#and reminded him of that knife shit he pulled. that he had the privilege of forgetting. i never did. its something have forever.

[grapejuicestyless]

Letter To An Old Poet

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: She would have given him the moon, and he only ever realized he wanted it until she couldn’t anymore. Part two to Moon Song

“I think that you’re special.”

He smiled, hands wrapped around the dead lumber he sharpened with his pocket knife, the scraping sound was unavoidably heard swirling around the July fog. The rope creaked each time the wind blew us into a soft sway, and the grass beneath us tickled our bottoms as we hung dangerously close to the soil and it’s roots.

“You think?” He laughed through his teeth, scoffing softly, the breath between his sighs confirming he didn’t really care about my choice of words.

“I know.” I promised him, looking at the way the moon highlighted his waves and the stars casted a glow over his cheeks.

He was focused on his makeshift spear still, carving away like his life depended on it, like it meant something to him.

The rope threatened to snap when I crawled over to him. I didn’t even have the heart to pull his knives and his weapons from his palms, I simply settled between the bends of his arms and laid contently on his chest. I felt the flakes of oak falling on my back, and his arms squeezed me a little tighter as he worked.

“So needy.” He laughed, because he knew it was true. I would lay between him and a flame to feel the comfort of his touch.

I loved him irrevocably, naively, delicately. My whole self was poured into the glass that was him. Yet, he hadn’t been able to fall in love with my overflow. Maybe I didn’t under it yet then, but soon I would.

“I just want you all to myself.” I breathed against his chest, my fingers fiddling with the loose threads on his shirt, one I was already planning on fixing for him. Little acts of service, touch, kindness, and pure love. All languages I spoke only for him.

“You’re so selfish.” He joked.

“Shut up, you dork.” I love you.

“Oh, so now I’m a dork?” I love you.

I nodded my head, smiling and pressing my forearms against his broad chest. I felt his knife settle against the back, closed and not wielding any threats. JJ would never hurt me, not yet, anyway.

I love you.

“Maybe I should just find someone who appreciates me.” He teased. Did he know how hard I loved him?

“Shut up, Maybank!” I laughed into his shoulder. I love you.

“Make me.” He retorted.

So, I shut him up, and I kissed him hard, in the dark, in the hammock.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I loved you.

“How many more times do I have to promise you I don’t want her!” JJ shouted. It seemed like that’s all we ever did anymore. Fought, cried, hugged, and disappeared from each other’s lives.

“You don’t get it.”

“No, I don’t, please, enlighten me, Y/n. Because I’m fucking confused and nobody’s telling me shit!” He pulled at the roots of his hair, dirt kicking up behind him. We walked along a windy road, the one that branched off from the Chateau. I had simply left the last things of his I had left to remind me of what I lost in a box on the porch. But he’s a leech, and he had to have known I would give him back his clothing, because even as selfish as I was with him, it wasn’t mine to keep to myself anymore.

“You think you’re a good person, just because you won’t punch me in the stomach.”

Silence fell over us, my eyes looking up into his, and his mouth hung open like a fish out of water, an idiot trying to make himself sound like a poet. But he never had a way with his words, that was always my dealing of cards.

“And still, I loved you. I don’t know why, I just do.” I spoke softly, sniffling as I used all of my willpower to not cry in front of the man I swore would never see me weak again. Not after he made a fool of me in front of everyone I cared about. The same people I would never get the privilege of meeting again, because our friends were just his at the end of the day.

“Good, then love me. Let yourself love me, because I love you. I love you more than anything else and I can’t…I can’t lose that!” He pleaded, grasping at my limbs like threads that clung to the sleeves of his shirts.

“No, no. JJ, I can’t. You’re not someone who gets to be special in my life anymore. Not then, and not now. Maybe I believed you deserved it then, maybe I believed it when I watched you kissing her, and maybe I believed it when you promised me she meant nothing, but I can’t believe it now.”

“Why not!” He begged for an answer.

“Because you’re not special, you’re evil.” I spoke softly. “You don’t have to hit a girl to hurt her. And you’ve hurt me more than you could ever have known.”

He could have watched me fall down the stairs, and he wouldn’t have shown remorse, so I wasn’t shocked at the stone faced boy that stood in front of me, confused, conflicted, maybe.

“I still think you’re special. No, I know you are.”

I nodded as he spoke. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say. The girl he loved would have laid on a wire for him, but the woman I was now would tell him to find another way. She wouldn’t sacrifice herself for a boy who couldn’t love her the way she deserved, and she was coming to terms with understanding that, that was okay. Because the truth was, he had treated me like his equal, and so I became that, but I’m better than him, and he should know that by now.

“You don’t even know me.” I cried, pulling myself together as soon as I broke. I sucked up my tears in a wet mess, my knuckles shaking, dripping with the tears they tried to stop.

“Of course I do, I know you. I love you.”

I shook my head, backing away, even as he followed in my footsteps.

“You hesitated, JJ. You hesitated when I asked if you loved her. When you love someone, you don’t even have to think about saying no to a question like that. If you knew me, if you knew what I would have done for you, for us, you would have known I would have never done that to you.” I spoke bitterly, closing my eyes to stop the tears, I hiccuped between breaths.

“She’s my best friend.” JJ spoke like his reason was obvious.

“And you were mine.”

Silence. Cold, hard, silence. It’s what hits when both people realize they’ve come to a silent ending in their conversation. We didn’t have to keep arguing for us, because there was no more us, and the silence was just the fact of that settling in.

I’m ready to finally walk into a room without looking for JJ. My eyes wander over every corner looking for the boy whose arm I hung off of for so many years. The boy who ripped my youth from me, and the boy I will always be thankful for because now I know that only dogs appreciate the gifts I brought for him.

I want to be happy, with or without him. And soon, I know it will happen for me. I am too good to waste my energy on someone who couldn’t love half as hard as I did.

Maybe he couldn’t have. But maybe he just realized it too late for us.

But I’m ready to love without him, and I’m ready to be happy.

I can’t feel it yet, but I am waiting.

[idontreallyknow26]

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU CANT HANDLE OPINIONS (or just facts tbh) BECAUSE THIS WILL PISS YOU OFF. AND I CANT REPLY TO COMMENTS ON MY POSTS FOR SOME REASON SO IF YOU DO READ THIS AND GET MAD YOU UNFORTUNATLEY WONT GET A RESPONSE LMFAO.

I'm actually so tired of Aemond Antis (and just mindless black obsessors in general) acting as if there wasn't any justification in Aemond killing Luce, or even just taking his eye at Storms End like he wanted to.

When Luce gouged Aemonds eye out, Jace knew what was gonna happen. He may not have known it would be his eye, but he saw Luce crawl to the knife and his reaction was not to be like "Put it down Luce" or any form of common fucking sense at all. He literally threw sand in his face so Luce could stab him, or whatever fucked up shit Jace wanted to do.

Jace pulled a knife on Aemond because Aemond called him a bastard (Which he is), NOT because of the rock. The rock at been lowered and Luce had been put down by the time Jace unsheathed the knife. Even Rhaena yelled "Jace!" Because she knew that was wrong. Aemond was never going to hit anyone with the rock anyway, he made threats about burning them alive. Rocks don't just randomly burst into flames yall.

When Aemond lifts the rock again, it's clearly taunting. Also, he had every right to grab the rock. He was being 4v1d. And he even tried to avoid it, he only pushed Rhaena away when she lunged at him. Then Baela punched him. Do yall expect him to just sit there and take it? Being beat by four people?

And even after, Luce showed absolutley no remorse for permanently mutilating Aemond. Even after it was said that the eye was lost. He's a little privileged shit and I don't blame Aemond for hating him.

At the feast, Luce at his grown fucking age, decides to laugh at Aemond. Still not showing any goddamn remorse. He laughed in his face, clear as goddamn day.

It was only at Storms End did he realize "Oh shit, I'm not actually all that it's just I've always been in the company of my family."

And so Aemond, now having the chance with none of the Blacks around, asks him for his eye. Even still gives him the opportunity to pick which one, and only one. He wouldn't blind him.

And Luce, still being a pussy, runs away. I mean, let's all be completely honest here, if you were Aemond wtf would you do? This motherfucker, the guy who stole your eye, didn't feel bad (Not one goddamn apology), mocked you, and refused to pay the debt runs off. People have pointed out that logically Aemond because of how it was cut would have chronic pain. He's lived with that, constant reminders for six years. SIX YEARS. And even before that was bullied by his brother and nephews.

So, Aemond chases after him. To corner him and take his eye? To scare him? I don't fucking know. But they both (As in the two of them, Lucerys and Aemond,) lose control of their dragons and neither have any control over what they do. Even Luce, his dragon as small as it was. Arrax flames Vhagar, Vhagar gets mad and chomps him. We literally heard Aemond screaming and begging for Vhagar to stop. There is no way yall watched that scene and genuinley thought Aemond wanted to kill him. If you did, I think you have some context issues and a possible lack of empathy.

And above all, Aemond showed remorse. You could clearly see he was tearing up, and regretted it.

Do I think Luce deserved to die like that? No. Do I think he deserved the fear, and to have his eye taken? Absofuckinglutley.

Aemond will always be better than Lucerys idgaf. Argue with my giant balls.

This is not a safe space for Aegon stans go away I don't wanna hear nor see you you're all disgusting and deserve to have makeup products tested on you.

[transgaysex]

honestly i try to give my parents some credit bc they have maybe sorta slightly improved (though not by choice but bc they were threatened to do so) but the truth of the matter is that they have really just been cruel to my siblings and i and the only way they ever do change is when i pull something drastic which i dont have the will or energy to do anymore

[forgetmenots0250]

Hello so I was thinking could you do plantonic Male reader little brother x Vance hopper and just how they met and other stuff you did in the big brother one. Btw I love your account!!

Platonic little brother reader x Vance hopper HCs

“Why the HELL did you kick him in the nuts? Do you not have any sense!?”

“You didn’t hear what he said!”

“WHAT did he say!?”

“What are you gonna do? Kick me in the nuts?”

“… okay now that is just FUCKING asking for it!”

“I know right!?”

That was your first encounter with Vance, you had kicked one of those kids who hang around him in the nuts

You were very much younger than the boy who you kicked and Vance so you had some respect in his book

The kid was bullying you for having long hair that went past your shoulders and the bear plush you still carried 

So you fucked him up with pure crackhead determination 

Vance clapped and got you a soda, it was an amazing fight

You hung around Vance seeing how he was a super tough guy and you had a bodyguard technically 

After some time of getting to know him, you found yourself going out of your way to say hi and give him stuff like cool rocks or quarters you took off some guy you kicked in the shins 

You watch Vance play pinball almost every day

Vance gave you money to buy you two a drink

You invite Vance for hangouts but they're mostly just listening to music in a little cafe 

Vances calls you by nicknames like “Kid, squirt, shortie, and shortstack”

Vance helps you with homework since it’s basic and he can help out

Vance picks you up by the scruff and just carries you off to god knows where 

You have scary dog privileges

You’re a little gremlin

You steal shit from people and you saved up to bring Vance to a skating rink and Vance after brought you to a big arcade to pay you back

Sleepovers are a must for friendship

Your parents were a bit wary but still welcomed Vance with open arms

“Mi casa es tú casa”

“The fuck does that mean kid?”

