed. “See, the problem with y’all is-“

Charlotte hummed, cutting her off and set the book in her hand back on the shelf. “The problem is you decided to make my life momentarily difficult instead of minding your damn business. The problem is you’re boxin’ outta your weight class. Shoulda kept your mouth shut and you wouldn’t have embarrassed yourself. But then, the problem is that you got that inferiority complex gnawing at your brain. Makes it difficult to think, I reckon.”

“Charlotte.”

Charlotte turned over her shoulder, away from Annabelle’s slack-jawed stare, and smiled at her brother-in-law’s mother, her godmother.

“Bonjou, Mama Oya! Koman sa va?”

“Mo bon, babygirl.” Tall and ebony-skinned, Oya Dillioles glared down her nose at Annabelle with more regal dignity than any monarch the world over had ever possessed. “Mrs. Brennan.”

Annabelle just managed to not sneer. “Mrs-“

Charlotte tsked. “Madame.” She tilted her head, blonde ringlets tumbling over her shoulder. “I mean, you gotta know I ain’t about to let you address her recklessly.”

Annabelle locked her jaw. “Madame Dillioles.”

Charlotte smiled. “That’s better.”

Oya hummed and turned sharply away from the fuming brunette. Leaning down, she placed a kiss on each of Charlotte’s cheeks. Charlotte stretched up to return the gesture.

Oya shifted so she was standing full in front of Annabelle. “Charlie, cher, I was on my way to the Shop and felt faint. I was hoping you and my strapping, young grand-baby could walk me over, if y’all were done here?”

Charlotte fought back a smile, knowing full well that Oya Dillioles had never felt faint a day in her life. Charlotte would unhesitatingly put money on her living forever. 

“Of course, Mama. We’re meandering that way.” Charlotte called over to Hadrien, who stood from where he had been inspecting a low shelf of books. “Baby, is there anything you wanted to buy? We’re gonna walk over to the Shop with Mama Oya.”

“No, I’m good. I didn’t see anything that we don’t already have at the house.” Hadrien approached with a bright smile, giving Annabelle Brennan a wide berth. “Hey, Mimi!”

Oya’s smile was beaming as she reached up for Hadrien’s peach-fuzzed cheek. “I see you everyday, baby, and I swear you get taller every time. Just the spittin’ image of your Grandpa and Uncle.”

Hadrien beamed and stopped ever so slightly to press a kiss to his de facto grandmother’s cheek.

They left without glancing at Annabelle Brennan. Meandering idly, Hadrien regaled Mama Oya and Charlotte with a complicated potion he had been helping his uncles with all summer.

“Nonc Ogun said that my-“ he stopped short in front of a beignet shop. “Do you think they’ve eaten?” 

“Your uncles?” Charlotte glanced at her watch. “I doubt it. It’s only 10:30, baby.”

“I’ll get them coffee and some pastries then. Be back in a second.” 

Charlotte smiled. “Get me a coffee too, H. Mama Oya?”

Mama Oya pinched Hadrien’s cheek. “Me too, baby. Thank you.”

When Hadrien was clear of the door, Mama Oya glanced down at Charlotte. “You shouldn’t let her get to you.”

Charlotte smiled. “She doesn’t. I’ve known her all my life and the worst she can do is try to taunt me about my divorce? A divorce I wanted and instigated?” Charlotte grinned. “Pathetic. I ain’t worried about her.”

Oya hooked her hand in Charlotte’s elbow. “Who then? Who are you worried about?”

“My son, me, all of my family including the Dillioles..” Charlotte shrugged. “I love NOLA, it’s in my blood-“

“But?”

Charlotte sighed. “But I’m not sure how much longer I can be here without hexing someone into the next century.”

Oya frowned. “Are people harassing you? If so, I can get Amadioha or Eshu to walk around with you.”

“No… that’s not necessary. They both have more important things to be doin’ than babysitting me.”

Oya clicked her tongue. “They would happy -proud- to keep their Auntie Charlie safe, you know that, especially if you’re being harassed.”

“It’s not that bad.” Charlotte sighed. “People mostly just stare or make little snide comments. I kinda wish someone would try something. Give me a reason.” Charlotte caught her eyes. “I just- I’m done. I don’t have it in me to pretend anymore. To show people only what they want. To allow them to spew shit about situations they know nothing about without retaliation. It’s killin’ me.”

Oya nodded. “You’ve never been good at politicking, playing nice. Straight to the point. It’s one of the reasons we should’ve known that you didn’t want to be with him. That there was more going on.”

Charlotte shook her head. “I worked real hard for a long time to keep y’all out of it. I just wish I had said something sooner.”

Oya nodded. “I know, baby, I know.”

“I just don't know if I can be me here. Everyone already has an opinion here. About me, about the family, about the divorce. I feel like I’m suffocating.” She sighed. “I'm trying to make it to January but I don’t know if I can.”

“When Hadrien turns eighteen.” 

Charlotte nodded. “I have an interview. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“For a job?” 

“Yeah, with a school out in the UK.”

“Hogwarts?” Oya whistled. “Ain’t that somethin’?”

Charlotte swallowed. “They’ve finished fixing up the school after the- after and the Headmistress was their transfiguration professor so they need a new one.”

Oya smiled and pinched at her cheek. “Well, I’ll miss you for sure, but I can’t think of a better person to take over a transfiguration professorship.”

Charlotte turned wide, vulnerable eyes on Oya. “Are you sure?”

Oya pressed a kiss to Charlotte’s forehead. “Never been surer about anythin’, cher. You are the best transfiguration master I’ve ever met.”

Charlotte breathed deep and nodded. “One thing that would make it easier, tell you what. Once Dad’s divorce is final…”

Oya sucked on her tongue. “Hush you.”

Charlotte grinned. “Gotta get rid of your boy toys though.”

Oya pursed her lips to tamp down her smile.

**

Charlotte yawned and glanced at her watch. 

6:00 am. Goddamn.

She could barely keep her eyes open as she dropped her portkey into the waiting basket, set down the bird cage in her hands and stepped off the platform. 

This is bullshit. People don’t actually exist at this hour.

She looked around quietly, hoping to catch sight of not only the customs office, but also a coffee shop? Or at least someone who could tell her where to find one?

She sighed upon seeing the customs office, sans coffee, and made her way towards the line she could already see forming, catching a brief glimpse of herself in a large decorative mirror. 

She winced, taking in her bedraggled appearance.  

As per normal, her blonde hair was a mess of frizzy ringlets, her blue eyes tired and clouded over the bags that normally haunted the sleepless. To top it off, she hadn't really even bothered to get dressed beyond a faded t-shirt and a pair of cuffed, faded blue jeans that had once been dark. It just seemed too much effort to get all dressed up for traveling and the inevitable errands she had to run.

She shivered. It was full-summer sweltering, bordering on hellish in NOLA. She had worked up a sweat walking from the car to the porkey office in NOLA not thirty minutes ago. She would have to dig a sweater out of one of her bags at first opportunity.

She swallowed dryly and set her shoulders. She was a de Vilierè. She could do this.

She felt her posture collapse, the energy required to keep upright almost too taxing on her frayed nervous system. 

I’m not sure I’m human currently, much less me.

She pinched the bridge of her nose feeling the caffeine headache starting up.

There was so much to do after she finished fighting her way through the red tape. There were new clothes to buy, books to peruse, money to exchange and bank vaults to set up. She then had to portkey to some remote town in Scotland and become acquainted with the school that she would be living in for the foreseeable future.

She sighed and shook off a raging headache and a distinct sense of melancholy. Best get to work.

**

After an hour waiting in the line at the customs desk in the British Ministry's International Portkey Office, she imagined she had seriously considered casting nearly dozen unforgivables, a great majority of them directed at either the execrably slow customs officer or the man in front of her that sported excruciatingly severe body odor.

It took a further fifteen minutes of abject torture before the man in front of her moved away from the counter and cleared the way.

To be fair, she tried valiantly to put on a smile and remember the manners society expected of her, but upon reaching the front of the line, the portly woman found there launched into a laundry list of items that the Ministry had deemed 'restricted.' 

No hello. No good morning. Just a list of vegetables and restricted potions ingredients.

It took another ten minutes and all of her easily exhausted patience, after pulling nearly all of her worldly possessions out of her bespelled satchel, to convince the officer that she was carrying none of the restricted items  in her luggage.

Finally, after checking the last item off her list, the witch turned back to her and held out one chubby hand. “Hand me your wand, Ms. de Vilieré.”

Charlotte raised a blonde eyebrow in response, both at the butchering of her name (de Vil-ear) and the idea of placing what amounted to a part of her soul into the hand of a customs officer who she doubted would treat it with the respect it deserved. Knowing it would get her nowhere, she relented and handed her the wand.

The woman examined the wand carefully and then measured it, calling back to one of her cronies, “Yew, ten inches, with...” She paused and cast a spell on the wand, “A snake's scale.” She shot Charlotte a skeptical look. “You yanks believe that snake scales hold magical properties?”

Charlotte smiled frostily, her deep south accent deepening further (if that was even possible) in irritation. “It's not just any snake, it's Li Grand Zombi and it does hold magical properties or it wouldn't be in my wand.”

“It's a zombie snake?” The woman guffawed. “I'll believe it when I see it.” 

“I can demonstrate if y’want.”

The woman froze, staring at her from under her lashes. “No, mum, it’s not necessary.” 

Charlotte simpered. “If you’re sure.”

She cleared her throat and gave the wand an experimental flick, turning her back on Charlotte. “Yew, ten inches, springy and with a zombie snake's scale at the heart.”

A red-headed man sat behind her and stared at Charlotte from behind a set of clerical file drawers. “Got it, Matilda.”

Matilda cast an appraising look at Charlotte and whispered, a bad parody of sotte voce. “Though, I reckon she’s not the type we’d be wantin’ ‘ere after You Know Who.”

The man nodded. “Yew wood and a snake core. Bad omens, they are.”

Charlotte grit her teeth. “Can I please have my wand back, Matilda?”

Matilda looked uncomfortable and handed back her wand. “Here y’go, mum.” She nodded, awkward anxiety written in her posture. “You’re done ‘ere, mum. Passport control and visas are two floors up.”

Charlotte thanked her quietly as she accepted her wand. She made to leave and paused. “For the record, Voldemort didn’t have nothin’  on some of our racist madmen.” Charlotte delighted in their shivers, fighting down her conscience. “And I’m an absolute pussycat compared to them. Adieu.”

She didn’t get far before regretting her ill temper. She’d be lucky to make it to Hogwarts at this rate. Matilda was probably calling the passport office right now.

Tossed out because I couldn’t watch my mouth. Who’da thunk?

Charlotte glanced up at the clock and cussed under her breath. She made her way towards where she assumed the elevators were. She had at least another hour of bureaucracy and red tape before she could do something fun.

Three hours later, she was sitting on a bench in the middle of the now-bustling Portkey Authority, trying valiantly to fight of the wave of sleepiness that had latched onto her mind with a vengeance as soon as she stopped moving.

As it were, she was quickly falling into a light doze when an indignant squawk broke its way through the fog of sleepiness.

“Hermés, shh.”

The squawking did not stop and the bird-cage sitting next to her on the bench shook violently. Charlotte sighed a little and, with a small indulgent smile, twisted around to find her steadily over-filled satchel on the other side of the bench next to her. She pulled out a bird treat and moved the leather cover out of the way looking at the falcon within.

She offered the treat as one would offer a peace treaty and got a hearty nip to her forefinger for her trouble.

“Yeah, yeah, screw you too, bitch. You never stay angry for long, and you know it.” She reached into the cage and smoothed the ruffled feathers on the falcon’s head, before retrieving another bird treat.

“I don't mean to intrude, mum, but are you Charlotte de Vilierè?”

Vil-i-ear. She shrugged. It was better.

Charlotte started and turned toward the representative of the Authority she somehow missed approaching. “Um yeah, that’s me.”

The short man cleared his throat. “Well, we are ready when you are, ma’am.”

“Yeah. Okay.” She took a deep breath and grabbed Hermés’ cage. “Let's go.”

**

Charlotte took another deep breath of clean, cool air, trying really hard to not jostle Hermés in his cage. She looked around Hogsmeade slowly, taking in what amounted to a tiny sleepy village in its full summer splendor. The sun was bright, the foliage green and the air cool and clean, a startling difference to the muggy, sweltering heat of New Orleanian summers. 

She took another deep breath to savor the beauty around her and stepped further onto the street.

“Oh and yeh must be the new professor!”

Charlotte started and turned towards the large man standing next to a carriage. She nodded slowly watching as the man began to walk towards her. He shot her a broad grin, then stuck a hand out.

“Th' name is Hagrid, I teach Care of Magical Creatures. Nice ta meet yeh, Professor.”

Charlotte felt her body relax, smiling easily and slipping her hand into his. “Charlotte de Vilieré. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

Smiling, he reached for the bird cage in her hand and relieved her of her satchel as well. He bowed slightly and opened the door for her. “Go ahead, then. Get in the carriage. I'll be taking yeh up to the grounds.”

She nodded again and made for the carriage quickly. “Um thank you.”

He smiled and nodded then followed her into the carriage, setting Hermés on the ground between them. “You're welcome.” He settled back and shifted around her until he was comfortable. “So where are you from, Professor? The headmistress said you were from across the pond, but was mum as to where exactly.” A small self-deprecating smile flitted across his face. “Probably guessed we wouldn't have no clue what she was talking about anyways.”

Charlotte smiled softly.  “I'm from New Orleans, Louisiana.” At his look of confusion, she clarified. “It's in the South, along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico.”

Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. “Mardi Gras, right? I don’t rightly know where that is but I've heard about Mardi Gras. I probably coulda guessed that you were from the South from your accent.”