“My house is your house”

Vance has a key to your house 

When Vance sleepsover you share your bed but you two don’t fit so you just starfish style on Vance who is only slightly annoyed and lets it slide

You play with Vance’s hair a lot and braid it and do whatever the hell you want with it

You grew out your hair to match Vance and he styles it and stuff

You get a turn on the pinball machine

Once you won his high score he bought you a soda

You cheer for him in his fights 

In grab n go some guy bumped into harshly and messed up your score and made you fall to the floor

Vance was mad and punched the guy but then he pulled out a knife but then Vance got a hold of it and wrote the score you got as a reminder

You thought he went to far and dragged him out before the cops came because you notice the cashier reach for the phone

“We need to leave!” pulling him by his arm and pulling him off the guy, he took the knife

“Why the HELL do we need to leave you need to finish shortstack, besides this guy needs to learn his lesson-”

“Do you WANT to get arrested!?” he then heard faint police sirens and qucikly stood up

“Okay fine let’s get the fuck out of here kid” he picked you up by the scruff and ran out of the store before dipping into someones backyard (he also stole some snacks as he got you and him out of there)

“Do you even know whose backyard we’re in?” Vance shrugged his shoulders as he put you down to your feet

“Nope not a clue now let’s keep moving or do you want to get caught” he started going over the fence you guys were in and moved to the next backyard

“Wait for me!” you followed behind him as he continued

The police sirens eventually faded out and Vance to you to some woods for the time being

“Welcome to my favorite spot” it was a short abandoned viaduct that had loud rushing water bellow, Vance sat down as his legs dangled off the edge

“What scared you’ll fall?” Vance said it in a very amused tone that irritated you

“No, I was just wondering how much it would take to push you off into the water. That’s all” you said that with a smug look as you sat next to him

“Well then I bet I could push you into the water right here in now without a sweat” 

“You probably could.” you pouted at the thought

“But I won’t I’m not that much of a jerk to push you into a river that your short legs couldn’t even reach the bottom of” his smile said it all and you were mad

“You’re an ass Vance.”

“Ha! That’s precious coming from you”

You two sat at the bridge for hours snaking on the snacks Vance brought (stole) and laughing until you cried 

It was a nice and you noticed it was night so he dropped you off at home and you two parted ways 

The next day you begged him to take you to “The spot” again but that was a sacred place for him, it was only for special occasions like running from the police

“Why!?”

“Becuase I don’t want people finding out where I hide, so you don’t go there unless I go there got it?”

“Fiiiiiine”

“Good, now let’s get some snacks”

“We’re not going to grab n go.”

“WHY!?”

“You know exactly why!”

“UGH fine.”

“Good, let’s go to the one near the movies”

[taesspark]

A Normal Friday Afternoon

drabble #1 from the Spellbound series

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au

word count: 2.2k 

warnings: violence (oc punches jungkook in the face), swearing

It’s a normal Friday afternoon at Hogwarts, meaning everyone is going insane. You wonder why Professor Snape even bothers teaching Potions right now since it doesn’t look like anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention. He even chose a hard potion for the class to make, individually this time. As if making it an individual assignment could stop a group of annoying 17-year-olds from wreaking havoc. 

You flicker your eyes in annoyance at Jeon Jungkook and his rowdy group of friends. They had created a game where they launch the ingredients into each others’ cauldrons, giving each other points based on how close it got. Usually you try to get along with your classmates, especially fellow Gryffindors, but Jungkook has always been the sole exception. There’s something about him that grates all of your nerves like a carrot. Maybe it’s the way he’s good at all the same things you are, but he makes it seem more effortless. Maybe it’s the way everyone thinks he’s so innocent and kind, when he’s been metaphorically (and literally) pulling on your hair since first year. 

It started with the little things. You were friendly to him, like you are to everyone, and as an 11-year-old, you had nothing to complain about. Something changed one day when you were walking past him in the hallway to class and he hit you with a hex that he hadn’t mastered yet. You remember falling to the ground in pain, watching your stinging flesh go boneless. And Jungkook? He was laughing.

You’re no less of a witch or a Gryffindor though. With your limp arm, you cast the strongest dancing hex you could muster. It worked, of course, and Jungkook was known as “Happy Feet” for at least another year for the way he danced around Hogwarts that day. 

It’s a memory you keep close, as a reminder to never trust the sweet smile and starry eyes of Jeon Jungkook. 

If you looked at all of the detentions you’ve served in your 6 years of being a Hogwarts student (and there are plenty), you’re sure 99% would have been from fighting with Jungkook, whether it’s yelling at him, cursing him, or swatting him with your broomstick in midair during Quidditch practice. Because of course he would join the Quidditch team at the same time you did. 

You’re not in the mood for fighting today, though. You’re exhausted from a frankly awful week, and you just want to finish your stupid potion, get your stupid grade, and go to your stupid dorm so you can sleep. 

Your only good friend in this potions class is a Ravenclaw girl named Nina. For a Ravenclaw, she’s chatty, and she flits around you while you grind up asphodel root for your potion. With a quick slide of your knife, you dump the crushed root into your potion. It bubbled. Beside you, Nina bubbled even more, her personality like soda that had been shaken too hard. 

“-and then Emilia told me that she asked Irene if she would go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend, but Irene said she’s already going with Jieun, but Sam told me that Jieun is going alone, so what’s even the truth? You’d think that she’d at least-” 

“Maybe you should mind your business.” You give her a sour look, and you hope it isn’t too harsh. “Just a thought.” 

Nina’s mouth curls into a rueful smile. “You’re spending too much time with Yoongi lately.” 

You crack a smile at the thought of your best friend and his (only partly true) reputation. No one dares cross Min Yoongi, a 7th year Slytherin with a killer poker face. As one of his best friends, you can see right through it. 

“There’s no such thing as too much time with Yoongi,” you grumble. 

Nina leaves you alone after that, thank god. You usually have a higher tolerance for her chattiness and gossip, but today your patience is running thin. Luckily, she knows you well enough to not seem upset at your attitude. 

You sprinkle a serum into the potion before stirring it clockwise ten times. It’s the last step of the potion, and yours is already turning the perfect shade of mint green. You count to yourself as you stir: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

You don’t make it to ten. You were so goddamn close. 

“Oh, shit-”

You don’t register who curses. All you can see is a bottle of serum—someone else’s bottle of serum— being launched straight into your cauldron, and your entire potion splattering onto your front. Your robes sizzle where the potion hit them. 

“Oops.” 

You recognize that voice. How could you not? You almost want to laugh. 

Fucking Jeon Jungkook. 

The leech lumbers up to you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “My bad. We were playing a game, and I missed pretty bad.” 

He chuckles a little, surveying the green ooze all over you. “Green is your color, Y/N. Maybe they should’ve put you in Slytherin.” 

You’re seething. 

A temper is not one of the traits associated with Gryffindor, but at that moment, you think maybe it should be. Lions do roar, after all. 

And roar is exactly what you do. Roar and knock Jungkook the fuck out. 

The room is in chaos: Professor Snape is yelling, Nina is telling you to calm down, Jungkook is on the ground in front of you, more shocked than hurt, and half the class is chanting “Fight!” because the adolescent urge to create violence never truly dies. 

“Take this outside!” Snape shouts at the two of you, grabbing you both by the collar of your robes. “Fight in the hallways, I don’t care, but this is not going to happen in my classroom. When you’re done, head to McGonagall’s office. I’m sure she’d like to have a word with you two delinquents.” 

Jungkook stares at you, rubbing at the bruise blooming on his cheek. 

The door swings closed, slamming in your face. With a huff, you turn around and vanish the potion residue still left on your clothes with a quick spell. You barely spare a glance for Jungkook. He stands several feet away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. 

“Do you have something to say?” You snap. 

He opens his mouth. Then closes it. 

You roll your eyes. “Listen, Jeon. I know you did that on purpose. Very funny prank, absolutely hilarious. Truly, I’m rolling on the floor laughing right now.” 

Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor as if he expected to see you there, laughing. 

“Let’s just go to McGonagall’s already,” you say, posture slumping at the thought of being yelled at by the intimidating professor.  

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, and you see him gain some of his usual bravado. “We were playing a game, I already explained this to you.” 

You bark out a laugh, just one. “I’m not stupid.” 

He cocks a brow. “Are you sure? I bet my potion was better than yours even though I was dicking around for the entire class.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Hit a nerve?” 

“No.” 

It’s like this, for the long, long, long trek from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower where McGonagall’s office is. 

“You know, you don’t have to be such an asshole all the time,” you say, turning the corner. Jungkook jogs after you to keep up. 

“I don’t? No way, all this time I thought it was mandatory.” 

He sounds more upset than snarky, and in your present state of blind rage, you don’t have a single clue why he would be upset. He’s the one who ruined your potion and got you sent to McGonagall’s office. He’s the one who has been a splinter the size of Greenland in your thumb for five years and counting. 

“Besides,” he adds, as if you wanted to have a conversation with him, “you’re the one who fucking punched me in the face. It’s kinda hypocritical to call me an asshole in this situation.” 

“That’s a really big word, Jungkook. Did you finally learn how to read?” 

Jungkook’s face crumples into a frown. “Shut up.” 

“Hit a nerve?” You mock. 

You think getting to McGonagall’s office is a relief until you’re finally there. McGonagall is all but screeching at the two of you. You’ve heard the same lecture several hundred times, but never in such a high pitch. You offer to make her some herbal tea for her throat, and she only gives you the evil eye. Jungkook snorts beside you. You ignore him, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow. 

“Never in my days…”

“...Such stupidity from my own students!”

You fade in and out of consciousness during the lecture, and one look at Jungkook tells you he’s doing the same. 

“Detention for both of you. I will see the two of you here at 9 pm sharp every day for the rest of the week,” McGonagall finally says. 

Jungkook groans. 

“I’m being generous,” McGonagall says. “If I see the two of you acting like violent animals again, I can and will suspend you both from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.” 

You and Jungkook both make sounds of protest, only to be drowned out by McGonagall. 

“I hate to see my own team lose, but it has been five years of your childish fights. You two will learn to be civil to each other, and I will make sure of it.” 

The tone of her voice makes you uneasy. Jungkook beats you to the question that’s on both of your minds. “What are you going to do to us?” 

The fear in his voice would make you smile if you weren’t practically shaking in your boots yourself. 

“As you know, in Transfiguration, I am going to be having everyone work in teams this year. I was going to let you choose your partners, but you two have not earned that privilege.” 

You turn to face Jungkook. He’s staring back at you in wide-eyed horror. 

“You both are now partners in Transfiguration. Sit by each other and complete the projects together. I will not tolerate any misbehaving in my class, and if you don’t work as a team, you will be risking your own grades.” McGonagall stares at the two of you with the smallest of smiles, disgustingly smug. She’s enjoying this, and you hate her for it. 

“But-”

“Professor!” 

“I won’t hear it!” She shouts. Jungkook recoils. “This is final. If you have a problem, you should’ve thought about that before brawling like wrestlers in Potions.” 