She chuckled lightly. “It is rather distinct. Maybe when I am settled in I can show you New Orleans on a map.”

“I would like that, professor.” Hagrid smiled broadly again. “So you're gonna be takin' over teachin' Transfiguration?”

“Um, yes. I'll be teaching Transfiguration and taking over a couple of the Arithmancy classes so that Professor Vector, I believe, can do more research.”

The sound of gates swinging open cut off the rest of the conversation.

“We're here.”

**

“This here is Professor Snape, our Deputy Headmaster. He'll be showin' yeh around Hogwarts.” Hagrid smiled brightly and motioned to the dour-looking man in all black standing on the steps of the school. As if sensing her anxiety, he whispered from somewhere over her head, and took Hermés’ birdcage from her hand. “I know he looks a fright, but he's a war-hero. Never met someone as brave ‘n trustworthy as the professor. Man deserves to be a little grumpy after what all happened. I’ll take your owl and your bags to your quarters.”

She nodded absently, choosing not to mention that he didn’t look a ��fright’. He wasn’t smiling, sure, looked to be pretty ticked to be standing there, but that wasn’t the problem. 

She had done her research and knew who Severus Snape was. She knew to expect some curmudgeon-esque behavior. His personality had been extensively reported on, but so had his deeds, his skill, his intelligence. 

Severus Snape was capable and, while she knew she was intelligent and the Headmistress had been impressed with her, seventeen years trapped in a marriage had done little for her professional confidence. The imposter syndrome was kicking her ass. 

That and he was attractive. Sure, he wasn’t Brad Pitt or Leonardo DiCaprio, but she’d never been really interested in conventional. He was tall and intense and wore intelligence and ambition like armor. 

It had been a long while since she’d felt any type of attraction for anyone. It was enough to set her nerves on edge.

And honestly, she probably looked like she had been dragged backwards through a swamp. Bedraggled and disheveled.

Her mother’s voice came to her unbidden. Really Lottie. Put more effort into how you look. That’s your job as a wife, to be ornamental. He didn’t marry you for your brain.

Maybe if you took being Beau’s wife more seriously he wouldn’t-

She shook herself free of that memory and started up the stairs toward the tall man. She wiped her hands on her jeans, hoping he didn’t see, knowing by his sneer that he did. “Hello, Professor Snape. I am Charlotte de Vilieré.”

One black eyebrow rose as a pair of black eyes looked down in disgust at her hand. His eyes flickered back up to hers and he intoned a brief: “I'm aware.”

She breathed deep. So it begins. “‘Course.”

He hummed. 

Her jaw clenched slightly, before she forced herself to relax. “Nice to meet you.”

“I'm sure.” He sighed negligently and waved her into the castle. “Shall we? The Headmistress thinks it a good idea that I show you around the school.” His tone left no room for imagination as to his feelings on the matter. 

She sighed and followed after him, noting with more than a little resignation, that he seemed determined to lose her. At maybe six-three or six-four and towering a foot-plus over her not particularly impressive five-two, he had a much longer stride and used it to his advantage. He was in the building before she even had time to clear the first level of stairs.

Breathing deeply, she scampered behind him. Once in the building - the castle, good god, where am I?- she became easily distracted by the architecture, the smell, the feel of the place. Nothing in NOLA, as opulent and storied as it was, could compare to this.

He stopped abruptly, she almost ran full-tilt into his back, and turned towards her, watching in sarcastic amusement as she put a hand to her chest and huffed a shaky, “Shit.”

“Having problems keeping up, Ms. de Vilieré?”

What a dick. She glared at him and stood up straight. “Please continue, Professor.”

The smirk fell from his face, indicating that she had likely said that out loud. She flushed and felt a brief stab of something more than anxiety as he appraised her with dark eyes. 

He seemed to come to some decision and turned away, drawling a quiet: “Indeed.”

Turning toward the giant doors in front of them, one large hand came out from the depths of his pockets with a wand. A negligent flick of his wrist later and the doors opened.

She followed him into the room and looked up at the enchanted ceiling silently, awestruck by the sheer complexity of the charms needed to pull something like that off.

“Do close your mouth, Ms. de Vilieré. It is rude to gape.” He shot her a smug look and continued to walk further into the room. “This is the Great Hall...”

After that she found it rather hard to concentrate on what he was saying. Somewhere in between imagining a dozen or so wordless, wandless jinxes she could throw at him, she completely zoned out.

She was just considering the mathematics behind a wandless color change spell, when the subject of these musings cleared his throat.

“Ms. de Vilieré, if you would kindly listen when I speak to you.” 

With a swift shake of the head, the woman rejoined the world of the living and stared up at the very tall man in black with tired eyes, realizing yet again just how tired she was. She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face, chastising herself. She seriously considered attempting to throw a jinx at the man just because he was being a little ornery.

“Professor Snape?” A sour look passed over his face briefly as he waited for her to continue. Her accent was thick with exhaustion and she was sure she looked a mess, but she struggled to focus on his disapproving black eyes for more than a few seconds. “I know that it's pretty late in the afternoon here, and that by all rights I should be as cheerful as you, but,” she paused to yawn, peeking with one eye over the hand shielding her mouth at the glowering man, “But I have not stopped goin' since midnight and I need to sleep desperately.”

He looked down his long nose at her, black eyebrow raised in disdain. “I see. In that case, I will show you to your quarters. Will that suffice?”

She nodded mid-yawn before adjusting her tote on her shoulder. “By all means, lead the way.”

He nodded curtly and turned sharply on his heel. “This way, Professor.”

**

When next he saw her, this time hours later at staff dinner, she looked if possible, even more ridiculous. She seemed to be wearing the same trousers as she had been wearing this afternoon, wrinkled as if she had fallen asleep in them, accompanied by an over-large gray sweatshirt, with the word ‘Saints’ emblazoned across the front in garish gold lettering. Her curly blonde hair was free of the ponytail it had been in earlier and had formed a cloud around her head that made her look like an overgrown mushroom.

A beautiful mushroom, to be honest, with an alluring, impressively glowing recommendation from Minerva and a surname that tickled at his memory for some god forsaken reason. 

But a mushroom, nonetheless. 

She approached the table timidly, with the near imperceptible scuff of trainers on stone, and made for the only open seat, the one directly across from him.

The table fell silent, even Rolanda and Lupin choosing to forgo their rather obnoxiously loud discussion of quidditch in lieu of watching the tiny, blushing woman take her seat.

Minerva cringed slightly at the woman's less-than-professional appearance, before forcing a thin, polite smile on her face. She cast a look at Severus and he knew immediately that she was warning him to play nice. “And how did your travels go, Professor de Vilieré?”

“Charlotte’s fine.” The woman smiled, her hair arranging itself into a neat bun of its own accord. 

Wandless and wordless. Severus shrugged it off, it was likely a spell she had been using most of her life. Proficiency was a given. 

“It went alright, I guess, Headmistress. Thanks for askin’. I'm exhausted but I reckon I'll be right as rain in the morning.” She shrugged with a self-deprecating smile. “And more put together too.”

Minerva responded with a pleasantry he didn't care to catch and the woman responded in kind with a soft smile and soft admonition he couldn’t make out. 

As she spoke recounting some particular or another about her journey, he allowed himself to listen to the odd cadence of her voice. Her voice was soft and her accent thick and drawling, lacking the staccato rhythm of the Minerva’s brogue and brusque quality of his own voice, but there was something annoyingly pleasant about it.

Like almost everything else about her, he decided it was irritating. She was a lesson in extremes. She was too short, her hair too wild, her jumper too garish and her accent too American. She couldn't just be average.

That thought led into another rather interesting thought. Why was it that this blasted school couldn't hire anyone normal? 

“Severus!” A long fingered hand landed on his sleeve heavily. “Are you quite alright, dear?”

Severus snapped to attention and focused on Minerva. “Yes.”

“What has you so distracted?” She retracted her hand.

He sighed, frustrated that he had been caught lost in his thoughts. “It is of no importance.” He caught de Vilieré’s eyes and grunted, looking down at his food.

**

“That jumper, Ms. de Vilieré, may I assume that it is in...support, shall we say, of a sports team?” Despite his polite, maybe even pleasant, phrasing, the deep baritone of his voice dripped with sarcasm. He didn’t like her or her sweater and desired that she knew it.

The asshole.

She looked up from the mush she had made on her plate and caught his arched eyebrow with one of her own, and spoke in a deliberately cheerful voice, nodding. “The New Orleans Saints. They are my hometown’s professional football- American Football- team.” She deliberately ignored his contemptuous look.

“Ahh,” he drawled, smirking slightly. “Muggle football, I’d suspect.”

She breathed deep, trying to steady herself. “Yeah, it’s a no-maj sport.”

“Not Quidditch?” Professor Hooch frowned. “Do Americans play quidditch?”

“Some people are into it. There’s a club league in NOLA that my brother-in-law tried out once. Quidditch is more popular up north, I think. The South has been obsessed with Football as long as people have been playing it.” Charlotte smiled. “To be honest, I don't think I've ever watched Quidditch. I’m not really a sports girl."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Then why the jumper, I wonder?"

Charlotte shrugged, watching as the Headmistress shot Snape a look. "I think my brother gave me this sweater, to be honest, or my dad.”

Professor Hooch looked scandalized. “Did you play quidditch at Ilvermorny?”

Charlotte smiled. “I didn’t go to Ilvermorny. The US is a very large country. Most states have their own school or schools. I went to the Convent - the Lafreniere School of Magic in New Orleans. The no-majs believe the school buildings are an old Ursuline Convent. Most still call it the Convent rather than by the school’s official name. Everyone in my family went there and it’s, like, right around the corner from our house. My dad wouldn’t have felt too secure sending his children that far from home.”

“It’s not a boarding school?” Professor Lupin leaned forward.

Charlotte rubbed at her face. Their questions were to be expected but this level of social engagement was exhausting her already rock bottom stores of energy. “No. Most schools in the States don’t board their students. Ilvermorny does and I think there’s a boarding school out in California.”

“I’ve heard that Americans often pursue higher education. Did you attend university?”

Charlotte winced imperceptibly, having dreaded this question. “I had planned to. Life got complicated around the end of my time at the Convent.”

“Complicated?” Snape drummed the pad of his middle finger against the table, dark eyes on her.

Charlotte nodded. “Complicated. I decided it would be more feasible to pursue apprenticeship in my chosen fields.”

“Complicated how?” 

She turned back to Snape and considered him quietly. “Complicated enough that it derailed many of my personal plans.”

He caught her eyes and held them for a long moment.

“How interesting.” The Headmistress smiled, sensing the rising tension. “The differences in culture are astounding.”

She blinked and he looked down.

Sprout leaned forward, ignoring her. “I’ve heard about something called Mardi Gras?”

Mar-tee Grass. Jesus Christ. 

Charlotte chuckled but didn’t correct her. “It’s one of the things New Orleans is famous for. It means Fat Tuesday. It’s the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday.” 

“Ash Wednesday?”

Professor Snape sighed. “The Wednesday before the start of Lent.”

He was met with blank stares. He caught Charlotte’s eyes. “The forty days before Easter. Meant as a time of repentance. Catholics observe it.”

Professor Sprout turned back to her. “Are you Catholic?” 

The look on her face must have been unedited because Professor Lupin chuckled. 

She marshaled herself and made a so-so motion with her hands. “Culturally, I guess. I did all the sh- rites that were expected of me. But I haven’t willingly stepped inside a church in years.” She shrugged. 

“Why did you do all the rites if you don’t think you believe it?”

“Pomona!”

Charlotte nodded at the Headmistress. “It’s okay. It was expected of me, given my cultural heritage and family. I don’t know of any member of a Creole family that would risk social censure by rejecting Catholicism. You just do it, take Communion, light the candle, get it over with. Grease the wheels and all that.”

“How do you know about Lent, Severus?” Pomona turned to Snape with curious eyes. 

“I was raised Catholic.” Snape nodded to Charlotte. “Similarly to Ms. de Vilierè, I did all the shite that was expected of me and no longer practice.”

“I didn’t know that about you, Severus.” Flitwick hummed, kind smile on his face. “What did you mean by Creole, Charlotte?”

“Being of French heritage from the city of New Orleans.” 

“And being Catholic is part of being Creole?”

“I think it’s widely assumed to be essential to being Creole.” 

“You would disagree?” Severus watched her quietly.

“I don’t think it matters if I agree.” She sighed. “New Orleanian magical communities are very… culture-bound and committed to maintaining tradition. As a result, these communities retain a lot of the historical prejudices that the no-maj communities have lost to some extent. My family is Creole and, outside of school, I didn’t really socialize with people who weren’t. Creoles live in the Quarter and go to Mass at St. Louis, Americans live across Canal Street and attend church at First Magical Baptist, the Irish live in the Channel and go to their local Catholic church, and so on. If I had wanted to change that, make a different decision, -hell, if I had wanted to move out of the Quarter- the social pressure would’ve been intense.”

“Americans? Aren’t you all American?” Lupin smiled.

“Now, yes, but again, the Creole magical community holds to a lot of older, traditional prejudices. There’s a pecking order- a superiority complex. We were the original colonists. I’ve always been taught to identify as Creole first, American second.” 

“What’s Cajun?”

Charlotte blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“What does the word Cajun refer to?” 

Charlotte’s smile felt tight. “Of French heritage from outside of the city.”

Professor Binns nodded. “I thought it was food.”

Charlotte breathed deep. “It means that too.”

The Headmistress sighed loudly and set her hands on the table with some amount of finality. “I think we’ve all asked too much of our new colleague already. She’ll be here past today so you can ask more questions at a later date.”

Professor Sinistra smiled. “New Orleans sounds fascinating.”

Charlotte ducked her head. “NOLA is unlike anywhere else in the US. It’s truly unique.”

“Why are you in Scotland then, I wonder?”

The air left the room with a whimper. The Headmistress rubbed at her face.

Charlotte nodded, biting at her lip, glancing over at Snape. There was a part of her that wanted to be honest and another, larger part that wanted to meet his sarcasm head-on. 

The latter part won. 

“The weather.”

Professor Sprout snorted.

He hummed, eyes on hers. “You’ll be disappointed then.”

She chuckled. “I already am. It was summer when I left NOLA this morning. I should’ve kept a jacket out when I packed. ‘Bout near froze.”

“Disappointed and of delicate constitution.” Snape sighed dramatically. “You’re not likely to last long here.”

The Headmistress's jaw clenched. “Severus.”

“I’m cold-natured, sure.” She shrugged, smiling the edgy little smile that used to irritate Beau. Despite the obvious being exactly what she meant, she clarified for the sake of professionalism. “I do get cold easily, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m delicate.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I wouldn’t worry about my longevity, I have survived much more frigid climes. I’m tougher than I look.”

Severus made a face that communicated clearly that he didn’t believe her. “I’m sure.”

She hummed. She wasn’t going to let him goad her into revealing more about herself than she was ready to share.

Professor Lupin glanced between the two of them. “At the risk of being nosy, why did you decide to move to Scotland?”

She considered Professor Lupin and saw Snape watch her out of the corner of her eye. After a moment, she shrugged. “The magical community of NOLA isn’t small, per say, but it is insulated and very interconnected.“ She paused and looked at Snape again. “I felt a little stifled at home, I guess. Needed a new environment.”

“A new environment for what?” Snape traced the wood grain of the table with a single long finger.

She bit back the urge to shock him with an absurd lie. “To grow, develop. A bit like a houseplant, I needed a new pot.”

Professor Sprout made a pleased sound.

“You felt stifled in a city with the culture and history you’ve spent the last hour describing?” He demurred sarcastically. “Your new pot may be a mite small.”

“I’m sure it’ll be alright. After all, it seems big enough for the current residents.” She lowered her chin, eyeing him from under her lashes. “If such illustrious company can grow to fit such a space, I’m sure I will do alright.”

Professor Lupin choked on his wine. Professor Flitwick dropped his silverware with a clatter. Hagrid froze as if he was in the presence of a predator.

“Touché, Ms. de Vilierè.” Snape nodded. 

Part 2

[jitteryfool]

Honestly, what particularly breaks my heart even more about Domi and her character is just the... almost thoughtless, lighthearted way Domi’s family are hurting her. Their treatment of her is depicted different from how bad families are normally depicted in media. Veronica and Antoine don’t seem to go out of their way to hurt Domi or put much effort into persecuting her, they just don’t really think of her at all until she happens to be there at the moment. In a way, it probably hurts Domi even more, the way she is completely invisible to them.

They don’t consciously ignore her or insult her - and it’s exactly these little, dismissive moments that hurt the most. For her siblings, Domi doesn’t even seem worth any kind of attention, whether positive or negative. 

Louis may have been tossed aside and erased from the family tree, but their treatment of Domi isn’t much different except for the fact they at least acknowledge her as a De Sade.

And it’s something I just - well, appreciate seems like the wrong word, but these inconspicious kinds of abuse are rarely shown and properly adressed or taken seriously in media, they aren’t dramatic, grand moments that everyone from a mile away can recognize as abusive. Instead, they are quiet, almost blink-and-you-miss-it, yet just as much hurtful, and sometimes even more messy to deal with because it takes people so much longer to realize and recognize it as harmful.

And the perhaps lack of ‘malice’ with which the De Sade siblings treat Domi makes it just worse, the way they keep smashing and shattering her confidence without a single care in the world. 

It’s a silent killer, one Domi had been suffering under for years.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter.  I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her.  It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point.  I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test.  It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again.  At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.”  I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it.  Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide.  I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead.  She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca.  She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After.  It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time.  But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out.  As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could.  And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way.  Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust.  It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that.  Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek.  He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger.  It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used.  We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2.  Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics.  Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case.  The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out!  With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him.  It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty.  I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL.  Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work.  Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

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[lynzuglyliar]

Lindsey Way: Art Thief

It has been brought to our attention (thanks for all the messages!) that Lindsey Way has been accused of plagiarism. This came to light when Twitter user @/ieroist posted the following tweet on 19th December:

The image on the left of this tweet is ‘Magical Contamination’ mould art by Antoine Bridier-Nahmias. The image on the right is cover art for Gerard Way’s record ‘Getting Down the Germs’ painted by Lindsey Way.

‘Getting Down the Germs’ was released in November 2018. It was never acknowledged that the cover art to match the record was copied inspired by Antoine Bridier-Nahmias’s artwork from 2012.

Even the original artist was unaware of Lindsey using his work:

However, there is no way that Lindsey was unaware of who the creator was. A quick reverse image search throws up hundreds of images, articles, interviews etc. crediting the artist, Antoine Bridier-Nahmias.

Yet again, My Chemical Romance fans are left disappointed by the actions of Lindsey. Here are some of the reactions to this latest revelation:

We think it’s important to note that this isn’t actually the first time that Lindsey has taken someone’s work and passed it off as her own without giving credit to the original creator.

Remember when Steve, Righ? cheated on his wife with Lindsey? One of the artefacts from this affair was later used in the ‘Shitty Teen’ art show. The letter used in the piece ‘Rad Witch’ was written by Steve and given to Lindsey during their affair in 2004 as confirmed by Steve’s wife, Lucinda Montano:

Although Steve will likely never admit to this, and whilst we cannot confirm whether he gave his permission, Lindsey used his letter in her artwork (for profit) without crediting him.

Speaking of Shitty Teen…

Remember when Lindsey’s long-term friend, Amanda called her a “fucking piece of shit”? Well, Lindsey used Amanda’s high school letter in the art piece ‘I Wanna be a Star’.

This is the first time to our knowledge that Lindsey was publicly called out by the original creator for using their work without giving credit. As the following Instagram posts show, Amanda’s handwriting was reproduced in Lindsey’s art that was subsequently sold to famous director, Kevin Smith.

To add insult to injury, Lindsey then dropped her friend of 20+ years for no apparent reason.

Since our last post documenting the breakdown of Lindsey and Amanda’s friendship, Amanda has backtracked on these claims, and Lindsey has deigned to like a couple of her posts. Leading Amanda to delete some of her posts and edit previous captions. Luckily, we got the screenshots first:

Before:

After:

And don’t even get us started on this…

They say that imitation is the best form of flattery, so what’s plagiarism then?

Looks like Lindsey Way has been caught out again, stay tuned for more.

[keepthyfaithandthylight]

Reincarnation au part 3

After quite the tiring day, Max at last got to walk around the city as he always did. That is when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Max wasn’t necessarily expecting any texts or calls, and immediately assumed it was Augustin, and that perhaps something bad had happened.

Either way, I should probably check it.

He then sat down on the nearest bench, and pulled out his phone. To his surprise, however, the message was not from Augustin.

Camille:

It’s been a while since we last talked, figured I would check in on you and remind you that I haven’t forgotten you. How’s school going this year?

Max swallowed his joy upon seeing the name. It wasn’t necessarily proper to start giggling like a school child with pure excitement in the middle of the street, after all.

‘School is.. different. Glad to hear from you though. How’s Lucile?’

Max watched the people rush by as he waited for a response, and as usual he did not have to wait long to receive one.

Camille:

She’s good! Really stressed though, she and her mom are trying to plan. I've tried helping but I’m not really good at that kind of stuff. At this point I’m just moral support lol.

Max chuckled, he could see it perfectly. All of them gathered around the kitchen table, making input. Lucile was probably the one to tell him to simply be moral support.

‘Oh? Well I’m glad to hear that she’s doing well aside from that. How about you?’

Max stared, and almost immediately the dots popped up on screen. Most of the time, Camille was good at responding in a timely manner.

Camille:

I’m doing good myself, mostly just over the moon excited. I had something to ask of you, Max.

Max frowned. The phrasing was worrying.

‘What would that happen to be?’

He asked, and then there was a pause of about 30 seconds before the dots popped up again.

Camille:

Well, you’ve been a really good friend of mine for years now so I was figuring maybe you could, you know, be best man at the wedding. Totally your choice, of course.

Max began to smile, already typing out his response.

‘Of course I’ll be best man at your wedding, Camille. Why you’d think you even have to ask is beyond me, you could have simply told me to be best man at your wedding and I would have agreed.’

He chuckled, lightly. It was true, of course.

Camille:

Lol. It’s polite to do, I figured you wouldn’t really want to if you were voluntold. Anyway, have you gotten a replacement for me yet? Haha

Max rolled his eyes at Camille’s wording. If he was there he would most likely be smacking him upside the head.

‘Yeah, and Camille stop saying replacement. No person is replaceable.’

The dots began immediately.

Camille:

Alright whatever you say Socrates. I’ll have to message you later, needed for moral support again.

Max chuckled once more at his phone.

‘Alright, take care. Tell Lucile I said hello.’

He watched as ‘read’ appeared under the text, before sliding his phone back into his pocket and standing to his feet.

Mind as well get some more coffee.

Slowly, he made his way down the street, to the coffee shop that he always visited. The bell jingled as he opened the door, and the barista looked up.

“Max! It’s been a few months!” She called, happily, her cheeks nearly split with the grin on her face. He smiled back at her and nodded. “The usual?” She asked, and he nodded once more.

“I’m surprised you remember.” Max commented, amused, watching the barista hurry around like a bee.

“Oh please, that’s one of the most common drinks I make. Probably because you’ve always been the most frequent customer. I’m pretty sure you have a caffeine addiction.” The young girl commented, with a shrug.

“Perhaps, but hey it won’t kill me so I don’t see a problem with it.” Max replied, returning her shrug, watching as the girl snickered.

“Well if you drink too much at one time it will.” She stated, with an amused expression, the bleached ends of her hair falling in front of her face. “Either way, more business for my manager I suppose.” She sighed, Max seeing an opportunity for humor.

“All I am to you is a paycheck?” He asked, mischievously, earning an eyeroll from the barista.

“No, Max, you’re my friend. I was making a point.” She replied, before handing him his cup of coffee. “$9.57.” Max dug around in his pocket for his wallet.

“Let me tell you I have had the strangest day today.” He said, and the girl looked up with a raised brow, only for a moment.

“How so?” She asked, returning to busying herself cleaning.

“Well it’s mostly my art history teacher, she seems normal aside from the fact that she acts like she knows something I don’t. About myself.” He replied, already drinking a swig of coffee.

“Hmm.. maybe she’s a witch.” Commented the barista, sounding abnormally serious in her comment.

“I doubt that, but..” Max responded, holding his coffee close to his chest.

“I was joking.”

“Oh.” He chuckled lightly at his misstep, smiling fondly to himself. Just then, the bell jingled as a seemingly overworked man walked in. He looked strangely familiar, but again a lot of people did to Max at this point. “I’ll get going, it was lovely seeing you again Sandy!” He called, already halfway out the door.

“You too Max!” Replied the girl, before turning to the hunched over man.

Ok. What on Earth is happening.

***

“-yeah, I would say that is pretty weird. Though, the same thing has happened to me a few times so I wouldn’t say it’s out of the ordinary too much.” Said Antoine, who sat aggressively drying his hair with a towel.

“That’s reassuring.” Said Max, tiredly, as he stared up at the ceiling. “But why is it happening? It’s like some weirdly intense deja vu that only happens in certain situations with certain people. I don’t think I like it at all.” He continued, desperate for some sort of answer. Obviously he wasn’t expecting one, his roommate was not God.

“I dunno, but that just about sums it up. I know that Georges guy has had it happen too. He literally stopped me before I was about to leave. Was really weird, not sure I like him.” Antoine stated.

“Really?” Max asked, hesitantly, looking to the side.

“Yeah. Maybe we should all just have group therapy or something, in a circle of metal foldable chairs.” Antoine replied, with a shrug.

“How would we even arrange that?-“

“I was joking.”

“Oh-“ silence. “Did Ms. Rozzero happen to say anything to you today?” Max asked again, nervously.

“Not really, no. She barely even acknowledged the fact that I exist.” Antoine answered. “But from what I could see she is abnormally fond of you. To the point where it’s weird, like., creepy weird.” He continued, before shuddering, face wrought with discomfort in the situation.

“Now I feel a little better about being weirded out. As in, I feel like less of a jerk.” Max stated, staring at his hands as he sat up.

“Don’t worry about it, honestly, I would be weirded out too. Im already pretty weirded out actually.” Antoine commented. The street lamp filtered in from outside the window, giving the room a faint orange glow. If Max wasn’t feeling so uneasy, he would have quite enjoyed it. “If she keeps doing it bring it up to her though, maybe we’ll all have to team up and get her to stop. I mean, even the football kid noticed, with his sheer size he could be pretty intimidating, and as much as I do not like the guy he could be an ally in this situation.” The younger continued, before looking over at Max with a look of concern.

“Yeah, I guess your right.” The latter sighed, before suddenly becoming his more optimistic self again. “Anyway, wanna just swing down to the Chinese restaurant really quick and get some take out?” He suggested, watching the smile form on his roommates face.

“Hell yeah.”

[punkranger]

28 and 35 for all!! >:3 (I’ll get to the ones you sent me in a bit too I promise xD)

tyy <3 and take your time^^

28. what do they find attractive in others? what’s a turn-off?