You hang your head, staring at how the end of your robes skims your shoes. You don’t like to be dramatic, but this sure feels like the end of the world. The rest of your year is probably ruined, thanks to McGonagall essentially sentencing you to Jungkook duty. Not to mention Transfiguration is your hardest class, even without having to compete with Jungkook. You don’t doubt that this would make everything so much harder. 

“That’s all I have to say to you. Please leave,” McGonagall says, pressing a thumb and index finger into her forehead. 

The two of you file out of her office, stumbling down the empty hallway. You walk in silence, thankful that classes aren’t out yet. You stop a few corridors down, and Jungkook stops next to you.

You look at him, really look at him. Other than the bruise on his face a la you, he has a sweet face and kind eyes. You remind yourself that it’s fake. 

You take a step closer to him, and he tilts his head at you, nonplussed. 

“Y/N?” 

You brush a hand on his cheekbone, where you hit him. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask. 

The hallway is empty, but Jungkook still looks both ways before responding to you, as if you were a car hurtling towards him on the street. He gulps at your proximity to him, how he can feel your breath mingling with his own and your fingertips’ gentle pressure on his face. 

“A little,” he says, quieter than you. “You really know how to use your fists, huh?” 

He laughs. To your ears, it sounds forced. You smile. Checkmate. 

Without warning, you grab his tie and jerk his face down to yours, leaving just a breath of space between your noses. You lean even closer to Jungkook, and a smile ghosts your lips when you feel him moving closer to you at the same time. You wait for one more moment, letting your warm breath hit his skin. The moment he closes his eyes, you whisper, “Good.” 

His eyes flutter back open, confused, and you take your foot and slam it down on his. He all but howls in pain, nearly knocking his head into yours as he hops away. 

"What was that for?"

"If you still don't know, then maybe I need to step on you again." You narrow your eyes at him, still close enough to register the clean linen smell of his clothes. “Do not cross me again. I need a good grade in Transfiguration this year, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.” 

"McGonagall is right there. I could go tell her," he threatens. His eyes are wide, and you pick up on the slightest fear under his façade of arrogance. 

"Okay, do it. See if I care, asshole." 

You spin on your heel and storm down the corridor, leaving a stunned Jungkook in your wake. 

[justlookfrightened]

Special delivery

Takes place in fall of Bitty’s junior year

Holster balanced the stack of boxes on his arm while he turned to shove the door closed with his foot.

“Rans, how much protein powder did you order?” he said, carrying the boxes towards the coffee table. “Like, a year’s supply?”

“That’s not all protein powder,” Ransom said. “The boxes aren’t all the same.”

“I did order tape,” Holster said. “And extra sheets. I forgot that I cut that one set up to make a toga last year.”

“And I got a new set of slides,” Ransom said. “I left mine at home by mistake.”

“You’ve been showering at Faber barefoot?” Holster turned back from the junk drawer with a utility knife and raised both eyebrows. “That is seriously disgusting, bro. We could have like, gone to Target or something.”

Ransom shrugged.

“I didn’t catch anything,” he said. “I don’t think.”

“Better you than me,” Holster said, inserting the tip of the knife into the tape that held the top box closed.

He slit the tape and pulled the box open. It was the smallest one, and kind of light, so maybe Ransom’s slides? He pushed the plastic packing material out of the way and to find a box of condoms.

“Ransom, are these yours?” he said, suddenly feeling a little sick. Sure, Ransom dated around, but an economy-size box of condoms? Maybe he ordered them for the Haus. They’d be good to have around, especially during kegsters. Encouraging good choices and all that shit.

“What?” Ransom peered into the shipping carton. “Trojans? No. I use Durex.”

“Right,” Holster said, stifling the giggle that wanted to bubble up. He knew that. He’d seen the box -- a normal-size box -- in the attic. “I thought maybe you got them, just, you know, to have around. In case someone ends up hooking up.”

“Like put out a bowlful during a party?’ Ransom said. “Sounds like something Shitty would do.”

“That doesn’t make it a bad idea,” Holster said.

“True,” Ransom said. “But I didn’t order them, and you didn’t order them. Who did?”

Holster flipped the top of the box back to read the address label.

“Eric Bittle … Bitty? Why would he need condoms? He hasn’t gone out with anyone since that rugby guy we screwed hin with last year, and that never went anywhere,” Holster said.

“Maybe he’s got a secret life, dude,” Ransom said.

“Like he’s getting out there without us knowing?” Holster said. “How? With who?” “He was away that last weekend before the home opener,” Ransom said.

“He was visiting that cousin, he said,” Holster said.

“He said,” Ransom said.

“You don’t really think … I mean, after screw last year I was pretty sure Bits was y’know, inexperienced,” Holster said.

“You know what Shitty says about virginity being a construct,” Ransom said.

“I didn’t say he was a virgin,” Holster said. “But speaking of Shitty … he and Bitty are close, right? Maybe it was Shitty, and he sent them to Bits. For the Haus. Like he knows Bitty wouldn’t hog them all himself.”

“I think Shitty was closer to Lardo than anybody,” Ransom said. “Except maybe Jack.”

“But he wouldn’t send a box of condoms to Lardo when he’s been pining after her all this time. That would be a little weird.”

“It’s Shitty,” Ransom said. “A little weird is his brand.”

“Whatever,” Holster said. “The problem is what we do now.”

“With what?”

“Unless you have a roll of that Amazon tape, Bitty’s gonna know we opened it and saw what was inside,” Holster said. “Think he’s going to be pissed?”

“Who’s this ‘we’ you speak of?” Ransom said. “I’m not losing pie privileges.”

“Some d-partner you are,” Holster said.

No, man, you're not thinking clearly,” Ransom said. “If he’s mad at both of us, then neither of us get pie. If he’s just mad at you, I get pie. I bring it to the attic, and you can have some.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course,” Ransom said. “You’re my partner. Well, depending on the kind. And if Bitty lets me leave the kitchen with it. But sure.”

“Well, for now I’m just going to put this in his room,” Holster said. “Maybe he’ll be flustered enough to never mention it. But if he does figure out who opened it, I can chirp him to hell and back. It’s a win either way.”

****

Bitty saw the box on his bed as soon as he dropped his bookbag.

He had been about to strip out of his jeans, pull some shorts on and start a pie, but there the Amazon box, tape slit neatly down the middle.

“Oh, lord,” he said, tiptoeing towards his bed like he could sneak up on the box.

It didn’t have to be the condoms he ordered, he reasoned. He hadn’t ordered anything else, but maybe someone else did. Maybe Jack sent him more French picture books, or his mother sent another sweater. But why would the box be open?

Maybe it was something from someone in the Haus. Maybe Chowder’s aunt had sent the shark cookie cutters he kept talking about, and he left them for Bitty. Sure.

Nope, the label clearly had his name on it. Bitty pulled the flap back, and sure enough, there was the box of Trojans nestled in plastic padding.

Fuck. All he’d wanted was to be prepared if Jack was able to sneak a visit to the Haus sometime. Sometime when everyone else was not around and he could get to Bitty’s room unseen. Sure, maybe 36 condoms was optimistic. So sue him. Once he and Jack got together, he figured out that he liked sex.

Bitty left the box where it was and stalked to his bedroom door. When he opened it, Chowder was just heading out of his room.

“Chowder, sweetheart, you didn’t by any chance put an Amazon box in my room, did you?”

“No,” Chowder said. “Wasn’t me. Is there a mistake or something?”

“Only in having packages sent here,” Bitty muttered.

Aloud, he said, “Do you have any idea who might have delivered it? Did you see anyone?”

“Um, no?” Chorder said, his face screwed up in thought. “Wait a minute -- when I got home a little while ago, Ransom and Holster were both heading down the hall toward the attic stairs. I thought it was weird that they’d both be using the hall bathroom at the same time, but I thought maybe one was waiting for the other one? Or whatever. It’s Ransom and Holster, you know?”

Bitty gave a curt nod.

“I know,” he said. “It’s Ransom and Holster.”

Chowder clattered down the stairs, no doubt off to meet Farmer, and Bitty went back in his room and closed the door to consider his options.

Option one was to simply never speak of it. Maybe they -- or one of them, but it didn’t really matter because they were both there in the hall -- maybe they simply opened the package by mistake, realized it, and put it in his room to avoid any further embarrassment on any of their parts.

Bitty was an adult man, he reasoned. He was allowed to have a sex life. His captains wouldn’t argue with that. Heck, they’d tried (and failed miserably) to facilitate it. The question was whether they could accept him having a sex life and not sharing the deets.

Option two was to confront them with the open box and ask who they thought they were, going through his mail. Mail tampering was a crime, wasn’t it? Maybe that didn’t extend to package deliveries, but the principle was the same. He could tell them that if they breathed one word about it -- to him or anyone else -- they could say goodbye to pie for the rest of the semester.

That option had its appeal, but it might do nothing more than show Ransom and Holster that that this was a sensitive topic for Bitty. Doing that would be like putting a big red button in the middle of his forehead that said, “Push me.” They wouldn’t be able to resist.

So back to option one. He wouldn’t say anything if they didn’t.

****

For a while, the topic of the Amazon delivery that mysteriously made its way -- opened -- to Bitty’s room didn’t come up.

Bitty could have forgotten it, almost. Maybe he would have, if he didn’t notice Holster shooting him a curious glance when he announced he was going to spend the day in the library on a Sunday. Or if Ransom didn’t ask him -- twice -- if he’d figured out what his type was, so he and Holster could do a better job of hooking him up for Winter Screw this year.

So the box of condoms, now safely squirreled away at the back of his closet, didn’t tickle his brain much. Or at least its manner of arrival didn’t, not until Ransom and Holster started planning the post-midterms kegster.

“So,uh, you have anything to contribute, Bitty?” Ransom asked over breakfast a couple of das before the party. He had his laptop open and the party planning spreadsheet pulled up.

“Well, I was planning on making a few batches of cookies,” Bitty said. “And maybe some brownies … blondies if you think they’d go over. But no hand pies. They take too much work and no one appreciates them properly at a kegster.”

“I got all that,” Ransom said.

“He meant, like, what maybe Shitty suggested?” Holster asked.

“Oh, no, I am not doing that,” Bitty said. “I don’t mind making some special brownies for Shitty every now and again, when he asks and when he supplies the weed. But not for a party. I don’t want anyone to get confused or not know and end up high when they’re not expecting it. And I don’t want a reputation as that kind of a baker.”

“Wait … you’ve made Shitty pot brownies?” Holster said. “And you didn’t give us any?”

“It was his weed, Holster,” he explained again. “And it was over the summer, when I came up to stay with Jack. Y’all weren’t even around.”

“Jack has had pot brownies in his kitchen?” Holster asked, incredulous.

“No,” Bitty said. “I spent a day in Cambridge with Shitty, too. Lardo was there too if you don’t believe me.”

“See?” Ransom said.

“Fine,” Holster said. “But Bits, we’re thinking maybe Shitty reminded you to make sure everyone has a chance to be protected, y’know, in case the opportunity arises.”

“Protected?” Bitty said, feeling a bit nauseous.

“And lubricated,” Ransom said. “Just a little.”