Antoine: likes brave people, whether it’s something like fighting someone more powerful or having the guts to be positive in a world that sees that as a weakness. Doesn’t necessarily care if someone looks strong but it’s definitely a bonus if they can keep up with him in a fight. Doesn’t like people who are too controlling or clingy in a possessive way (i mean obviously no one likes abusive ppl but like he doesn’t want to spend all his time with his partner/s only..)

Nicholas: Is demi so y’know, knowing the person is a requirement first. Things that will get them to like a person: caring, shared interests, deep conversations, maybe a lot of stubborness to actually get to know them.. Doesn’t like people who don’t keep promises.

Rene: Big arms for big hugs! people who want to do mundane tasks together, people who will sit with her in silence, or talk while letting her be silent. Doesn’t like when someone assumes the worst of her.

Densil: likes people who are practical, but also caring. Sharp wit is also appreciated Doesn’t like when people don’t return favours, or don't acknowledge favours done for them.

35. if they could have any other superpower, what would they choose?

Antoine: something physical would be a nice change, strength, speed, invulnerability, even flying. Any of those, or more, but something that’s a bit more straightforward and doesn’t mess with his brain.

Nicholas: Something dramatic like some kind of elemental powers, or telekinesis. Likes their telepathy, but might feel better without it.

Rene: Also likes the telepathy but would probably prefer invisibility.

Densil: For him telepathy is the best and most useful power. Might have gone in the direction of divination or like more long term prediction powers or suchlike if he had the choice.

[mobius-prime]

281. Sonic the Hedgehog #204

Heavy is the Head (Part Two): Iron Khan

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Matt Herms

Things have gone from bad to worse with Khan now under the Iron Queen's control. The Freedom Fighters are forced to scatter as he calls down a magical storm on them, and Sonic barely returns from taking Bunnie to safety in time to save even more helpless would-be victims.

Sally quickly explains what happened while he was gone, and Sonic eagerly races forward to fight Khan, despite Sally calling after him not to hurt him. Sonic tries to at first talk Khan out of it, telling him to fight back, but the Iron Queen gleefully reminds him of how extensive his cybernetics are, giving her total control. Snively, still holding onto Khan's power ring crown, snaps it in half while revealing that this was the only thing protecting him before… and then the Iron Queen drops the bomb that she'd in fact controlled Khan more recently than previously known, and used him to wipe out the Dragon Kingdom Freedom Fighters. That's right! Khan had his body seized by a tyrant and was forced to literally murder the local Freedom Fighter chapter, which is why they're no longer around to help. Considering everything else that's happened to him in his life, if that doesn't spell serious trauma, I don't know what does. However, all this does give Sonic an idea, and he asks everyone to stall Khan while he makes a quick stop at the Lake of Rings, which Antoine takes to with gusto.

I mean, as much as you do have a point, 'Twan, again, we're talking about a severely traumatized unwilling pawn here. Sally, Vector, and Mighty jump in to try to help, but Sally is easily swept aside as the two Chaotix grab hold of Khan. Sonic, meanwhile, paces impatiently next to the lake, while Nicole explains that the rings here are created artificially with the energy runoff from the radioactive ruins of Robotropolis, and thus she can only make them so fast. However, when they spot Vector and Mighty flying across the sky like two distant, lightning-fried meteorites, she changes her tune and diverts some more power to production, just as Khan makes a beeline for Sonic.

Man, good thing rings don't need to be forged into shape, huh? Just jam one onto your skull and it'll fit perfectly! Really, it's a wonder power ring circlets aren't in fashion across all of Mobius. Fortunately, Sonic's plan works and Khan comes back to his senses, drenched and depressed. To Snively's surprise, the Iron Queen happily sounds the retreat, content to have humiliated and demoralized Khan for now before her next planned assault. Sonic realizes that this is why Khan had his outburst of anger last issue, and Khan confirms it, blaming himself for everything that's happened here today. Antoine gets in his face and angrily agrees, clearly still worked up about Bunnie, but an unexpected trio interrupts him - Rory, Sasha, and Snaggle, now coming to Khan's defense.

Sally hugs him, Khan and Antoine apologize to one another, and it's really just a bunch of warm fuzzies all around. Seriously, though, something like this was much needed for Khan. In every prior appearance, he's been pretty two-dimensional, being mostly just an egotistical and slightly crazy magic monkey with no real personality. I mean, he originally spoke in third person, for crying out loud. Ian's done what he does best, and breathed some new life into an old, stale, and nearly forgotten character, making him into someone we can actually give a Renfield T. Rodent's ass about.

Back in the Eggdome, Snively pays a quick visit to his uncle, still wrapped up in a straightjacket and locked in his padded cell, to gloat about how well things are going without him, before becoming annoyed that gloating just isn't as fun when the person you're talking to is stuck in their own head. Eggman babbles on throughout the entire thing, but though his words may appear to be gibberish at first glance, nearly every single phrase has some kind of significance. He repeats "hate that hedgehog" several times for obvious reasons, and other phrases that seem nonsensical are actually very clever references to much, much older issues. Several more phrases seem to be made up of technobabble to some degree, suggesting he's not totally lost in there, but perhaps the most significant phrase, I find, is "They always loved Colin more." Colin, if you'll recall, is Robotnik's brother, whom Eggman killed just before Robotropolis went boom. This one little line immediately gives a lot more insight into just how Eggman - and the original Robotnik - came to be who they are today. It seems to suggest that, ultimately, a lot of his awful personality stems from jealousy of the attention his parents gave to his brother instead of him. We know precisely jack-all about Eggman and Colin's parents, mind you, and as far as I remember this isn't a plot point or anything, but it does get the imagination going, doesn't it? It's easy to imagine Colin as the golden child, the grand military general leading the Overlander race to glory, while poor, ugly, non-charismatic Julian gets neglected, fueling his feelings of resentment until he uses his natural talents as an inventor to get revenge and force the world to acknowledge his genius. I'm not trying to say that Robotnik is a sympathetic figure by any means, but many cruel, manipulative, domineering people do unfortunately get their start after facing rejection from authorities in their life.

Anyway, this is all just speculation - this little line never gets brought up again or expanded upon, so it's all left up to our imaginations. After Snively walks away, Eggman continues his ramblings, but there's one more significant phrase hidden in there…

Wh- I'm sorry, but what kind of a locking system is that?! Y'all are currently living in a base designed by a mega-genius who's life's work is in tech, and the best you can shell out for to keep him locked up is a simple slide lock like you'd find in a bathroom stall? Man, you guys are terrible at security. You basically deserve to have him escape at this point.

Friend in Deed (Part Two)

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Jamal Peppers Colors: Matt Herms

Oh, right, back to the whole situation with Espio dangling Knuckles over the edge of a cliff and whatnot. Knuckles asks in disbelief if Espio has really turned traitor and is actually willing to steal the emerald and hand it over to the Iron Queen, to which Espio hesitates and then asks to confirm if he would indeed need to kill Knuckles to take the emerald. Knuckles affirms this without hesitation, and then Espio pulls him back onto solid ground, saying that he then has conflicting orders. Knuckles is obviously confused and wants an explanation, so Espio says that the only way he can help him is if he breaks the Bride of Four Houses' hold over the clans.

Man, I take it back. Ian, you're allowed to be proud of your intricate worldbuilding, but this is like the fourth time you've explained to us how it works through the characters. Trust your audience, man! Espio cuts himself off in the middle of his explanation, claiming he's said too much, and runs away while turning invisible despite Knuckles calling for him to stay. Knuckles merely quietly wishes him luck under his breath, knowing now that Espio isn't doing this because he truly wants to.

[aheathen-conceivably]

From the moment Jo and Antoine arrived back home it was clear that something was different. Antoine had grown quiet, contemplative even, while Jo’s newfound confidence was even more pronounced than it had been these last few weeks. She proceeded to the cabin and then the farmhouse, calling out for Gio and Zelda before walking away without an explanation to either. As she did so, Antoine remained outside, throwing branches into the bonfire and staring at them as they went up into flames.

That was the way Zelda found him - staring forward and unmoving even as she looked to him for acknowledgment. Her eyes roamed upward from him to Gio, who was on the opposite porch looking just as confused as she felt. A sort of sympathy passed between them alongside the knowledge that something had fundamentally shifted while they had sat alone in their houses, unincluded and unaware. Jo reached Antoine first, patting him familiarly on the shoulder as though to awaken them all from a dream.

She had a plan. That much was clear from the start. That, and the fact that the reactions she was eliciting would do nothing to change it. So she told them every detail of Hosa Grove’s offer without stopping to let anyone speak, until she had finished reciting each and every date, number, and location he had given her. But as soon as she did, Gio was the first to answer. “Jo, I-I don’t know about this…”

She interrupted him before he could go any further, “You got us into this mess, Gio. If this is what it takes to get us out of it then it’s what I’m going to do.” He dropped his eyes to the sand and went quiet, which was precisely her intention. “Now it's not the full loan amount, but it should be enough to get them off our backs for a while. I can’t imagine there’s a line of people waiting out the bank. Still, it's only enough with me and Antoine’s money combined, and I’m not putting any in unless I get part ownership in return.”

Gio turned toward her incredulously, his obedience momentarily forgotten. “You can’t be fucking serious. Why the hell would you want any of this farm? You hate it and you know my share is as good as yours…”

Her eyes set and the look on her face told them all that the conversation was over before she even said a word. She met Gio’s gaze straight on and lowered her voice into a cold, measured tone. “You offered Antoine half. It’s no different. He can’t pay the full share, but if we split it, then he and I each get a fourth of the ownership.” She paused briefly, letting the gravity of the choice sit on them all for a moment, “Otherwise we lose the house.”

The very fire seemed to cackle at him, punctuating her words and feeding into his guilt-ridden idea that this was simply retribution, some sort of divine justice that placed him neatly beneath the heels of her red shoes after he had tried to tuck them away at the back of their closet. “Fine,” he finally relinquished, the uneven tone of the word signifying that it was anything but, “The farm will go half into Duplanchier ownership, split evenly between the two of you.”

Jo finally turned her full attention to Antoine, leaving Gio’s defeated face happily in her periphery. “Now, Antoine, what about you? All of this is moot if you don’t agree.”

He knew that the question was rhetorical. Jo had already made an agreement with Hosa, and so he had very little choice in the matter. The deal was nothing without him, and it was the only thing standing between them, bankruptcy, and the fate of the Okies. Even knowing that, he didn’t want to do it. He wanted to stay there on the ranch during the day and wake up next to Zelda every morning. To go outside and see his daughter before she left for school, only to still be there when she returned. He wanted to be home.

But home would cease to exist if he didn’t leave it. His daughter’s dollhouse, his wife’s books, Gio’s fields, Jo’s vanity - their very lives fell on his shoulders and his unwillingness to say yes. Still, he knew he would never make the choice to leave if she didn’t as well, no matter what it cost them. He looked at her profile, which was staring wordlessly into the fire like his had been moments before. 

When Zelda looked back at him she misinterpreted the hesitation in his eyes as worry for her, so she did her best to put on a brave face and looked back at Josephine, “I meant what I promised you all those years ago. Both of you. When the time came for him, I’ll do whatever you need of me.”

With her words, the deal was sealed, and Antoine looked back at his sister with a begrudging nod. He and Jo were going on the road.

[carolmaximoffs]

THE GOOD DOCTOR

CHAPTER FOUR

Ch. Summary: Thea gets a suspicious text from an unknown number. She risks sharing her secret with the team, in hopes of finding who’s behind them.

Warnings: stillbirth, vague depiction of childbirth, loss of a child, Agents of S. H. I. E. L. D. spoilers, cursing, probably some spelling errors

Pairings (bc I guess now is as good a time as ever to add this): Sam Wilson x WOC OFC

A/N: i’m on a roll and i don’t think it’s a good one...regardless, italics are a flashback (in the form of a dream). bold italics are texts, though that i hope is obvious... things get a little weird in this chapter but it’s bc i was watching OUAT and regina’s weird tomb w all those hearts is partially responsible. i’m sorry if this isn’t your jam right away but i promise this isn’t going to be a dark fic! this is probably about as creepy as it’ll get. again PLEASE read the warnings. 

Taglist (which is open!): @marvelousmrstark​

    THE DOCTOR AND THE CAPTAIN dance around each other for a week following lunch. She still hangs out with Wanda, and sometimes Bucky and Sam, but Steve is always miraculously busy. When Thea wakes up early to train with Natasha, Steve is always conveniently just leaving the kitchen as she enters. It isn’t until a Saturday morning that it comes to a halt.

    Tony quite literally drags Steve by the ear into the med-bay, which Thea would find funny if she weren’t loath to see him. America’s golden boy, and she’d been the one to tick him off. She knew he was a cautious man, suspicious due to events in recent years, and even in his past; it didn’t stop her from feeling incredibly awkward after his seemingly blatant distrust of her.

    The dark-haired man releases his hold on Steve and crosses his arms. The tips of Steve’s ears are grow red as Thea looks up from the paperwork she’s been doing, in regards to Clint’s mission injury a few days ago.

    “Talk,” Tony says as sternly as possible.

    “Thea, it wasn’t my place to question you about your abilities,” Steve starts, and Tony gives him a thumbs up while nodding encouragingly. Thea resists the urge to roll her eyes. “I...you made it clear you were just here as a doctor, and if that’s all you want to be then I will respect that. Thank you again for...my leg. And while I do think-”

    “Alright, shows over, nice job, thanks Dory!” Tony hastily interjects, gripping Steve’s forearm and steering him out of the small office. Thea rises to her feet.

    “Wait,” She commands, and they stop, Tony’s shoulders sagging. “What do you think?”

    “I think,” Steve says, turning around and meeting her eyes, “That your powers could be a great asset to the team. Outside of medical situations.”

    Thea realizes what he’s getting at. It takes everything in her to remain calm, lifting her chin just a little.

    “Whether that’s true or not, I’m perfectly happy with what I’m doing. Thank you for the apology, Steve.” Her words come out stiff, a little sharper than she means them to. Nevertheless, Thea shakes Steve’s hand when he offers it, and maintains her rigid posture until she hears the main doors to the med-bay close.

    “I tried to warn him,” Tony offers, having shifted to lean against the doorway. Thea drops into her chair with a sigh, leaning her head back as she clicks a pen absently.

    “I just wish everybody would let it go. It’s not...it’s not cool, it’s not useful.” Thea sits up straight, tossing the pen aside and gripping her desk. “I mean, what would I do with my powers in a fight? Put somebody to sleep? Stop their heart? I’m not...I’m not a killer, Tony.”

    “I know you’re not,” He says softly, approaching her desk to pry her fingers off it. “I won’t tell you that I agree with him, you know I do, but I will tell you it is 100% your decision.”

    Thea manages a thank you, and, bless him, Tony leaves. She closes the folder on Clint’s mission after signing a few more pages and sets it into her main desk drawer. Peering as far as she could to be sure Tony was gone, she pulls a key from around her neck and unlocks a little side drawer.

    Inside, only two items lay. One is a picture of her and her brother, only a year after she’d been adopted. Fury had explained his choice of family as ‘somewhere Thea could blend in, feel comfortable’, and it was perfect. The Triplett’s adopted her within 6 months of fostering her; she was home. In the photo, Antoine stands much taller than she, with an arm around her shoulders and the other wiggling into her abdomen. She, as a result of his tickling, is frozen in time laughing openly.

    Thea sets the photo aside and reaches back into the drawer for the other object. It’s a locket, one Antoine had given her. Though the chain is thin, the charm attached is sizable for a necklace. It vibrates with energy that might make Thea nervous if she wasn’t so intimately familiar with it. The click of the lock coming undone still sends chills down her spine, regardless.

    Within it, shrouded in the gold of Thea’s magic, beats a tiny human heart.

                                                                -

     That night, dinner is a lonely affair. Steve had left for a mission shortly after seeing Thea, Natasha and Sam with him. Bucky and Wanda had invited her to join them for supper, but Thea feigned having work to do; Tony had gone on a date with Pepper. Now, as the stove clock blinks 9:30, Thea settles at the breakfast bar with a bowl of leftover dumplings.

    She eats in silence, only disrupted when behind her, the TV clicks on. A glance over her shoulder shows her Bucky, flipping channels despite the book open on his lap. He doesn’t acknowledge her, however, so Thea returns to her meal, until her phone pings in her back pocket.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

    Thea frowns at the device, but opens the message anyways.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

Funny how the good doctor avoids her powers

with friends, but not with family.

    Thea’s heart begins to pound. Not only had she made sure she was alone earlier, and every time she went into her drawer, but the key is always with her. Any assistants Tony hired had never even been through the office - it was really only for paperwork, anyways, and they always left it on the desk for Thea to go through later. She feels nauseous, suddenly: the only other person on Earth who knew about the locket, and it’s true nature, was dead.

    “You alright, Doc?” Comes a voice, and Thea jumps. She swallows as Bucky eyes her curiously, slipping her phone back into her pocket and nodding.

    “Yeah, I...yes. I’m good,” Thea replies, but her voice quivers just enough that Bucky grips her arm as she moves past him to put her bowl in the sink.

    “Thea-” He tries, but Thea pulls her arm away, giving him a tight, apologetic smile.

    “Bucky, I’m fine. Seriously.” Thea insists before she ducks out of the kitchen. She can’t shake the feeling of his gaze, half pity and half suspicion, even as she shuts her bedroom door. After a moment of thought, she locks it, for good measure, and closes every curtain. No chances taken. She showers and changes from scrubs to sweats, and as she settles into her pillows she pulls out her phone again.

     But not with family.

     Thea still feels nauseous, and without even thinking, she types out a response.

                                                                                                           Who is this?

    There’s no immediate answer. Thea groans as she shuts her light off and tosses the phone aside. She tosses and turns until finally falling into nightmares.

                                                                     -

    2014

    Thea laughs as Antoine crouches to coo over her quickly growing stomach. One month from her due date, but her brother has been devoted to her child from the moment Thea found out she was pregnant. She hadn’t even thought she could have children, nor had she really thought about them with the insane hours she worked, but she too was excited.

    “Hi little bugger,” He whispers. Thea scolds him for language, but he ignores her. “I’m your Uncle Trip. We’re gonna be best friends, ‘cause your mama’s gotta be strict.”

    Thea flicks his forehead, and he only smiles up at her before rising to his feet.

    “I’m sorry,” He starts, and Thea collapses dramatically back into her couch. “About Ward. If we had- if I had known, Dot, you know-”

    “Ant, it’s fine. Not your fault at all,” Thea tries to reason with him, but since learning of Grant’s true nature, she’d been struggling as well. Her long-time boyfriend had seemed so...so wonderful. Though Thea tried not to think about how he had seemed, tried not to think about him at all; it just spiraled until she was left wondering how much of it was lies.

    Suddenly, she cries out, and Antoine rushes to her as she doubles over. His voice floats in and out of focus, the pain consuming her.

    “Dot? Hey, Dot, what’s up? Dor…”

     Thea feels only as if she blinks, and when she opens her eyes, she’s in a hospital bed. She’s hooked to various machines, and the room itself is crowded with people. Sound is still distorted, but Antoine is right by her side, gripping her hand. It’s a small relief.

    “It’s too soon,” Thea protests as an unfamiliar woman crouched by her feet  tells her to push. She doesn’t notice that she can only hear one heart monitor beeping. “Please, it’s too soon-”

    With further insistence, Thea pushes anyways, the promise of ending the pain too tempting. A scream tears from her throat. It feels like only minutes before she feels all pressure lift; she'd done it. Yet the cry she expects does not come. She fees . Thea holds onto her brother’s hand for dear life.

    “Ant? What’s happening? What’s wrong?” She whimpers, but Antoine is asking the doctors the same questions. Finally, they file out slowly, until only one doctor remains, a nurse standing just behind her, almost out of sight.

    “Ms. Triplett, we are so sorry. Your son...was stillborn. You can...you can still hold him if you’d like.”

    Thea’s body is wracked with sobs, but she holds her hands out regardless. The nurse places her unmoving child, swaddled with his eyes closed, into her arms. Antoine wraps an arm around her shoulders as Thea lets go of his hand to hold her son’s. The doctor mentions something about giving her time, and she and the nurse file out.

    “He’s perfect,” Thea whispers. She stares down at where her dark fingers encase his tiny tan hand, and her crying ceases. A deep determination settles into her bones. “I want to keep him.”

    “Thea.” Antoine gasps, alarmed, but she looks up at him with pleading eyes.

     “Please. Please, Ant, you know I would never ask you anything like this but I-he’s my son.”

    And as Antoine takes up a stray scalpel, Thea’s heart shatters all over again.

                                                                   -

    Thea jerks into a sitting position, gasping for breath. Her hands scramble for the key, feeling it still secure around her neck. Without thinking, she slides her feet into slippers and races from her room. She’s almost to the elevator when someone calls her name.

    “Thea?”

    It’s Sam, voice raspy from sleep. He’s still in his tactical suit, though without wings and goggles, evidently having been so wiped out he hadn’t changed. They must’ve just gotten back, then.

    “Sam,” she replies breathlessly. Thea struggles to tamp down the panic trying to eat her alive as he emerges fully from his bedroom, making his way to her. “I thought you had a mission.”

    “Just an in and out thing,” He replies, rubbing his eyes. “Are you alright? It’s 2:30.”

    “Oh, yeah, I’m great,” Thea lies, forcing a small laugh. Sam doesn’t look like he believes her, but she presses on. “Just heading to the kitchen, glass of water, you know.”

    “Then I’ll join you,” Sam says, taking another step towards her, and Thea’s heart feels ready to burst from her chest.

    “No!” Sam looks taken aback. His usually laid-back demeanor is uneasy. Thea gulps, fingers coming back up to twist into the chain of her necklace. “I mean, no, thank you. I also left something, um, downstairs, in my, my office so really, you should go back to bed. Need some rest.”

    She forces a laugh, but Sam only sighs, running a hand over his face. “Show me.”

    Thea swallows the bile rising in her throat and tries to steady her breathing as he follows her to the elevator. No more words are spoken as they walk down the hallway past the garage, Tony’s lab, and enter the medbay. Thea takes the key from around her neck as they enter the tiny back office. He crosses his arms expectantly as she unlocks the drawer.

    The locket nearly slips from her trembling hands, so Sam takes it instead, and Thea can’t find it in her to protest. He opens it, and closes it almost right after, staring at Thea with wide eyes.

     “What...the fuck?” Sam whispers, and Thea feels her eyes burn with tears. “Is…is that-”

    He struggles to get the words out, and Thea lets the first tears roll as she nods. Sam silently sets the locket back in the drawer and shuts it. “Who?”

    Thea takes a deep, shaky breath. An understanding seems to have grown between them, though Thea isn’t sure she wants him to voice it out loud. She squeezes her eyes shut to try to block out the semi-horrified look on his face.

    “It’s my son’s.”

                                                              -

    Thea swears Sam to secrecy, but he only agrees on the condition that she’ll tell the team as soon as she can.They return to their separate rooms, Thea with the locket clasped securely about her neck. Sure she won’t be able to sleep, not now, not when someone...two someones now know her secret. She opts instead to perch in the bay window of her bedroom, staring out over the city. Thea loses exact track of time as she immerses herself in thoughts, and the sun shines high above the city when FRIDAY’s voice reaches her ears.

    “Dr. Triplett, Boss wishes you’d join the team in the living room, please.” 

    Thea, habitually, tightens her fingers around the key, and now the locket as well. Quickly, she changes from her sleep shirt into a pullover and jeans, opting to head downstairs barefoot. As FRIDAY had said, the entire team is already spread out across the living room. Tony rises to his feet to guide Thea to sit next to him before clearing his throat.

   “Birdbrain said you had something to tell us, but I knew if you’d kept something from me it must be serious,” Tony explains, and Thea finds herself nodding. “Didn’t want to uh, make you feel under any more pressure with a conference room.” 

    Thea nods, hesitating. She takes the beat of silence to look over everyone, feeling almost as if it was the day she’d arrived. Wanda is curled up to Vision, Natasha and Steve taking up the rest of Tony and Thea’s couch. Steve’s sat forward, elbows rested on his knees, already intently listening. Bucky lingers in the kitchen doorway. Rhodey and Sam, too, are on their feet, and when she meets his eyes, Sam gives her an encouraging nod. The surgeon is unable to voice the truth, not without any leeway. She unhooks the locket from her neck and opens it.

    The moment Thea does this, gasps and murmurs flood the room. After just a few seconds, once she was sure everyone had seen it’s contents, she closes the locket and gently sets it into her lap. Tony is floundering beside her, but Thea speaks first. 

    “That is my son’s heart,” She croaks, a little surprised at the brokenness of her voice. She finds herself meeting Sam’s eyes as she speaks, as she hadn’t even explained it to him last night. 

   “He was stillborn and...I didn’t handle it very well.” Thea continues. She thinks Rhodey mutters an ‘obviously’, but he’s quickly shushed. A sob builds in her throat as she talks, but she fights it. “My brother was there...he um, he had some medical training as well, he...he took out the heart for me, and I healed my son’s body so they wouldn’t suspect anything. He’d never had a heartbeat to begin with s-so nobody said anything. His body was cremated. A year later, my brother died. He was the only person who knew about...about Philip’s heart.” 

   To Thea’s shock, Natasha reaches out to grab her hand. With her free hand, Thea swipes at stray tears. When Thea looks over at the other woman, Natasha is watching her with a knowing expression. Vision’s voice cracks the moment in two. 

    “Pardon me but...where was the father?” He asks hesitantly, and Thea laughs bitterly, to their shock. 

   “Out of the picture. He was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent I met through my brother but...” Thea shakes her head, reminiscing. “He turned out to be undercover Hydra. Said he only knew me for me but, he read files on me long before he even joined S.H.I.E.L.D.”

    Natasha is nodding in Thea’s peripheral, and Thea recalls in the back of her mind that Nat had worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. in the past. She must have at least some inkling of what Thea was on about. The younger woman pulls her hand back into her lap gently, to wrap both of them around the locket.

    “It doesn’t matter now. He’s dead and irrelevant. But last night, I got a text from an unknown number,” Thea reveals. “It was only one thing but it...it really shook me because yesterday I had looked at Philip’s heart. And then I get that message...‘Funny how the good doctor avoids her powers with friends, but not with family.’” 

   “And your brother was the only person who knew, but he’s...passed on as well, right?” Steve interjects, and Thea nods. “How did Sam find out?” 

    Thea fights a smile. Part of her felt...relief. She hadn’t talked about this with anyone before, and never planned to. Even if the team was finding out now, she was glad to have been able to trust Sam first. She takes a deep, slightly shaky breath before going on. 

   “I had a dream, last night. Or a nightmare, really. I...remembered the day Philip was born. Or, not born, I guess. I don’t know. But the dream and the messages, I was so shaken up and I went to go check on the locket. The key to the drawer it was in is always...” Thea untucks the key around her neck, “but I was so paranoid...Sam caught up with me in the hallway. Had me take him down to show him. I just...I guess I knew it was time to tell someone.” 

    All at once, Thea’s exhaustion hits her. It’s clear to the other’s that she’s finished sharing. Steve, ever the leader, nods sympathetically and reaches over to pat Thea’s shoulder as he stands. 