“Just a little lubricated?” Bitty said. “I thought he left y’all the recipe for tub juice.”

“He did,” Ransom said. “And that’ll make you a lot lubricated, but not necessarily in a safe way.”

“Look, Bits,” Holster said. “We know about the box of Trojans you got. We figured maybe Shitty suggested that we put them out for parties, y’know, to help people make better decisions. Seemed like a Shitty thing to do.”

Bitty paused. He thought about going with it. Fluffing it off on Shitty trying to lecture the team all the way from Cambridge. But if he did that, he’d be playing into the false idea that Ransom and Holster had, the idea that in addition to looking twelve years old when he stood next to his huge and buff teammates, he was as inexperienced as a child. And he would have to give up the condoms he got for when Jack visited.

“No,” he finally said. “I bought those. For myself.”

“Bits, you don’t need a condom when you’re by yourself,” Holster said.

“I said I bought them for myself, not that I was going to use them by myself,” Bitty said. “And I’ll thank you not to go through my mail next time. I was willing to believe it was an accident, but here you are trying to get me to give up my property.”

“They’re condoms, Bitty,” Holster said. “Not the deed to Boardwalk.”

“Not the point.”

“How about this?” Ransom said. “You let us put the condoms out, because the more I think about it, it is a good idea. We keep whatever is left over in a stash for the Haus -- a stash you can use too if you want. You can take the money to cover the cost from the fine jar. Whether you use it to buy condoms or not … well, we won’t know, because we learned our lesson about checking the names on packages. What do you say?”

“Fine,” Bitty said. “If you insist.”

“Great,” Holster said. “Bring them down early so we can tear the strips apart.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n.”

The whole thing was ridiculous, Bitty thought, as he put down a full tray of cookies in the place of one that held only crumbs. The condoms were right there on the food table, arranged in a glass salad bowl. It looked like a few had already been taken.

It was silly for him to have bought so many anyway.

He was still looking at the bowl when he heard a Holster whoop from the area of the front door.

“Jack! We weren’t expecting you tonight! Excellent game yesterday.”

Bitty plucked a handful of condoms from the bowl and thrust them into his pocket.

****

Also posted to AO3 as part of Bits ‘n’ Pieces

[the-peachpit]

Another chapter from the Ender Mirror Series:

FIRE FLOWER SCAR

Romance: Ranboo/Tubbo kinda? The husband thing but slgihtly more romantic

TW: Scars/Constant Pain

Slicing through a golden apple the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board echoing around the kitchen. The sound of Michael babbling to himself in piglin gentle and barely registering in Tubbo’s damaged ear. Sounds of birds outside the open window silent to his brown floppy ears, drowned out by the ringing that would come and go in the left and buzzed constantly on the right.

Tubbo grabbed his right wrist dropping the knife watching it slightly fall against the floor narrowly avoiding his socked feet. Cursing under his breath Tubbo stretched out the fingers of his right hand watching them slowly curl back to his palm. The tips were numb, and he knew it would be a good hour before feeling returned even with a health potion, it would alleviate the burning tension in his charred tendons though. Placing the apple slices on a plate Tubbo turned to Michael in his highchair. Michael paused his unrecognizable speech pattern watching Tubbo with a curious blue eye. Setting the plate down in front of his son Tubbo smiled rubbing the soft cloth they kept over Michael's exposed skull to protect it.

Seeing the small piglin Tubbo remembered how attached he felt at first glance. A zombie pigling on its own missing an eye with skin peeling away from the right side of his face. it was like looking into a grotesque mirror. His skin itched all over remembered what it felt like as it peeled away in large scabs over time. The pain as he picked away large chunks of himself. Until Ranboo found him Tubbo was no better than a pathetic animal fighting away everyone out of fear. Lashing out with his untrained left hand desperate to hide his injured body that refused to heal. Ranboo had lured the monster out of its cave to give him healing potions every day and change his bandages. When Tubbo saw Michael, he wanted to wrap his arms around the trembling piglin and let him know he wouldn’t hurt forever. Now Tubbo made sure Michael would never hurt again.

“Here you go big man,” Tubbo smiled feeling the pain creeping up his arm. Heat radiating in his neck.

Watching Michael’s hooves gently grasp a golden apple slice Tubbo smiled.

Pushing aside bottle after bottle in the medicine cabinet Tubbo groaned standing on his tiptoes pushing another strength potion out of the way. The bottle slipped past the edge crashing to the floor.

“Damn it Ranboo, why do you have to put everything so high?” Tubbo grumbled remembered to give his husband an ear full when he got home.

Sliding the last bottle to the side Tubbo sighed closing the mirror. Fuck. Did Ranboo say he was going to make more healing potions today? Did he forget to tell Ranboo they were out early enough to have one leftover? The pain seized his right arm making him flinch stiff in one place as he willed himself to relax. Standing in the bathroom Tubbo let his gaze shift to the mirror he always avoided. A monster he hardly recognized gazed back at him through thick dark scruffy hair. One broken jagged horn with a gold band accompanied a white horn with cracks that curled around the fluffy mass of hair. Long ears with matching brown fluff almost got lost in the mass of hair just distinguishable. At least one- the ripped ear was hidden. The ear that wasn’t damaged sported an ear tag, the only part of his past he couldn’t seem to part with no matter how much he wanted to. The tag was bright yellow with dark bold lettering that read peace. Being forced into his ear during the festival to taunt him, remind him he was nothing but a pawn, an expendable animal no one was really listening to. Tubbo wanted nothing but peace for L’manburg, he wished he believed the people who said it was impossible.

With his left hand, Tubbo pushed his tangled bangs from his face. Red, angry, chewed up, and spit back out. From the right edge of his nose to the tip of his ears and down across his body Tubbo was walking scar tissue. The eye in his right socket milky and lazy lolling to the side useless. The bright yellow one he had left got fuzzy if he concentrated for too long on one thing. When he first joined Ranboo back in a home Tubbo avoided all mirrors unable to deal with the state of himself. Growing his hair long to cover the scars clothes couldn’t, he just wanted to forget.

Groaning again Tubbo walked to the bed he shared with an enderman hybrid laying down on his left side curing up. Unsure of the time he wasn’t sure when Ranboo was coming back from his lesson with Technoblade. Grinding his teeth -the way he wore down his top canines- it made him shiver every time he pictured Ranboo enjoying himself at Techno’s. Ranboo had denied it hundreds of times, calling it an opportunity to learn potion-making to help Tubbo. A way to keep the family safe if he was in Techno’s good graces. Tubbo knew it was all bullshit Ranboo liked hanging out with the Blood God, but Ranboo didn’t know he had that title.

Ranboo didn’t know a lot of things about his past from two years ago. He didn’t need to know and never pried. Tubbo tried once asking him to not hang out with the piglin and when his husband asked why Tubbo didn’t have a good answer. For some reason, he believed Ranboo would just obey what he said. Ranboo also thought it would be good for Techno to be around Michael maybe it would bring the little piglin out of his shell or give him some comfort. Tubbo was still fighting that idea as if Technoblade could be a comfort for anyone. Grimacing at himself in the mirror he knew the blood god was a comfort to his best friend in his time of need when Tubbo wasn’t there. Tubbo tried to take Techno from Tommy commending the pig to death in a public execution. Holding an ax against his exposed throat felt right, it felt good. He had power, control, all the fear in the back of his mind melted away. His scar didn’t burn in shame.

Techno escaped that day fucking scot-free no answering for a single crime. Not that Tubbo gave a shit about what he’d done the small ram just wanted to watch his boogie man get what he deserved. Eye for an eye, public execution for public execution. Tubbo is certain he is the only man to see fear in Techno’s red eyes and he’d been itching to see it again.

Snorting and squealing alerted Tubbo to Michael being sick of his highchair. Sighing sagging his one good shoulder Tubbo hated doing anything with Michael when he was immobile. The young boy would squirm kicking Tubbo who begged him to be still just for one second. Currently, his right arm was numb to his shoulder with a quick zap of pain-causing his neck to twitch to the same side. Out of the highchair one fluid movement, he could do it.

“I know I know,” Tubbo smiled at his son, “You want out and I can do that, just work with me,” he begged knowing it would be for nothing.

Slowly worming his left arm under Michael’s arms Tubbo held his breath as he started to lift upward. He’d been working hard on his left arm strength holding heavy objects, gardening, and writing with his left arm. To his surprise, Michael stayed relatively still ignoring a few squirming kicks. Nestled under Tubbo’s arm like a bag Michael giggled and Tubbo was proud of himself.

The screen door opened in the minute making Tubbo spin on his heels to a figure ducking under the door frame to enter the house.

“Didn’t we ask Foolish to make this bigger?” Ranboo stretched his back out stepping into the kitchen.

Tubbo smiled looking at the gold ring around Ranboo’s white horn on the non-enderman half, “He’d been busy with Quakity from what I’ve heard. I’ll try asking him again.”

Ranboo cocked a brow and Tubbo had forgotten Michael spitting raspberries under his arm snout squished up.

Lowering the piglin child to the ground Tubbo rolled his shoulder back, “I’m getting good at the one arm dad thing.”

“Fuck,” Ranboo started digging through his canvas shoulder bag, “I’m so sorry, is it bad?”

Shaking his head Tubbo smiled, “Not unbearable, good thing you came home at just the right time.”

“Here.”

Ranboo held out a little round potion bottle with a cork in the top, Tubbo tilted his head to the side and Ranboo used his claws to swiftly uncork it. Grasping the bottle in his stubby fingers he noticed how dull his own nails had gotten. He used to have sharp nails that could cut through the skin too easily. Ranboo held him down the first time he filed his nails down crying more than Tubbo did. The ram boy had sued his long claw privileges to pull thick pieces of skin away from his body. The enderman said he’d never heal that way. At the time Tubbo hadn’t wanted to heal and it was fine with him if he stripped himself to the bone.

Downing the pink liquid Tubbo shuttered poking his pink tongue from his mouth.

“You guys still can’t make this taste any better?”

Ranboo shrugged, “I tried bringing it up to Techno, he seems to look down on strawberry flavored health potion.”

“He looks down on anything that fits outside of his perspective,” Tubbo could feel the right side of his body at least.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Ranboo avoided any more Techno talk ushering Tubbo to the living room.

Pouting Tubbo wanted to continue his regularly queued-up Technoblade rant knowing it would accomplish nothing. It just felt good to make his opinion known again. Falling back onto plush couch cushions guided by Ranboo’s gentle hand Tubbo felt his right side tense up again. Forcing his back against the couch he focused on the way his left side felt relieved after being busy on his feet since he woke up. Busy with Michael, running an Inn and doing maintenance, planning out a greenhouse for when winter made its swift return, and gardening. The day had gone so fast and he’d gotten so much done, why did he still feel like he could have done more? The pain settled in his shoulder and neck making him wince.

“Ranboo can I have another health potion?” Tubbo groaned leaning his head back against the couch.

“You know the rules,” Ranboo placed his slender fingers on Tubbos shoulders, “You have to wait twenty minutes between each potion.”

“Just let me double dose this once,” Tubbo whined, “It’s been a long day Boo.”

“Doctors orders.”