   “Well, you did the right thing,” He states, and the sentiment is followed with murmurs of agreement from the team. “Especially with this...unknown person messaging you.”  

    “He’s right, DT,” Tony says, speaking for the first time since Thea had sat down. He’s risen to his feet as well, already rubbing his hands together. “In fact, give me your phone. I’ll see if I can’t figure out who’s behind this.” 

    Thea agrees, though she left her phone in her bedroom, and Tony tells her not to worry. After Thea promises to bring it down to the lab ASAP, the group disperses. Nat pulls her aside with a surprisingly kind smile as she makes towards the elevator. 

    “Philip for Coulson, right?” The redhead inquires. Thea smiles back, a little embarrassed, but she nods. 

   “He was one of the one’s who rescued me as a kid,” Thea elaborates as she presses the button for the residential floor. Nat nods, but she’s suddenly bumped by Sam as he slips into the elevator with Thea. 

    “Sorry, Nat!” He calls out as the doors close. The man spares the buttons a quick once over, but evidently they’re going to the same place. Sam settles in beside Thea without pushing a single one’ she tries to ignore the fact that he’s comfortable enough to stand so close their elbows brush, despite all he’s learned of her. They exit the lift together, not engaging in conversation, but he walks her all the way to her door near the end. Right as she goes to enter, he coughs. Thea turns back to him with a raised brow.

   “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you,” Sam tells her. It’s a redundant statement, but the soft quality to his voice prevents Thea from being annoyed. “Steve was right though, because we can...you know, we can help you now.” 

    Thea bites back a scoff as she pushes open her door and walks inside. True to her instinct, Sam follows. 

    “I mean with the texts, of course. ‘Cause that’s some creepy shit,” He hastily amends. “Although...I do know a little about PTSD.” 

    This has Thea stopping in her tracks. She turns around, arms crossed, to meet his eyes again. Sam’s face wears a strange look she can’t read, but she raises a brow as nonverbal permission to go on. 

   “If you ever...wanted to talk to anyone. Not like, a shrink. Like a...a friend.” He’s nervous, Thea realizes, as he scrubs a hand over the back of his neck and shifts his weight. Despite the tightness gripping her heart, Thea gives him her most appreciative and reassuring smile. 

   “Thanks, Sam,” She says. He nods, more to himself than anything, and turns to leave as Thea turns back to her dresser. As she picks up her phone, she gasps. “Sam?!” 

   His footsteps almost echo as a new bout of queasiness washes over Thea. She doesn’t hear what he says as she stares at the screen, barely registering him so close to her as he takes a look. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER You know who it is. Return to

the place it all began, for it

is the place that all ends. 

[ninjakasuga]

Sonsal Celebration Year 2, Day 7

On the seventh day of the Sonsal celebration hosted by @boundforfreedomsonsal we have the prompt of peace. Something I’m sure many of us would have loved to have seen the Freedom Fighters get to enjoy when their respective series came to an end. Sadly the screw-ups of Archie Comics, Ken Penders well being Ken Penders, and a little of Sega’s own mishandling caused us to never truly see Sonic, Sally and Co. have their day of peace canonically. Luckily we fans can fix that.

PEACE: 

“...It brings me great pleasure to formally announce the end of the war started by Julian Kintobar, aka Dr. Robotnik, and perpetuated by his counterpart Dr. Eggman. Any and all allies of the two Empires created by these evil men have also been dealt with, leaving no one seeking to resume their mantle. Not only has this long, and difficult conflict finally over-.” Pausing in her speech, Sally took a lungful of air, but her smile never waned, as she also purposefully dragged out the pause to reign in the audience more. “All the nations of Mobius, be they any species of Mobians, or Humans have signed a hopefully lasting peace accord to not only end any potential future conflict but bring all the peoples’ of Mobius together as they never have before.” Despite prepping herself to keep her emotions in check, Sally found her eyes moisten but she kept a straight face, save for the smile widely forming as she couldn’t hide her joy. “We don’t have to live in fear anymore, and our world is truly free from tyranny. Everyone gathered here or not, thank you for your contributions. Now… LET’S CELEBRATE WE ALL EARNED IT!!”

At Sally’s last words, the crowds gathered before the stage in front of Castle Acorn hollered and cheered. After ten-plus years of living in fear of an evil scientist and his armies; the planet Mobius was free at last. Watching her people be happy made Sally’s heart glow with a warmth she didn’t know she needed. Bowing her head she turns from the podium and walks over to where her friends waited for her; especially a certain Hedgehog with a matching wedding band on his finger just like hers. As she wiped her eyes Sonic took a few steps to meet the distance, instantly his arms were around her for a hug and their lips met for a quick, but sweet and loving kiss.

Once it broke, her dear childhood friend, lover, and husband all rolled-into-one flashed one of his well-known grins. “Way past speech Sal.” “I started to nearly cry at the end.” She giggled, rubbing her eyes some more. “You’d think after all my practice I could have nailed it better.”

A familiar hand rested on Sally’s shoulder, with a soft southern drawl reaching her ears. “Aw heck Sally-girl, so you started to mist a little. Nobody will blame ya’ I mean fer’ Pete’s sake you did just announce the end to a nearly thirteen-year war we’ve been fighting since we were kids.”

Bunnie’s husband, Antoine moving to stand beside his wife, and as always holding her hand, gave a nod with his own smile. “Oui, as my dear beloved put it, no one would be zee upset at you being over the joy with the war’s end.”

Moving over a young two-tailed fox wrapped his arms around Sally’s waist, giving a squeeze before looking up so his gaze could meet Sally’s. A smirk mirroring Sonic’s adorning his face. “I think what we’re getting at Sally is, you did great, so don’t think you messed up the speech for getting misty-eyed.”

With a loud, merry chuckle Rotor merely crossed his arms as he walked closer himself, the old gang gathering once again. “I think I’m going to have to stand by the others in saying you did great Sally. Personally, even after my stint as a council member, I’d have choked up half-way through that.”

Unable to help herself, Sally giggled, enjoying the banter as she looked at her husband and friends with a playful smirk. “What is this, pick on Sally after her speech day?”

As if on cue, Nicole materialized from a nearby emitter, and reached over to pet Sally’s head. “Maaaaybe, we all just love you and wish you still are too hard on yourself. Your speech was lovely, to the point, but also if I may add, the start of the tears I think helped the audience accept this was ‘finally’ over.”

Looking at the faces of her dearest friends, Sally internally acknowledged they were right, and simply held her arms out. “Freedom Fighters… one last group hug? As a team?”

Without a word, the band of friends all formed a group hug with Sally at the center. A multitude of emotions coursing through each of them as their bond as friends and Freedom Fighters held them together and steered the course of their lives as much as the war that forced them to grow up so fast. One by one, not an eye was dry as happy tears began to leak from everyone and their mutual holding of one another tightened but never enough to cut off oxygen.

“D-do you think now that the fighting’s over we won’t see each other much anymore?” Murmured Tails in a soft voice as the thought crossed his mind. It was one that briefly flared when they first thought they won after Robotniks’ defeat. Of course, now things were so different than it was back then. He had his parents whom he was still making up for lost time with. Rotor still had family in the Tundra waiting for him. Sonic, Sally, Bunnie, and Antoine were married and could now start their own lives. Nicole was probably gonna be busy since she now had a bio-nanite living body and could have her own life beyond the administrator of the city and the nanite colony.

Reaching over, Sonic ruffled the head-fur of the fox he deemed his little brother affectionately. “Heck to the no there li’ bro. We all might do our own things for a bit but we ain’t gonna just treat the other like strangers.” Eye twinkling he eased from the group hug to wrap his arms around Tails and give him an affectionate noggie. “Plus don’t forget you’re big brother to Manik and Sonia. That means you’ll see us plenty since Sal and I are also on tap babysitters from time to time like you are.”

This seemed to assure the fox while smiled and wiped his eyes, his expression much cheerier now. “Heh, good point, us big brothers gotta help teach the li’ sibs right?”

“That’s the spirit!”

Giggling, Bunnie smiled at the scene of brotherly love and looked over to Antoine, a crafty, yet loving gaze sent his way. “Now that we know no boogie-man is gonna pop outta th’ ground. I’m all for enacting our plans for extended second-honeymoon Sugah-Twan.”

At the mention of this idea, the coyotes’ eyes twinkled as he held up his wife’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “Oui, oui  my love, I am how do you say..? ‘All-in’ on this idea.”

The rabbit’s own eyes sparkle with love and plans, lots of future plans. “Maybe we could start planning for our own li’ brood?” When her husband’s only response was to blush but nod his head vigorously, Bunnie laughed and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you, ya’ you big sweetie!”

“Going for kids already?” Inquired Rotor with a raised eyebrow, and a smile.

“We’ve been discussing it a lot, and frankly being a Mom is something I wanna be, so why not?” Bunnie giggles, her cheeks flushed as she rubbed her belly longingly. “I got all mah parts flesh again, and we don’t gotta fight, so dreams and rest of our lives here I come!”

“Speaking of extended honeymoon’s…” Sally walks over and hugs Sonic from behind. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Nodding, Sonic rested his hands over hers around his waist. “Yeah, we didn’t exactly get to have one. Just a long weekend to ourselves.” Rubbing his chin, Sonic began to ponder on where they could go. With the planet free now, sans any areas in need of rebuilding the sky was the limit.

Then a thought hit him, with a grin he urges Sally to follow him. The two make their way over to another group of friends who were like they had been, celebrating. “Yo Knux’!”

Hearing his nickname, Knuckles the Echidna looked away from the discussion he was having with Vector and Julie-Su. Spying the Hedgehog and Squirrel-munk coming his way. “What’s up Sonic?”

“Can Sal and I borrow your island for our proper honeymoon?”

“Excuse me?” His spines bristled mostly on reflex to anyone mentioning doing, well anything with his island.

Knowing how easy it was for Sonic to antagonize Knuckles without trying, Sally interjected. “What he means Knuckles, is could we visit Angel Island and just… have our honeymoon there? We’d stay out of the way, we’ve just never, been there without some crisis going on. All the different biomes and vistas just scream to be explored and enjoyed.”

“Plus given it flies over the planet the views off the edge are gorgeous.” Quipped Sonic, who now clapped his hands together and bowed his head humbly. “C’mon Knux it’s the perfect place for newlyweds to get lost and have a good time.”

Covering her mouth, Julie-Su snickered. “Oh, you bet it is.”

Picking up on this, Sally smirked widely. “Oh? Maybe you can give us some tips?”

Running with the topic, Julie kept on still smirking widely if her cheeks were now a bit pinker. “Well, not per se Knuckles and I’s make out spots but I can recommend some. Although one mutual spot I must, ‘must’ recommend is this tiny waterfall that has a small spot where an overhanging rock creates this gap big enough for two people to stand inside without being constantly pelted with water. Hmmm..” Her cheeks brightened and her body fidgeted with the memory. “Nothing like standing under the falls with your man behind you, wailing-.” Putting a hand over his ears, Vector turned away, loudly and in a very grumble-y voice chanted. “La-la-la-la I can’t hear youuuu!”

“Walkers alive Julie!” Knuckles exclaimed his muzzle beat red as he gently grasped his girlfriend by the arm. “I don’t think anyone needs to know those details!”

Both Sally and Sonic snicker, and yet also mentally filed away this idea and would get the exact location from Julie later. Refocusing, Sonic reached over to pat Knuckles on the shoulder. “So joking aside, whaddya say Knux? It’s your call but it’d be a way-past cool favor. You know we won’t disturb anything nor go where we shouldn’t.”

“Please? We’ll owe you and Julie.” Sally added, trying to sweeten the deal with the cute-eyes routine and a pouty lip.

After just staring at the two with his usual impassive expression, Knuckles let out a long sigh but then smiled. “What the heck, sure. Consider it a done favor anyway since you guys helped bail me and the island out a number of times-OW!” At a sudden pinch, he looked at Julie. “What was that for?”

“They were gonna owe us a solid and you dismissed it? Knuckles, honey, my one and only…” She cups his face, and pinches his cheeks. “You always accept being owed a favor back! Think about the possibilities!”

“Ow, ow, ow sorry!”

Laughing, Sonic waved a hand. “Consider the favor still on, and thanks a million!” He insisted, figuring he should offer if to help Knuckles out of his situation with Julie in thanks for letting them stay on Angel Island.

“You won’t even know we’re there! Promise!” Sally quipped, giving both Echidnas a hug. “Thank you so much!”

Rubbing his nose, Sonic couldn’t help but smile as he looked around at his friends and the gathered crowds all celebrating. It took a long time, and probably more sacrifices than he would have liked, but finally, they had peace.

He closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer to the fallen, those he knew and those he didn’t. He wasn’t a religious sort but the departed were owed respect. He hoped they could rest easier now, just as those still alive could now truly live their lives to the fullest.

[gay-jesus-probably]

So I’ve started watching Sonic SatAM, cause I remember watching Sonic Underground on youtube when I was a kid, and I’ve heard it was very similar to SatAM. I’m only a few episodes deep, but I’ve got a few thoughts already about the show.

For a start, SatAM has made it clear to me that the 90′s were a dark, dark time. Not because of the whole apocalypse thing, that’s fine, but dear fucking lord Sonic is the worst part of the show. I want him to stop talking. Forever. Shut the fuck up. Did people actually talk like that in the 90′s??? Was the word ‘mondo’ a major part of peoples vocabulary? Because listening to Sonic’s dialogue is physically painful, especially since nobody else on the show talks like that. Sonic is the only one who abuses 90′s slang to that extent. ...Fuck, Sonic is the only character that actually uses 90′s slang at all. The only reason anyone else uses 90′s slang is if they are talking directly to Sonic and repeating something he’s said. Also, what’s with the obsession with juice? I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to mean ‘going fast’, but he just keeps fucking talking about it all the time, and I want him to shut the fuck up about juice and just do whatever he’s going to do.