Ranboo pushed Tubbo forwards and Tubbo slumped on command feeling Ranboos fingers kneed across his back. He hummed basking in the massage his husband was always so willing to give. Tubbo had tried massage therapy before with Niki she was sweet and tried every way she knew how to get Tubbo less dependent on health potion on bad days. He never felt less pain though, and slowly stopped going too embarrassed to tell her it wasn’t working. The moment Ranboo watched Tubbo down three full health potions in five minutes like a glass of water the enderman hybrid put his foot down. Hiding the health potions Ranboo took notes from Niki using his strength to kneed into Tubbo’s muscles making him melt. In minutes Tubbo was sprawled across the green couch Ranboo hated because Tubbo found it outside and said it was the color of puke. Tubbo thought it was the comfiest couch he’d ever sat on and told the older it relaxed him. That was all it took and Ranboo gave in when it came to physical comfort Ranboo would do anything to alleviate Tubbo’s pain.

Tubbo frowned.

“Why haven’t you ever asked me what happened?” Tubbo mumbled into his crossed arms.

“Hm?” Ranboo paused.

“Even the day you found me, you’ve never asked what happened,” Tubbo slowly started to sit up feeling a dull ache in his back.

“I figured you would tell me when you were ready,” Ranboo pressed down a little harder keeping Tubbo from straining himself.

Ranboo was too patient with Tubbo who could never bother to be patient with anyone. Maybe it was time.

“Do remember the firework festival last year?” Tubbo mumbled.

“Vaguely.”

Tubbo sat up feeling the hitch in his back choosing to ignore it, “You’re kidding! How could you forget that?”

Ranboo rolled his green and red eyes the horizontally divided bottoms showing, “I’m more prepared this year. I got earmuffs.”

Tubbo played with the extra-long sleeve of his shirt- actually it was Ranboo’s shirt.

Every year a firework festival is held when all corners of the map experience spring or summer simultaneously for a week. The air is hot and sticky with not one cool place left to run to. Tubbo had spent the week in every year since he was a kid sensitive to temperatures. Moving to Snowchester had been good for him he thrived in the cold. Snowchester had four months of warm weather before being fridged the rest of the year. Six years ago, everyone found the hottest week of the year was the same no matter who you spoke to and to celebrate something altogether they started putting on firework shows. Ranboo had begged Tubbo to sit outside and watch and he thought he’d be fine. With Ranboo to protect him, he was rarely afraid of anything.

Tubbo pulled a strong on his sleeve, “You know it wasn’t the noise, by itself at least,” he scratched his ear, “I love loud noises. I can’t hear quiet things anymore.”

When he saw that first flash in the sky it all came flooding back and his vision tunneled. Every spark was coming right for him ready to fall on his head and set his hair ablaze again. Heat pooled across his skin feeling it melt and slosh off to the ground. He felt exposed and vulnerable as red illuminated the starless sky. For the first time in two years, he swore he could see out of his right eye, and he saw his demise. Over and over again he watched himself die. He grabbed his hair and screamed letting it echo in his ears over the bursts. They had set up a blanket on the roof of their home. If not for Ranboo holding his small waist letting him curl and cower into his tall frame Tubbo would have jumped. He felt it in his bones he would have gone out on his own terms because he’d gone out on everyone else’s so far.

“Lights too bright?” Ranboo cocked his head to the side, “I can fix that,” he gently coaxed Tubbo’s hands out of his baggy shirt to hold them.

Tubbo squeezed Ranboo’s hands, they were always so cold. His hands were dwarfed in comparison, Tubbo knows they’d never seen bloodshed. He wondered what it was like to not lose a piece of yourself to others' violence. To not get swept up in others' regrets as they clung to morals that never meant much in the end. Not enough to destroy nations and livelihoods. Tubbo wanted to get lost in Ranboo’s world it wasn’t perfect, but it felt safe. He squeezed Ranboo’s hands gently with his black tainted ground down claws.

“I was executed Ranboo,” Tubbo felt his heartbeat stutter, “In front of everyone in L’manburg during a festival.”

Silence.

Looking over at Ranboo his eyes were glassy water collecting in the corners Tubbo wiped them gently. There was no sense in him crying over something that happened long before they met. Nothing he could change now it was written in stone, but Ranboo made the past bearable.

“A firework was shot directly at me, I had nowhere to run labeled a traitor. The impact killed me, and I didn’t revive quite right. With no one to heal my wounds while I was returning. I was thrown to the side a causality really.”

Ranboo squeezed Tubbo’s hands tighter his eyes no longer held tears, but something strong, steely. Anger, it was a rare look for the soft enderman hybrid he could find the good in a nuke.

“Who was it?” Ranboo’s voice sounded strained a sound Tubbo had never heard before, it made him nervous. He was never nervous around Ranboo.

Tubbo couldn’t look at the man shaking gently hoping Ranboo wouldn’t notice. This is all he wanted, to tell his husband to get him away from the piglin hybrid, but Tubbo knew. He knew how much Rnaboo enjoyed the others' company, who was he to take away his husband’s happiness? He was his father.

“I-I-I,” Tubbo babbled.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo shifted from his spot kneeling on the floor holding Tubbo’s shoulders firmly.

Tubbo’s good eye connected with Ranboo’s beautiful gaze his green and red eyes had a fire lit behind them making them shine.

“I can’t tell you,” Tubbo’s throat felt dry and scratched.

“You can tell me anything,” Ranboo promised.

Tubbo opened his mouth again shocked that nothing came out. This was the moment he was waiting for, he never shut up about what a terrible influence Technoblade was. Why couldn’t he drive the final nail into the coffin?

“If I say then I’m no better than Schlatt,” Tubbo turned his face from Ranboo.

“Who?”

Tubbo flinched, “Oh yea, that’s my dad.”

“I’ve never heard you use his name.”

“But you’ve heard everyone talk about how awful he was,” Tubbo was sure of it.

“Y-yea,” Ranboo stuttered.

“He manipulated just about everyone, Me, Quakity,” Tubbo’s throat hurt as he forced his voice not to waiver, “ Technoblade was manipulated into killing me.” Daring to glance at his husband Tubbo was met with a shocked expression. Ranboo’s eyes were clouded again with tears dropping silently against his cheeks leaving red thin trails that would take weeks to heal. His Adams apple bobbed gently over and over Tubbo was afraid he was choking back on his words.

In a desperate attempt to comfort the lanky enderman hybrid Tubbo took his clawed hands in his again a physical comfort.

“Boo,” Tubbo frowned hiding behind his long bangs, “I’m sorry, really I- it wasn’t his fault.”

“You don’t think that,” Ranboo’s voice was raspy, “You always ask me to stop hanging out with him. You’re mad at him.”

“No,” Tubbo hurried, “Techno was a good friend of mine, I’m not mad, I’m. I’m afraid.”

The thought of the large piglin hybrid alone sent a chill down Tubbo’s spine.

“I’m afraid of what he could take from me again. I’m afraid of what he thinks after that day.” Tubbo pulled his hands back fidgeting.

The silence was ringing in Tubbo’s ears. He just wanted Ranboo to say something.

“This,” Ranboo started his voice too loud suddenly, “This probably doesn’t mean much, but he asks about you.”

Tubbo felt his lungs seize his good ear straining to listen.

“He asks about your injuries, how you’re healing if you’re in pain. He’s upped the strength of several health potions and tested them before letting me bring them home. He asks if you need anything. I think in a weird way, he’s sorry.” Ranboo’s voice was soft, and it sounded like Tubbo was underwater.

“Really?” Tubbo’s voice cracked.

Ranboo nodded.

Tubbo felt his lip quiver and knew there was no way to stop the flow of tears that mimicked his husband. To finally talk about the day he died the pain of losing more than his life, but the comfort of a friend. To be afraid of Ranboo suffering a similar fate or being told Tubbo was nothing but a kid pretending they knew how to run a nation. He knows what he became on accident a dictator bred with fear of losing everything by his father. The man also lived in crippling fear of an uprising. Tubbo knew that seeing Techno again would feel like a hot iron to his skin, it would be terrifying. Even with Ranboo beside him, it would take everything for him not to collapse at the feet of his executioner. Yet Ranboo stood beside that man every day, and if he wasn’t safe Ranboo would keep him far away. He would never tell Tubbo he thought the man had remorse if he didn’t believe it to be true.

Tubbo lunged forward knocking Ranboo back against the hardwood as he landed on top of him burying his face into his suit collar as he cried.

“Baby steps,” Ranboo rubbed Tubbo’s back, “Right now let’s get you another health potion.”

Tubbo nodded feeling the pain in his arm, but it didn’t sting as bad as before.

[avauntus]

2020 favs: (short) fic recs

I am stealing this idea from @macgyver-sheriff, who has no clue who I am, but whose post I saw go across my dash. Thank you! 👋

Would you like some recs for the holiday season? - I too would like to share love for my favorite things I read that were written this year! <3

I’m going to do this in two parts - the short fics (10k or less, generally one-shot), and another post for the long or series fics I loved this year (it’s 2020, I figure we can use too much of a good thing?)

( @staidwaters - I’m ‘disqualifying’ your works because I’m biased, sorry! Look away! Unless you want recs!) 

"Congratulations, Get Rich" (9,238 words) by Attila (The Untamed - modern AU)

Tomorrow is Chinese New Year, which means Wei Wuxian has to get all of his bad decisions out of the way tonight.

Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Mianmian are all so screamingly perfect as modern versions of themselves in this, and it is KNOCK DOWN HILLARIOUS. Wei Wuxian is just a screaming queer disaster (affectionate) - as he should be.

Excerpt:

After a long beat, Lan Xichen sinks gracelessly into the chair Lan Wangji had been sitting in earlier. “I just want to be absolutely clear,” he says delicately, “that you are currently under the impression that my brother has no romantic feelings for you. That is what you’re saying to me right now, yes?”

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian says, feeling desperately confused. “Obviously? Why?”

“Because at least one of you is very stupid, and I’m trying to figure out who,” Lan Xichen tells him, sounding distracted. It’s the rudest thing Wei Wuxian has ever heard him say, and his mouth drops open slightly.

“caved to the careless” (6,708 words) by ilgaksu (The Untamed/MDZS - Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen)

Love is a choice you make - like this, and this, and this.

Have you ever read a writer whose work is so distinctly itself that you can feel yourself slipping in time even as you keep going? That’s not very articulate, but it’s the best way I can describe everything of ilgaksu’s I’ve read. Their fics are the same emotional register as having the breath knocked out of you after a fall. This was the first one I read, and I think it ends well-- with what Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen find along the path-- but it’s still heavy. Discussions of canon-compliant character death and grief/mourning here.

Excerpt:

He pauses. Until this very moment, he was unsure who to ask for. He has heard the rumours of the Yiling Patriarch’s ongoing residence here, about Zewu-jun’s seclusion: he’s dead, but even the dead are not free from gossip. But he remembers a courtyard, nearly two decades ago, and the weight of eyes some might have called angry in their intensity. He remembers those same eyes, and how for the wear of the intervening years, they had kept the same essence: longing, yearning, a kind of small unspoken grief.

Song Lan had a dream once. A dream of a sect, bound not by blood, but by a shared belief in the right path. So many things are only an inheritance: shame is one of them.  