Just generally it’s never a good sign when the opening theme of a cartoon feels the need to mention that the main character has an attitude. That translate to ‘obnoxious dumbass’, and that is one of the worst character archetypes ever made. I feel like cartoons in the 90′s and 00′s were all deliberately aiming for the most unbearable piece of shit protagonists they could possibly make, and I hate it a lot.

Speaking of unbearable, my least favorite character in the entire show is Antoine. But it’s a weird kind of hate, because as a concept, I actually really like Antoine. He seems to be the only member of the main cast that’s actually aware of how much danger they’re in on a constant basis, and despite being rightfully terrified he’s still going on on regular missions. Especially since he’s the only member of the cast with a language barrier, which puts him in more danger than the others (as misunderstanding instructions can very easily be a death sentence, and the others don’t seem very invested in making sure he knows what’s happening). The concept is great. The execution makes me want to hunt the writers and voice actor for sport.

Just... why. Why would you ever think thats a good character. The joke is that he’s french. WE GET IT. The accent is terrible, every single line is mangled, and none of it is funny. He’s such a god awful caricature that I feel insulted by him, and I’m barely even french. I really like the potential of Antoine’s character. I just can’t stand the way they wasted it.

Anyways complaints aside, I am actually really enjoying SatAM. This probably the darkest concept I’ve ever seen in a show. Not just cartoons, not just childrens shows, any show ever. This setting feels grimmer than The Walking Dead. There’s something deeply unsettling about a show where the main antagonist wants nothing more than to be the last thing left alive, and has already killed nearly the entire planet, leaving the protagonists as a small group of survivors using guerilla warfare in a desperate attempt to slow him down. When the show begins, it’s extremely clear that the main characters will never get their peaceful happy ending - even if they defeat Robotnik, the planet is still a hellish poisoned wasteland. It’s going to take centuries for the environment and population to recover. Victory just means that things stop getting worse. That’s some dark shit.

And as for Robotnik, god damn. This might be because I’ve only ever known Robotnik as a giant ham whose evil schemes are doomed to failure, but holy fuck. I was not prepared for Sonic SatAM’s Robotnik. He’s fucking terrifying, and I love it. I’m half a season deep and he’s barely even raised his voice. He’s just got this sinister calm tone the entire time, and it’s extremely unnerving, but works perfectly for such a monstrous character. In his first scene, I didn’t even realize it was Robotnik talking until he turned around; I figured it had to be a bigger scope villain because there was no fucking way Dr. Eggman could sound that intimidating. I don’t know how they made Robotnik so intimidating, but he’s an amazing villain.

Also, I’m extremely into Sally, even if I don’t really like her voice actress. ...There’s nothing specifically wrong with her voice acting, it’s just that every other member of the resistance actually sounds like a kid/teenager, but Sally sounds like she’s in her mid thirties and it’s really distracting. Apart from that though I really like her, although I was... unimpressed with her leaving Sonic to rescue another freedom fighter alone so that she could go running off immediately to search for a clue about someone who has been missing for like a decade. I get that it’s her dad, but there was literally no reason as to why she had to search the swamp right that second. She could have helped Sonic rescue Cat. Fuck, she could have just waited until he was rescued and then gone. But instead she went off right away, which meant Sonic had to leave Cat to go save her and Antoine after they were caught on camera, causing Cat to be tortured to death off screen while the others were busy with shenanigans. And they don’t seem to acknowledge that she was wrong about that.

I’ve already heard that for Season 2 the network executives ordered the writers to chill the fuck out and make the show lighter, so they had to add even more terrible comic relief and flanderize everyone into bland caricatures, so I’m not looking forwards to that. But issues aside, I’m extremely into Sonic SatAM. Even if it’s a few decades late.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 128

This is another chapter that I started with one intention and it kind of dragged me the other way. I started with what Miys says at the beginning as a kernel, and...

Yeah, avoiding spoilers, you get...*waves frantically* this.  Which I am excited about seeing where it goes.

Kudos to @baelpenrose​ and @mustachebatarts​ for this chapter. You’ll both understand when you read it :)

Tyche nodded sleepily as Alistair handed her a cup of coffee, mirroring my own struggle to wake up.  It was the beginning of Alpha shift - roughly 6:30am Terran Pacific NorthAm time - and we were starting our week with an extremely rare mission brief. Parvati and Hannah seemed either anxious or excited - possibly a combination - as the last brief they had received was ship-wide when we announced the lighting changes. Neither of them had ever been in one of the Council-only meetings that preceded such announcements.

Due to the growth on the Council - both among administrators and among Mentees - it wasn’t feasible to hold this meeting face to face in the room ordinarily used for such things. As a result, each Councilor was joining from their respective office, along with auxiliary staff who needed to be privy to the information discussed. For someone like Grey, that would be themself, Antoine, and their current admin, Nora. In my case, it was everyone who reported to my office.

“Has everyone joined?” I asked in my role as Parliamentarian for this meeting.  No one liked the position, so it rotated.

“Still waiting on Huynh, Charly, and Ivan,” Eino replied.

“We’re here!” an entirely-too-awake voice greeted.

Ignoring the laugh that Alistair and Hannah were suppressing, I forged ahead. “That’s everyone then. Good Morning, Council. Today is January 23rd, 2051 Terran-relative time, 45th day of Von cold season Year four Pre-Colony. We are currently two Terran years from Von. Miys has requested that we gather this morning for an important mission update so that we can prepare. Miys, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Wisdom. Good day, Human Council.” I couldn’t tell if Miys had practiced or was operating on multiple minds, but the resemblance to a human public-speaker was startling. “As stated by Councilor Wisdom, the Yjq is currently two Terran years from your destination. We requested to address you in order to advise that navigational adjustments will be necessary within one Terran year of the planet you call Von.”

Murmurs erupted on the conference, but no one actually interrupted, so Miys continued. “Due to the density of systems in this portion of the Galaxy, the final Terran year of the journey cannot be made at our current speed.  The Yjq will need to drop out of relativistic space and complete the remaining leg in realspace.”

“How does this immediately impact the human population?” Grey asked first, hardly letting Miys finish their statement.

“With the sensors operational, there should be no noticeable difference in the transition,” came the answer. “However, there will be the introduction of potential physical hazards once we are in realspace.”

After a pause of silence, Xiomara spoke up. “Are you talking about the potential of being attacked?”

“Galactic law prohibits acts of violence against aide or rescue vessels.”

I heard an explosive snort before an extremely dry voice joined in. “Miys, that is the opposite of an answer,” Evania argued. “And we all know that criminals are famous for their adherence to the letter of the law.”

An alert chirped on my data band, and I almost choked when I saw Arthur’s message: “Oh, I LIKE her…”

“Once we are no longer in relativistic space, the Yjq is due to rendezvous with an Ekomari escort within thirty Terran days.”

“And what is the tactical benefit of that escort?” Evan pushed.

Rather than Miys, Charly responded. “Ekomari are very aggressive, but even more bound by a code of honor.  They view preying on the weak - including rescue and aide vessels - the most disgusting behavior imaginable.  This extends to the point of stopping their own attacks once the enemy is considered defeated.”

“Only an extremely overconfident or suicidal crew would try to go up against an Ekomari squadron that is escorting us,” Arthur finished.

“That is satisfactory. No objections.”

Approval in her tone, Xiomara launched the next question. “What about the thirty days we won’t have an escort? What is normally done on that leg of the journey?”

“Optimally, there is no such period during such a relocation.” I heard every person in my office inhale with dread at that statement. “During this time, there is always an increased concern that pirates and scavengers will attack in an attempt to be the first beings with artifacts from the newly present species.”

“Souvenirs… They want us for souvenirs…” Tyche muttered.

“We will discuss our options once we have all the information,” I stated loudly, trying to keep the meeting going before everyone panicked. “Miys, what other information do we need to know about the final year of the journey?”

“Once we are in realspace, long distance scans and data mining operations will begin for more accurate information regarding Von.  This information will be communicated to the entire Council so that any changes or updates to colony plans may be adjusted and finalized.  That is all for now.”

“Thank you Miys. You may remain in the meeting, as we may need your input regarding Galactic regulations, statistics, or laws.”

“Of course, Wisdom.”

I nodded and took a deep breath. “Xiomara, I’m pretty sure that you and Evan have a lot to say on the matter at hand.  Are there any objections to Health and Safety taking the floor?”

After a round of negatives, I conceded the floor. “Thank you, Sophia. Council, clearly there is a pressing matter in our future, here at the end of a tumultuous era, just as our goal is in sight. We cannot allow thirty days of risk to derail us now. For all that we have striven to show humanity as capable of peace and change, we now need to reach down to the roots of our very existence and ensure that we will not be undefended in that month.”

“Miys, the Ark is equipped with scouting probes and evacuation shuttles,” Evan followed. “What are the chances that we can repurpose those into our own small squadron for defensive purposes.”

“Doing such would invalidate the protection the Yjq is afforded by Galactic Law.”

“Excuse me, what!?” I sputtered, completely caught off guard.

“Hospital ships are only protected so long as they are incapable of defense, to prevent opposing forces from attacking each other under the guise of aide,” Charly explained in a mournful tone.

Evan and I groaned heavily. “At least tell me that the odds of any attackers completely blowing up the ship are low?”

“They would only be able to do so by detonating our drives from the inside.  To do so from the exterior would require more force than a coronal ejection from a white dwarf star.”

That was reassuring at least.

“So we would be safe as long as they don’t board the ship,” Arthur acknowledged.  I could see where his next question was going, but Evan beat him to it by a mile.

“Since we are not Hujylsogox, and are only the cargo of the Ark, there are no prohibitions against us defending ourselves in the event of a forced boarding, correct? Only you, yourself, would not be able to fight back.”

“This is correct, Commander Josue. I am not allowed to interfere in such a matter.”

Interesting wording.  Noah was telling us, as officially as allowed, that it would not fight the intruders, but also would not stop us from any actions we took. I smiled as I felt a confirming nudge in the back of my mind.

“Well, those weapons demonstrations were certainly not just for fun,” Huynh growled.  I could hear Charly cackling in the background before he confirmed to her that, yes, she can play with the construction exos.

“Let’s be organized about this,” Xiomara insisted. “For those comfortable with helping defend, we need to set up anti-boarding drills to start six months out at the latest. For those on the ship who are against violence, sort them into who can provide medical aid and who needs to do evacuation drills.  Eino, Arthur - can you assist Sophia’s team with that?”

“We can,” Eino confirmed, echoed by Arthur.

Parvati and Hannah glanced at each other silently before the former jumped in. “I recommend that at least one person with weapons training is assigned to each evacuation group, as a worst case defense.”

“I second that,” Xiomara agreed in a clipped tone. “Any objections?” A brief, silent pause. “Good. Add that to the strategy.”

“Miys, we need a list of what species are most likely to be found on pirate vessels.  Knowing their biology will go a long way to developing defense strategies,” Arthur requested.

“I like it,” Evan approved. “Ekomari may be honorable, but humanity has survived this long because we aren’t ashamed of taking cheap shots.”

“It is safe to assume that boarding parties will not have electromagnetic vision, as it has been advised that it is quite rare in the galaxy,” Grey pointed out. “We can use this to our advantage, most likely.”

“If we’re lucky to be in the light part of the cycle…” Tyche muttered.

“Administrator Reid has a point,” Pranav admitted, startling her. “If we are in the dark part of the cycle, we will be at a distinct disadvantage.”

“The lights are artificial,” Huynh sighed. “We can turn them on.”

“If I may interject,” Miys responded. “It is not as simple as you seem to believe to increase the light emitters on the entire Ark, Councilor Huynh.  The drain on the ship engines could permanently damage them.”

I could feel Charly’s eyes rolling in my soul when she picked up from there. “We can try to make some plans for that contingency. Pranav does have a point.”

“So that’s anti-boarding drills, evacuation drills, aid teams, threat assessment, and at least a start on evaluating where we stand from a defensive perspective. Once Sophia, Eino, and their offices coordinate who is which group, we’ll pull back up to determine who will be leading which initiatives,” Xiomara recapped. “Sophia, anything else we need to cover?”

“I think that’s the priorities right now,” I confirmed, effectively ending the meeting.  Once I closed out the channel, I turned to those in my office. “So, how do we feel about this?”

“Like you are going to be in one of the evacuation groups, stuffed as far back in the ship as possible,” Tyche stated drily.

“If we get boarded,” I pointed out. “It may not happen.”

“Madam Reid, you are on this ship.”

I scowled at Alistair before turning to Parvati and Hannah. “Reach out to Arthur and Eino to schedule that meeting.”

Hannah looked unsure. “Why are they being loaned to us for this? Eino’s a Councillor.”

The door of my office hissed open and the rhythmic thud of boots walked in. “Because your office, specifically Tyche, handles all ship staffing, while I am being used for physical ability assessments, and Eino literally has nothing to do as head of Education in all this.” Arthur nodded his head in thanks when Alistair handed him tea.

I just pointed at him and nodded. “Besides, this way Xiomara is indirectly involved.” I glanced at Parvati before winking. “It was a clever move, I have to admit.”

Parvati smiled and shook her head. “I can’t even say you’re wrong. That’s exactly why she did it, honestly, on all counts.”

“And that is part of it, too.” Tyche waved. “Work more closely with your fellow future Councillors, and you learn to read what they aren’t saying.  Our office works very closely with Xio’s and Grey’s, so we have to know how best to keep that going.”