Love is a choice. Love is a choice, and you choose until you can’t.

“I am here,” he decides, carving the words into the dirt, every stroke of every character resolute, “To meet with Hanguang-jun. Please show this one the way to go.”  

“Green River Running” (8,169 words) by @rain-hat (Love in the Moonlight - post-canon AU)

5+1: Kim Byeong-yeon returns to the land of the living.

I skimmed through Love in the Moonlight during my quarantine summer (distinguishable from my “quarantine spring” or “quarantine fall” only by fireworks), and immediately upon finishing, thought: “Psht, they killed off their best character.” And then, something happened that never happens -- I went on ao3 and found the exact thing I was looking for, written far  better than I could have imagined. Kim Byeong-yeon is such a quiet yet powerfully subversive presence and the progression here is so masterfully done. This is true of all of rainhat’s work’s I’ve read, but this is a fine example-- I really treasure the warm humanism of them.

Excerpt:

People needed helping hands even more than they needed sympathetic ears, though. Over the last year, Hong Gyeong-rae and Byeong-yeon had built houses and planted crops side by side; negotiating with moneylenders here, helping small-folk secure their stores against bandits there. There was nothing courtly about Byeong-yeon’s capacity for labour, or his expectation of reward. Wherever he went, he worked from dawn to dusk, ate the food he was given, and slept under a roof if he was offered one.

It suited him, Hong Gyeong-rae thought, even though there was something outlandish about his gentle speech and palace manners in the midst of it all. But to behave in any other way would be untrue to his upbringing; nor was he the sort of man to whom it would occur to try. And after all, most people liked to be treated with courtesy; it did not come across as mockery from this solemn, severely dressed young man, who seemed to find no task too big or too small. Hong Gyeong-rae had seen him argue tax law with local councillors and stand up to highwaymen armed with nothing but a knife and staff. But he watched cooking pots for women who had to run to the fields to tide over the day’s labour, too; he wrote letters for them, and tolerated their fractious children and spoon-fed their bedridden elders, if that was what was called for.

“The Veritable Records of King Taejo: Year 2, Entry 208“ (9,857 words) by @sadviper (My Country: the New Age - Nam Seon-ho & Hwang Sung-rok slice-of-life)

Hwang Sung-rok eats his way to the bottom of a real estate scam, and Seon-ho and Yeon help (a little).

No one is out here doing it like SadViper. This is technically part of a series, but they can all be read separately. I did not realize I needed to see more of Nam Seon-ho in all his “type-A government official glory” until Viper started sketching him out for us, and as a bonus, we get to see Yeon, and Sung-rok as the world’s surliest caretaker (but don’t call him that). I have an authorial fallacy where I always think stories have to have some grand “plot” -- a “Maltese Falcon” to pull the reader along-- the genius of Viper’s work is she shows us exactly how interesting and important the day-by-day tiny choices and connections we make are, with an impeccable background of historical research to ground you in the setting.

Excerpt:

Nam Seon-ho was his master now. He was a strange one. He was a traitor, for helping the escaped Liaodong soldiers, but not, because he managed to wiggle his way back into Yi Seong-gye’s favor and was now a sixth-ranked inspector with the privilege of having personal audiences with the King. He was temperamental and belligerent from being the son of a slave mother and a lifetime subject of Lord Nam’s fantastic parenting philosophy. He was afflicted with perpetual guilt. And he was also one of the hardest working and most desperate people Sung-rok had ever known.

It was a terrible combination. He was not merely a disaster waiting to happen, but a disaster perambulating on two legs at the edge of a chasm. If Sung-rok intended to stay in service for long, he needed to find a way to cool down some of Seon-ho’s intensity, even though admittedly, it was what drew him to Seon-ho in the first place.

Thoughts like these plagued Sung-rok for a while. It was one thing to know a person; it was quite another thing to try to change them.

“Orison” (4,975 words) by @gravelghosts​ (aeli_kindara) (Supernatural 15x18 coda)

Cas says, I love you.

So! This rips my heart out, every time. All the times Dean imagines himself together with Cas...and then he imagines himself, if not happy, then thriving.

Jack: “What is the point...if everyone I care about is going to leave?”

Castiel: “The point is that they were here at all and you got to know them, you... When they're gone, it will hurt, but that hurt will remind you of how much you loved them.”

Excerpt:

The thing Dean tries to do is: listen.

Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just — being. It’s in just saying it, Cas tells him, and Dean’s whole heart is screaming, No, but he shuts his mouth. He listens. He listens like his life fucking depends on it, which it does, in more ways than one.

“Sky Full of Song” (6,632 words) by @drivingsideways (Supernatural, finale 15x20 fix-it, Dean/Cas)

Or: The One in which Cas ghosted Dean.

Look. Look. If Cas(tiel) can yank Dean Winchester out of Hell, celestial-scream at him not once but twice, burn out a woman’s eyes like an utter clown before thinking “Huh, an Earthly vessel, guess that’s not just bullshit, then,” and when they finally work it out, Dean greets them with a knife to the chest and THEN they’ll spend twelve years misunderstanding each other and bickering, you had better believe these two are going to be disasters even in Heaven. Drivingsideways gives us all of that dynamic, with the found family of Jack and Mary as facilitators, and the happy resolution, which of course includes a true form “roughly the size of your Chrysler Building.” <3

Excerpt:

The thing is, Castiel doesn’t want Dean to feel obligated.

Dean has a streak of self-sacrifice that's as wide as the Caspian Sea, and Castiel doesn't want to be any more of a chore or obligation than they have been to Dean for all the long years of their—brotherhood.

Castiel had shocked Dean, to the core of him, with their confession, and Castiel had seen the swirling confusion, the fear, the panic, the shit what do I say, what do I do—how do I stop him—

So, no, Castiel would not be paying a visit anytime soon.

Of course, if Dean evinced an interest in meeting them, then Castiel would not stay away.

Castiel isn't that cruel.

(They have, on occasion, been exactly that cruel, but they are trying to outgrow it.)

Dean is still their friend.

Dean knows how to reach them, if he wants to.

(see? disasters. haha)

“The Rough” (3,267 words) by anactoria (Supernatural, finale -15x20- ‘fix-it’)

 Heaven can absolutely fucking wait.

Rec’ed for the concept more than the style (this is dialogue-heavy, as a lot of 15x20 fix-its tend towards), but I *love* this course-correction: After kicking around Heaven, Dean and Cas return to Earth to take their place as urban legends among the hunter community. Just for a while.

Excerpt:

But it isn’t life. That’s the thing. It’s awesome, but it isn’t life; life’s a hard, painful, infuriating mess, and Dean only got halfway through his own, and he feels cheated. For all he held it together for Sammy at the end, for all he tried to take Cas’s big moment-of-happiness speech on board, he feels cheated.

There’s supposed to be peace at the end. When you’re done.

Dean wasn’t done.

[fandomrewrites]

Chasing Butterflies: Unity Day

Hello all! Again, sorry I missed last week, but I am back! There is only four more chapters after this one and then I will switch back to my Teen Wolf fanfic. I’m going to alternate between these two stories after each season. As always constructive criticism is welcomed and let me know if you want to get added to any of my taglists. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Season 1; Episode 9: Unity Day Pairings: OC x OC Best Friends, no love interests chosen yet Warnings: Swearing, guns, alcohol  Word Count: 2,332

Season 1 Masterlist

Elara and Nova stand beside each other as they listen to Jaha's speech. "My friends, this is a historic Unity Day. Every year, we mark the moment our ancestors of the twelve stations joined to form the Ark, but this is the last time we do so while aboard her. Next year, on the ground."

"Right. After we did all the work. Someone shut him up." Miller states, watching the Chancellor with an annoyed look on his face.

"You shut up, Miller. No one's forcing you to watch." Raven scolds.

"But Miller has a point." Nova speaks up, agreeing with her fellow delinquent. "They weren't even expecting us to live." 

Elara elbows Nova in the ribs causing the girl to roll her eyes. "For ninety-seven years, we have eked out existence, hoping that someday our descendents would return to Earth." The Chancellor continues.

"Whoo! Yeah! Monty strikes again!" The two girls turn to Jasper's excited yells, "Hey! Call this batch Unity Juice! Who's thirsty?" 

Jasper starts handing out the moonshine as Monty calls out, "Save me some!"

"Let's get a drink." Nova hooks her arm through Elara's. 

"You go. Someone needs to stay sober." Elara replies.

"One drink, Lara. That's it. Trust me, I'm not planning to get anymore after that either. The Grounder's don't know it's Unity Day; I don't want to let my guard down. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't loosen up a little."

Elara sighs but let's Nova pull her to Jasper so they can both grab a cup. Chancellor Jaha's voice can still be heard from the screen, "To our sons and daughters on Earth listening to this message, we will see you soon. The first Exodus ship will launch in under sixty hours, carrying the reinforcements that you need, so stay strong. Help is on the way."

Nova scoffs, "Like those words are supposed to be comforting."

Hearing her Miller replies, "Seriously, he's a joke. Though I'm surprised you're so against the privileged."

"Being privileged just means I see how corrupt the Ark is from a different angle."

Miller raises his cup, "I'll drink to that."

Nova raises her glass back in a mock toast, "To the Chancellor and the council. For so kindly pardoning us of our crimes only after they sent us to our deaths."

Miller smiles, "Hear hear."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 A few minutes after Miller and Nova's interaction the camp's communication system went dead. "Hey. The comms are still dead. They cut out during the pageant." Clarke says.

"Best Unity Day ever." Bellamy mutters, causing Nova to snort.

"Do you really think now is a good time to be having a party? I mean, the Grounder is out there."

"Grounders." Bellamy corrects. "By now he's made it home. He's probably putting together a lynch mob." Seeing the look on Clarke and Elara's faces he continues, "Relax. I got security covered. Why don't you go get a drink? You look like you could use one."

"I could use more than one." Clarke says.

"Then have more than one. It''s Unity Day, Clarke. Lighten up a little." Nova replies, bringing her own cup to her lips.

Bellamy nods, "The Exodus ship carrying both of your parents comes down in two days. After that, the party's over. Have some fun while you still can. You deserve it."

At the mention of her father Nova scrunched her face up in disgust, "God, I'm going to need more to drink after that reminder."

"I thought you said you would only have one." Elara states, looking at her friend in concern.

Nova shrugs then chugs the rest of her moonshine. The drink burned her throat on the way down. "You're only having one and Blake already said security is covered. I need something to stop me thinking about the fact that I'm going to be seeing my father in a few days."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 On one of the tables the delinquents have begun a game of moonshine pong. Nova and Miller are on a team against Sterling and Monroe. "We are so beating you." Nova says, a rare smile lighting up her face.

"Bring it on, Kane." Sterling replies.

Nova throws first, easily making the manmade ball into one of the cups. Miller then throws his ball, sinking it into another cup. Nova and Miller both let out a cheer, high fiving as Monroe and Sterling drink.

The game continues back and forth until Nova throws the ball landing it in the last cup. Miller lets out a loud yell and picks Nova up in a celebratory hug. "That's what I'm talking about!"

"Called it from the beginning." Nova says smugly. Just as the words leave her mouth, Clarke taps her on the shoulder. She turns to look at the blonde, "What is it?"

"Come here." Clarke leads her away from the group and towards Bellamy.

When he sees the two girls approaching, he addresses the blonde, "Having fun yet, princess."

Ignoring him she instead starts explaining why she dragged Nova towards the older boy, "Finn set up a meeting with the Grounders. Nova and I are supposed to talk with them."

"I'm too drunk for this shit." Nova says, running a hand through her hair.

"Listen, I think it might be worth a shot. I mean, we do have to live with these people." 

"They'll probably gut you, string you up as a warning." Bellamy states.

"Well, that's why I'm here. I need you to follow us, be our backup."

"Does Finn know this?"

"Finn doesn't need to know, and, Bellamy, bring guns."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Walking through the woods, Clarke decides to break the silence. "I'd love it if you were right about this, but did you ever consider it might be a trap?"

"Yep, but since it's Unity Day, I decided to have hope instead." Finn replies.

"The Grounder's don't know it's Unity Day." Nova says, "And if this happens to be a trap and they kill me. I'll make sure to stay alive long enough just so I can kill you."

"Seriously, Finn, you're putting a lot of faith in a guy who stuck a knife in you." Clarke states.

"And you are sounding more and more like Nova and Bellamy." Finn shakes his head at the blonde.

"There is nothing wrong with sounding like me. I was born a leader and a warrior. I'm keeping us alive." Nova glares at Finn.

"You want to start a war." He tries to continue but Nova cuts him off.

"Bullshit. The Grounder's have been picking us off one by one since we got here. If it wasn't for me, Bellamy, and Clarke reacting in the ways that we have a lot more of us would be dead. I don't want a war, Finn. But if they think they can get away with killing one of our own, they are in for a rude awakening."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 As the trio arrives at the meeting place Clarke and Nova's eyes fall on Octavia. "So that's how you set this up. You helped him escape, didn't you?" Clarke asks the younger Blake.

"I trust him." Octavia says.

Nova rolls her eyes as Clarke mutters, "There's a lot of that going around."

The group turns their heads to the sound of someone arriving. The Grounder that escaped, Lincoln, runs up to Octavia. They hug and pull away when Clarke exclaims, "Look, horses!"

Nova raises an eyebrow, impressed at the sight of the beautiful creatures. "Hey. We said no weapons." Finn says, looking at Lincoln.

"I was told there wouldn't be." The Grounder replies.

"It's too late now." Clarke says, shaking her head.

Nova casually places her hands in her pockets, making sure her knife is still there. As the three delinquents move forward, Lincoln holds out a hand, "They go alone."

"We'll be fine." Clarke says, reassuring the teen.

Nova and Clarke reach the middle of the bridge at the same time the Grounder leader does. "Your name is Clarke?" The leader asks, looking at the blonde.

"Yes."

"And you are Nova?"

"Yeah." Nova states, the glare never leaving her face.

"I'm Anya."

"I think we got off to a rough start, but we want to find a way to live together in peace." Clarke starts.

"I understand. You started a war that you don't know how to end."

Nova scoffs, "Trust us. We know how to end it. We would just prefer to do this peacefully rather than having more bloodshed."

Clarke holds up a hand telling Nova to stop, "We didn't start anything. You attacked us for no reason."

"No reason? The missiles you launched burned a village to the ground." Anya argues.

"The flares? No. That was a signal meant for our families. We had no idea-"

"You're invaders. Your ship landed in our territory." Anya cuts Clarke off.

"We didn't know anyone was here when we got sent down. Add to the fact that all of us here didn't have a choice to come down but were forced to by our people." Nova states.

"You knew we were here when you sent an armed raiding party to capture one of us and torture him."

"Only after he captured one of our own." Nova says, taking a step closer to the Grounder.

The Grounder takes a step forward, now chest to chest with the petite brunette, "You were the one who killed one of my warriors when you came into our territory."

"In retaliation for your warriors leading my people into traps to kill them. You were plucking us off one by one and I wasn't going to just sit by and let it happen."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Somewhere behind them, hiding in the woods, Jasper, Bellamy, Raven, and Elara sit watching the interaction. “Grounder Princess looks pissed.” Raven states.

“Yeah well, our Angel has that effect.” Bellamy replies.

“I really hope she backs off. This isn’t going to end well.” Elara whispers, clearly nervous for her friend.

“I always thought Nova was lying when she said she wasn’t afraid of anything. I think this proves that she was telling the truth.” Jasper says.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 "Nova." Clarke scolds. The blonde tugs on her friend's arm, willing her to step back but Nova refuses to be the first to back away. So instead Clarke starts speaking, "Even though Nova wants to continue to argue, I see your point." Anya steps back to get a better look at Clarke as she speaks, "That's why we need to put an end to all of this."

"Lincoln said there are more of you coming down, warriors."

"The guard, yes, but also farmers, doctors, engineers. We can help each other but not if we're at war."

"Can you promise that these new arrivals won't attack us, that they'll respect the terms we agree on?"

Clarke hesitates, "I promise I will do everything I can to convince them to honor the terms that we set."

"Why would I agree to an alliance that your people can break the moment they get here?"

"How about we set terms for a temporary agreement and then when the rest of our people come down we can set up another meeting and our leaders and you can set up a more permanent agreement?"

Before Anya has the chance to reply a voice from behind the two delinquents yells out, "Clarke, Nova, run! They're gonna shoot!" Nova recognizes the voice as Jasper.

Nova and Clarke react immediately. They turn around and start running away from the Grounders and towards Finn who is rushing towards them.

"Finn, go back! Go, go!" Clarke yells at the boy.

Nova watches as Lincoln jumps in front of Octavia, saving her from an arrow. 

Once the group of delinquents are back together in the woods, Bellamy starts arguing with Finn. "You got anything to say?"

"Yeah. I told you no guns!" Finn argues.

"I told you we couldn't trust the Grounders. I was right." Clarke defends her actions.

"Why didn't you tell me what you were up to?" Raven asks Finn, hurt that he didn't talk to her.

"I tried but you were too busy making bullets for your gun." Finn replies.

"You're lucky she brought that! They came there to kill you, Finn!" Bellamy says.

"You don't know that! Japer fired the first shot!" Finn yells.

"You ruined everything!" Octavia agrees with Finn. 

She storms off in the direction of camp as Jasper yells after her, "I saved you! You're welcome!"

"Will all of you shut up. We can't change anything that happened so stop arguing about it." Nova says.

There is a brief moment of silence that Finn breaks, "Well, if we weren't at war already, we sure as hell are now." He then turns to Clarke, "You didn't have to trust the Grounders. You just had to trust me."

Finn runs off after Octavia just as Bellamy mutters, "Like I said, best Unity Day ever."

“Nov, you should have told me what was happening.” Elara says, looking at the petite girl, who just shrugs in response. “You could have been killed. I swear you are way too impulsive and hot headed.”

“I don’t need you to lecture me, Lara.” Nova snaps. “I’m not going to be afraid of some Grounders, I’ve been trained since I could walk. Out of all of us in our camp I have the best chance at survival when it comes to going up against them.”

Right after the words leave her mouth an explosion in the sky causes the remaining delinquents to stop and look up. "The Exodus ship? Your parents are early." Bellamy says.

"Wait. It's going too fast. Something's wrong." Clarke replies as she watches the ship fall to Earth.

Not even a minute later it crashes, creating a mushroom cloud. Clarke sinks to her knees as Nova's eyes widen and her mouth drops open in shock.

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (2)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3600

A/N: Not a lot of Reader in this chapter. Please tell me what you think! I love hearing from you guys and it keeps me motivated!

[New York, March 2024]

“We can’t find her,” Steve said as he walked back into the flower shop. Everyone else followed the Captain in.

The flower girl took a quick gasp at the heroes in her shop but Natasha gave her a soothing rub on the back. Nobody wanted to deal with a hysterical flower girl. Luckily, the woman who had killed Anderson hadn’t knocked over any plants in her hurry and the shop was still in one piece. Nat stood up and gave the woman one last look to make sure she wasn’t about to break down again and then the Avengers filed out of the shop.

There was a small crowd when they walked out onto the street. People were taking photos and videos of the ruined cafe. Their phones turned to the heroes, though, when they were spotted.

“Stark, can you get the security video from the cafe?” Steve ordered. “Wanda and I will talk to the baristas. Everyone else either deals with the crowds or examines the cafe.” Everyone nodded and went off to their respective jobs.

Inside the cafe, Anderson lied dead in a large pool of his own blood. Nat started to snap pictures of the bodies and damages. Behind the counter, she found a pair of plastic gloves and made a small show of putting them on. Bucky just picked up the bullet casings with his metal hand.

Nat gingerly moved Anderson’s head to get a clearer view of his neck wound. He had definitely died of blood loss due to the wound which was definitely inflicted by a knife. She looked around the room and her eyes landed on one of Anderson’s goons. A simple, black knife sat in his forehead. Nat walked over to the body and pulled the knife from his head and held it up to show Bucky.

“Think we can run this for prints?” She asked.

“Yeah, there might be some bags behind the counter.” There were. “Have you seen the bullet wounds in each of the security guys? All straight through the forehead.”

“Same with the fourth guy with this knife.”

“There are plenty of bullet casings from the securities’ guns but only three from another. She fired three times, each one hitting its mark.”

“So she’s a good shot,” Nat surmised.

“Are you guys done in there?” Sam asked through the broken window. The two ex-assassins rolled their eyes and joined everyone else outside.

“I got the security feed, obviously, but Cap also got a video from one of the baristas, right?” Tony reported.

“She just wanted to get Steve’s number,” Wanda laughed.

“Okay, we can go back to the compound to compare notes,” Steve suggested.

They all nodded and went back to the quinjet, the sounds of excited civilians and their cameras following them.

🌹

"Please let me come with you to see your home," she begged at the end of one of their meetings. They stood in the forest. Far enough in where they wouldn't be spotted but still close enough to the edge to be safe from wild animals.

"I wish I could. I really do. But I can’t.”

“Why not?” She knew how she sounded. Her mother always warned her against whining. Still, she could not help the doubts clouding her mind. “Are-are you ashamed of me?” Her eyes watered at the thought as her cheeks burned from the absurdity of the question. Of course, he wasn’t ashamed of her. Right?

“I could never. You are perfect.” He kissed the top of her head. “The only thing stopping me is the Asgardians. They disapprove of you Midgardians," Loki explained.

"But I am sure if you tell them I'm your soulmate," she paused.

"I do not think that an Asgardian has ever had a Midgardian soulmate. You are the only ones in the Nine Worlds without soulmates." She huffed and nodded like she understood, although she honestly didn't. "Thank you for being patient. I believe that you will, one day, have the privilege to see Asgard. It is not as beautiful as you."

“I don’t want you to leave me alone here.”

“You will never be alone. I will never leave you, my dear.”

What a load of shit that had turned out to be. It had been so long since Loki had dreamed of her. He supposed that’s what he got for being back on Midgard. He couldn’t think about her. It hurt too much, knowing that he couldn’t have her.