Arthur just held his arms wide and shrugged. “I have to respect Xiomara’s tendency to keep her fingers on all pulses.  She’s almost as bad as Sophia that way.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true,” Alistair sighed. “You are profoundly nosy.”

Hannah groaned and threw her head back. “We are never going to be on the Council at this rate.”

“Excuse me?? That’s the point of all this!” I gestured around my office energetically.

“Yes, because you will totally retire,” Hannah said slowly, nodding her head like I was a toddler. “Of course you will, Sophia. We all know it…”

Parvati snickered, covering it badly. Arthur gave me a pointed look, and I could hear him repeating ‘obsessive, compulsive perfectionist’.

I was saved, for certain, weird values of salvation, by Tyche.  She just glanced down at her nails, studying them, before calmly glancing at me. “Charly is dangerously close to getting approval from Sebastian for her proposal of kink night at the Undine.  Think really hard if you want to be on the Council for that, Sophia.  It would be an event, meaning it would come to this office.”

“Yep, retiring soon,” I squeaked.  Laughter erupted around me as my face heated up. “I’m all for sex positivity, but I just can’t fathom the logistics of that. Nope. Not gonna be me. Y’all have fun. Enjoy. All yours.”

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[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Bombshell [B. Barnes] - Prologue

Pairing: British S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent!Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Agent Y/N Y/L/N hadn't known what would happen when an old friend from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Academy reached out in search of intel on an assassin much of the world believed to be a myth. She certainly hadn't expected S.H.I.E.L.D. to fall to Hydra and Captain America and the assassin to go missing.

Months later Y/N finds herself living a double life as both an agent in the private sector with her former Supervising Officer, Maria Hill, and an agent in Phil Coulson's new S.H.I.E.L.D. Not to mention, she located the mysterious Winter Soldier and was now providing him asylum unbeknownst to any of her employers.

Warnings: Violence, guns, mentions of blood, death, swearing probably

Word Count: 2.7K

a/n: This is my first time writing a self-insert fic and my first time posting on Tumblr so any *constructive* criticism or advice is welcome. I’m also super not British so if any of the dialog sounds too American PLEASE let me know so I can fix it! This fic will also be published on wattpad with an OC instead of self-insert so if that’s more your speed you can check that out here!

___

It had felt like any other day at the Hub the day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. Nobody would've imagined that the infamous was Hydra even still standing, let alone strong enough to infiltrate the world's foremost intelligence agency, and yet, that's what you found yourself up against that fateful evening.

You had reported to the Hub as usual, swiftly making your way to your cubicle to check for any new assignments. You may have had a desk, but your job was far from a desk job, usually involving jetting around the world on dangerous missions or organizing and executing extraction plans. However, that day had been a desk day, no missions, just paperwork; you got restless on desk days, unable to stay in your cubicle for long, so you often wandered. As a Level 7 agent, you had access to most of the Hub, something you often took advantage of. Your ability and need to wander had probably saved your life that day.

A graduate from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Academy of Operations, you were first and foremost a field agent, and a good one at that. You'd been assigned to the Hub immediately following your training; you knew exactly how everything was run and you knew when something was going on, so when you noticed the abnormal number of soldiers running through the corridors as you left the indoor tack late that afternoon you became immediately suspicious. However, you returned to her cubicle in accordance with S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol; if your presence was needed you would've been informed. Your cubicle was part of a larger room full of identical office spaces, it was always bustling with noise and movement as agents worked, but when you approached that day, it was silent.

And then you heard gunshots.

You flattened yourself against the wall, listening for anything that would let you know what was happening. You crept closer, simultaneously thanking and cursing the eerily empty corridor for making it easier to hear but providing no cover.

"Hail Hydra." You heard a chorus of voices shout and your blood ran cold.

You managed to peek into the office, though immediately wishing you hadn't. Bodies of your colleagues littered the ground and in the middle stood about ten agents, dressed in S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms with their fists raised in the two-arm Hydra salute. You pushed down the feeling that you might vomit, just as you were trained to, focusing only on your new mission: to make it out alive and save as many people as possible.

You ran to the first place you could think of: the Holobox. Hopefully, you could use the secure line to reach the Triskelion and get help. You rushed through the corridors, staying out of sight of the soldiers, forced to assume they were Hydra. When you reached the room where the Holobox was kept you slipped inside, quickly shutting the door behind you and pressing your back against it, gun pointed out into the room.

"Agent Y/L/N?"

There were two others in the room with you already using the Holobox to contact what sounded like the Academy of SciTech's director, Agent Weaver. You recognized the others as well, Jemma Simmons, youngest Academy graduate to date, and Antoine Triplett, fellow Operations graduate and occasional colleague in the field.

"Agent Triplett," You acknowledged in your clipped British accent, not lowering your gun. You had been about to interrogate the two when Agent Weaver's voice cut through.

"Have your commander report the Academy is under siege." You could hear gunshots in the background. "Don't know how long Hydra's been inside S.H.I.E.L.D. but they're taking over."

Agent Simmons didn't even appear to have noticed your presence, her attention focused solely on the Holobox transmission, but Triplett's attention on you became even sharper with the announcement of the Hydra takeover.

"Hydra?" Simmons gasped. "What? Where?"

You didn't hear Agent Weaver's answer, focusing on the other agents' mannerisms. Either the two were incredible actors, which Agent Triplett should have been as a specialist, or they were just as surprised by Hydra as you. You really hoped it was the latter.

"Trust no one." Agent Weaver warned before an explosion was heard in the background and the transmission was cut.

You locked the door. Either Simmons and Triplett were Hydra and you'd have to take them out or they were S.H.I.E.L.D. and they would need the door locked for protection anyway.

"What are you doing?" Simmons asked nervously, finally acknowledging your presence.

"Either you're Hydra and I have to take you out or you're not and we need to stick together. Either way, I want that door locked to keep anyone else from getting in," you answered firmly, eyeing both agents warily.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Simmons asked the room, looking back and forth between Agent Triplett and you.

"Because I'm trustworthy." You scoffed at Triplett's answer.

Then he pulled a knife and you immediately cocked her gun, as he walked towards Simmons.

"Put the knife down Agent Triplett." You warned.

"Here," he handed the knife to Simmons, "take it. If you try to kill me with it, I'll know I can't trust you."

"I'm not handing over my gun to a potentially compromised agent." You said when Simmons and Triplett turned towards you expectantly.

"Agent Y/L/N, I'm unarmed and she's a scientist," Triplett spoke, raising his hands in the air as he turned to face you, and Simmons slid the knife into her pocket. "Neither of us is much of a threat against the British Bombshell, with or without a gun."

You rolled her eyes at the nickname but nodded, heart racing as you kept yourself pressed against the door.

"Just lower the gun."

You did as requested, going a step further and unloading the clip which you tossed to the man as a sign of trust, tucking the unloaded gun into the back of your pants.

"Neither is very good without the other." You shrugged, moving away from the door and towards the center of the room where the Holobox was set up.

"We need to contact the Triskelion."

"We need to contact our team first," Simmons spoke, booting the machine back up.

"Can't wait to tell them the good news," Triplett said bitterly.

However, there seemed to be some sort of signal preventing any transmissions.

"Something terrible has happened." Simmons fretted, though they weren't left any time to discuss it as the door busted open.

"Show me your hands!" An agent shouted as they filed into the room, surrounding you.

The three of you stood there with what felt like hours before Victoria Hand walked in. Initially, you were thankful to see your boss, thankful she had survived the attack, but then she started talking.

"The rest of your possibly very short lives hinges on this moment. Hydra has successfully infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. at the highest level. It only took seven decades, and today is our coming-out party. We have the support of the Level 9 and Level 10 agents. And those who have resisted Hydra have been crossed off...Director Fury included." You cursed, not realizing how deep the infiltration went.

"I'm here to offer you a choice." Hand continued, "Either you swear unwavering loyalty to Hydra right now for all time...or share Fury's fate."

You looked at your companions questioningly. You weren’t going down without a fight and you hoped they were on the same page.

"I won't wait long." The agents surrounding you raised their weapons.

In a split second, Triplett tossed you your clip, elbowing the agent nearest him and pressing the knife Simmons had thrown him to the agent's throat. In the same instant, you reloaded your gun, aiming it directly at Hand. Victoria Hand had been your superior and a mentor for years and finding out she had been Hydra shook you to your core.

"Cross us off and two of you go out too." Trip threatened and you were thankful for his bravery in the face of what was certainly your deaths.

"Right answer." Hand smiled, and you nearly wavered in your confusion. "The number of people I trust is now eight."

The surrounding agents lowered their weapons but you and Triplett held your positions, you following Hand with your gun as the woman began to walk around the room.

"Where are we on the roundup?" Hand asked, ignoring the threat she and her agents were still under.

"We're moving all agents below level five to east holding. I have men monitoring microphones placed in most of the rooms." Someone answered.

You looked between Simmons and Triplett, neither of them understanding what was happening.

"And our strike team?"

"Has stormed the plane, yes."

"I'm sorry, was that a test?" You interrupted what appeared to be a debriefing.

"One very few have passed," Hand answered grimly. "I'm glad to know you're still on our side Agent Y/L/N."

"I thought we were dead," Simmons said, voice shaking as she breathed a sigh of relief. "You're not Hydra- thank God."

It was the longest day of your life as yuo helped Hand's team canvas each floor of the Hub, testing loyalty and stepping over bodies. You did your best not to look, too afraid of recognizing them, but the worst was when you recognized the turncoats. As a Level 7, you had helped lead a lot of operations throughout your time at the Hub and you had plenty of higher-ranking agents that you looked up to, so you understood the gut-wrenching feeling Simmons must have felt when Phil Coulson was suspected of being Hydra, and you knew the gut-punch Triplett felt when he found out John Garrett actually was.

It was a terrible day, but at the end of it, you were all just thankful to be alive.

"Captain America has defeated the Helicarriers at the Triskelion," Hand announced.

She had essentially named you her second-in-command that day as you were one of the highest-ranking agents left, and so as the sun began to rise you were standing by her side in the nearly empty control room.

You suspected knowledge of the Helicarriers had required Level 8 clearance, but it seemed Hand didn't care and you supposed clearance level didn't matter anymore.

"But his status is unknown." Hand continued and you sucked in a breath.

You knew Natasha had been working with Captain America, you had even sent the pair intel during the previous week. If Captain Rogers was down, Nat likely was as well.

Hand and Coulson continued to debrief the evening's events and next courses of action but you had once again become antsy and began to pace as you worried about your old friend.

"Is everything alright, Agent Y/L/N?" Coulson asked, sensing your anxieties.

"I had a friend who was working with Captain Rogers, sir." You answered, not wanting to give away too much information. You knew S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen and that all of its files had been released into the world but Nat had come to you in confidence and you'd be damned if you betrayed it now.

"Understandable," Hand acknowledged with an empathetic look, before returning to business. "I'm leaving you and Coulson in charge of the Hub while I take Garrett to the Fridge."

"I can handle this, you should go try to contact your friend," Coulson said softly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you, sir."

"The 'sir' really isn't necessary."

"Oh, well, as a higher ranking agent-"

"Coulson is fine." He reassured you. "Besides, I think it's safe to say you're Level 8 now."

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, "I'm probably the last S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to ever be promoted."

Coulson shrugged with a bittersweet smile of his own. Phil Coulson cared deeply for S.H.I.E.L.D., he had died for it, after all, so you were thankful that he would be by your side as you did whatever you could to salvage the organization.

You shook Hand's hand as you left the control room, wishing the other agent luck on her trip to the Fridge before you began your search for a holobox. The remaining agents had begun to relocate whatever resources they could to the same floor as the control room in an effort to consolidate, so hardly anything was where you’d thought it’d be. You finally found one on the floor below, either not having been moved yet or missed in the haste.

You attempted to contact Nat first, but you couldn't get through. So you contacted the person you felt sure would have all the answers, though it may come at the cost of a lecture.

"Y/N/N?"

"Maria, thank god." You breathed out a sigh of relief as your friend's face appeared. "Bloody hell, are you alright?"

Though she was clearly alive, Maria Hill looked as though she had fought hard for her life. Her hair was falling out of its usually neat ponytail and dried blood was caked to the side of the woman's face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just haven't gotten a chance to clean up yet." Maria waved off your concern. "Are you safe?"

"Yes. The Hub is secure."

"Good. So is the Triskelion."

"I heard about Captain Rogers and the helicarriers," You revealed. You knew Hill would know about their existence as a Level 9 agent and the Director's right hand, so you weren’t concerned about divulging secrets. "Have you heard from Nat? I know she was involved."

"Natasha disclosed classified information to you?"

You smirked despite the circumstances. It had been years since Maria Hill had been your Supervising Officer but she had never stopped acting as though she was.

"Well she was in a pinch and I do outrank her; she thought I might have access to information she didn't. Plus, I don't work directly for her boss." You rationalized.

"She's appearing before a senate subcommittee right now," Maria answered, choosing to ignore the fact that you and Natasha had broken protocol.

"Still no word on Captain Rogers?" Hill shook her head. "What about the assassin?'

"Christ, how much did Nat tell you?"

"She came to me for intel on him."

"He seems to have disappeared alongside Rogers."

"Agent Y/L/N?" A voice interrupted. You turned to see Agent Simmons standing in the doorway. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

You nod before turning back to the holobox, "I have business to take care of here. I'll contact you as soon as I can."

"Stay safe, Y/N/N." You nodded before ending the transmission and giving Simmons your attention.

"The U.S. Military is coming; Coulson wants to enact Odyssey Protocol. He's requesting your presence," the scientist explained and you balked at the news. Military involvement could mean either months of subpoenas and court appearances or very big bombs, neither of which was a very good option. 

"Where is he?"

"Helping get the Bus ready for takeoff."

"Lead the way."