Now, what had woken him up? Oh, the fucking AI. Apparently the Avengers had returned from their escapade.

“Is everyone here?” Stark asked when Loki walked into the conference room from earlier. Why was he always the last one to enter? “Okay, we have some videos to watch. F.R.I.D.A.Y. hit the lights.”

The lights in the room dimmed and Loki sat down at the table. The screen at the front turned on and a security feed began to play. Loki recognized the Midgardian Senator when he entered despite the tinted glasses on his face. Four men followed him in and spread out across the small cafe. He sat down with his back to the camera. The video skipped a couple of minutes and resumed when a woman with pink and green hair walked in.

“That’s obviously a wig,” Wilson snorted.

Loki narrowed his eyes. The woman reminded him of (Y/N) somehow. Maybe the body shape or the way she held herself. It obviously couldn't be (Y/N), though. He couldn’t even see her face because of the hat and camera angle. Loki brushed off the familiarity to the recent dream. He was seeing her in everything.

They talked briefly, but the security feed had no sound. The woman showed the man something on her phone and the Senator put a briefcase on the table. He opened the briefcase and the Avengers only caught a brief glimpse of its contents before the woman turned it to face her. She smiled and dramatically rubbed her hands together.

“What was that?” Thor raised his eyebrow at the screen.

“Probably to get the knife out of her sleeve,” Romanoff said and sure enough a moment later, the woman stabbed the Senator in the neck.

Loki tried to hide his smirk when she removed the knife and the Senator’s blood squirted like a fountain. The four men converged on her and drew their guns. She flipped the table as the men fired on her. Loki found himself rooting for her, even though he knew the outcome. The woman popped up and shot three of the men. Then she threw the knife at the fourth man. Once he went down, the cafe’s window broke and she left the cafe.

“And then we arrived, she ran into the next door flower shop where we lost her,” Stark continued once the video stopped. “The next video is from one of the baristas.”

The video changed and this time it had sound.

“Dude, that’s a Senator or something, right?” one female voice behind the camera asked. The video shook and the Avengers watched the woman walk in.

“I don’t know, shut up.”

“Senator,” the woman said.

The dream must really be getting to Loki’s head because the woman even sounded like (Y/N). Even after all this time, he would never be able to forget what his soulmate’s voice sounded like. Could it be a descendant? A relative? He knew she never had children.

“You can’t possibly be the one I talked to,” the Senator replied. “You’re just a girl.”

“I would have stabbed him too if he said that to me,” Romanoff joked. Maximoff snorted  and nodded in agreement.

“Well of course I couldn’t be. My boss is too busy and smart to meet you in public.” 

The Senator made no sign of noticing her tone, but the Avengers sure did.

She pulled out the phone and showed him the screen. “Now, I’m also busy so if we can get this over with?”

“Sure, darling.” He put the briefcase on the table.

“Open it.”

The Senator followed the order and this time, the Avengers could see the money that filled the briefcase. She nodded and rubbed her hands together.

“Thank you, Senator. That will be all.”

The following chaos ensued and the video stopped when the girls ducked down behind the counter to hide. The lights came back on.

“We have a couple more presentations before we get into the group discussion,” Stark said and the majority of the people at the table rolled their eyes.

“We’re not a fucking kindergarten class, Stark,” Barnes grumbled as he and Romanoff went to the front. The screen now showed various pictures of the bodies.

“We recovered the knife used to kill Anderson and one goon,” Romanoff held up the knife. “We found prints on it, but we found no records to match them.”

“There were many bullet casings on the ground, mostly from the security,” Barnes continued. “Only three came from the woman, I assume. That means she has a lot of practice shooting people in the forehead.”

“Is this the same group that Anderson had hired?” Barton asked. “Cause there were no white roses.”

“We got a closer look at what was on the phone, and it looked like text messages. This was a meeting for the payment. And it seems like this lady is in charge.”

“Thank you, kids,” Stark stood back up with his eyes glued to his phone. “But apparently Senator Anderson’s house was robbed around the same time he was murdered.” He tapped the phone and flicked his wrist and new photos appeared at the front. “They took everything of value and—”

“Left white rose petals everywhere,” the Captain sighed as he studied the pictures. “This white rose organization has been growing under our noses for too long. I think we have to end it.”

They needed time to come up with a solid plan. If they scared them off, it could be years until they had another chance to catch them.

🌹

Thoughts of (Y/N) ran rampant in Loki’s mind. After the meeting, he had gone up to Bruce to inquire about her. She had been a princess, a queen, right? He had to know about her.

“Queen (Y/N)?” Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re asking about Queen (Y/N), eldest daughter to King Henry VIII?”

“Er, she had a sister named Mary,” Loki supplied.

“Bloody Mary?”

“Maybe? Can you just give me a quick Midgardian history lesson?”

“I’m not the most well versed in sixteenth-century English history. Maybe you could search it up online? Or go to a museum?”

Bruce had done a quick search with the help of Stark’s AI and had learned that a museum down in the capital, Washington DC, was having a special exhibit on English history. He had also suggested Thor go along with him. Just in case Loki decided to do something stupid. So now, Loki was being trailed by the very obvious God of Thunder as he walked through the museum.

Crowns, jewelry, and clothes from the sixteenth century were displayed in glass cases as humans milled around reading the descriptions. A tour guide was leading a group of teenagers around, pausing every once in a while. Loki couldn’t get past the group and stuck to listening to the tour.

Fucking finally. They had made it to the monarchs and family trees. Loki could see (Y/N)’s painted portrait. It was an accurate image of her, yet it still could not capture her true ethereal beauty. Delicate white flowers filled the empty space behind her.

“(Y/N) was the infamous Bloody Mary’s older sister and eldest surviving child to King Henry VIII,” the tour guide said to the teens. “Born in 1513, she married Phillip II of Spain when she was twenty-five. After her death, Phillip II would remarry her sister, Mary. She was a benevolent ruler, especially compared to her sister and successor. After her father died in January of 1547, she, along with fifteen others, perished in a suspicious fire that was never solved.”

What? Loki stood staring at (Y/N)’s portrait as the group moved on. The museum must have it wrong. (Y/N) had died seven years earlier in December of 1538. Loki’s mind spun. Was she actually alive for seven more years? Why was the connection shut off? She had to have died that day. It was painful but was it better than him seemingly abandoning her? Because he did abandon her, and his choice haunted Loki ever since.

🌹

[San Juan, Puerto Rico, December 1538]

You could see the land up ahead. It was a vague outline of a coast, but it was more land than you had seen in four weeks. The ship creaked under your feet as Agnes brought you to your new husband’s study. He was going to show you the reason you were sailing across the ocean.

In the study, a strange metallic object sat on a thick cloth on the desk. It was about the length of your forearm and it had many geometric sides, causing it to look bent.

“We found a case of these in Portugal,” Phillip told you. “We managed to get most of them out, but it cost a great many people’s lives.”

“It was guarded?” you asked. The many surfaces were not smooth. You wanted to touch it. When you reached a hand out for it, Phillip grabbed it and pulled you back.

“Not in the way you would think. The men who directly came into contact with them were quickly turned to stone. But when they did,” Phillip opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment, “the strangest symbols appeared on its surface.”

On the parchment, seemingly random lines and ellipsis. You looked at your husband for an explanation.

“The locals told a story of blue angels who fell from the heavens to Earth. Some called them the… Kree? Yes, I believe that was it. We are traveling to Puerto Rico because there are similar stories there. I believe we found where this belongs.”

Loki, you asked your soulmate. Have you heard of the Kree?

“You said there were more?” you asked Phillip while you waited for Loki’s reply.

“Moving more than one is too dangerous. This… object. It is a weapon.”

The sound of ringing bells made both of you look up. You were here. As you were disembarking from the ship, Loki finally responded.

The Kree are a very advanced militaristic race. I know of them, how do you?

Have they ever been to Earth? You looked around at your new surroundings as the warm air tickled your skin.

Not that I know of, but I can do some inquiring. He went silent.

“Right this way, your majesty,” a man said with an accent. He led you to a carriage and opened the door for you.

“Where are we going?” you asked before entering.

“To the site, your majesty,” he replied.

You supposed you were already in your traveling clothes and you didn’t want to get any of your fancy dresses dirty. Agnes joined you in the carriage.

“What did the King want?” Agnes asked. All formalities between the two of you had already been dropped by the third week of knowing each other.

“He showed me this,” you paused. You didn’t know what it was. “It was this object that he believes belongs here or more specifically, where we are going.”

The ride was, thankfully, over quickly, but Loki had not gotten back to you yet. You and Agnes left the increasingly stuffy carriage and watched men with shovels linger around the giant hole in the ground. You walked closer and a tall, thin man with spectacles fell into step next to you. He gingerly held a box in his hands.

“Is it in there?” you asked looking at the box out of the corner of your eye.

“Er, yes. Yes, it is, your majesty,” he stuttered.

“What is going to happen?”

“W-well, a team of men are going to go down and th-they will find where it belongs.”

A man walked up to the thin man who opened the box to display the mysterious object. With gloves on, he wrapped the object in its cloth and removed it. You should be the one to take it. Where on Earth did that come from? You shouldn’t touch it lest you want to turn to stone.

You followed the man with the object as he joined a group of six men with torches, armor, and swords. They began to climb down a ladder that led deep into the ground. You needed to go with them. Why, though?

“I’m going as well,” you turned and began to descend the ladder.

“Your highness,” the tall man rushed to the edge and yelled down at you. “I-I wouldn’t advise—”

“You are not my advisor.”

“Your highness!” Agnes shouted.

“Nobody else follows,” you ordered. “Or tell Phillip.”

The rest of your descent was silent. Goodness, this went down much further than you had thought. The closest man’s torch barely illuminated the rungs where you were. It still felt as if you had made the correct decision.

Loki? Are you there? He remained silent.

Sounds of pained screaming and concerned shouts erupted below you. What now? Then the shouts became more fearful and the sound of metal hitting metal reached your ears. You got to the bottom and gasped when you saw four of the seven men dead on the ground, blood seeping across the ground. One torch was still lit so you picked it up and followed the sound of the last three.

The ceilings were high above you and the walls were solid rock, not dirt as you had first expected. Out of the darkness, a man ran at you, his face contorted in panic.

“Your highness,” he said with an accent. Then he spoke in rapid Spanish as he caught his breath. Someone yelled down the hall and you took a step back. “Run!” the man yelled.

Then another man came out of the darkness and impaled the first with his sword. You jumped back with a small scream and clapped your hand over your mouth. Your breathing was heavy as the second man straightened his back and looked at you with terrifying red eyes.

To your surprise, he didn’t attack you. After a minute of stillness and silence, you realized that he was beckoning to you. You took a tentative step closer and he took one back. You took another step and he moved back again. He wanted to lead you somewhere.

The first place the man brought you was just a few meters down the hall. He pointed to the object on the ground next to a statue. No, not a statue. The man must have touched the object and he turned to stone. You took in a shaky breath and looked at the red-eyed man for confirmation. He only continued to point.

You couldn’t see the cloth it was wrapped in before so you made the insane decision to pick it up with your bare hands. You winced and waited to turn to stone but when nothing happened, you looked at it. The same pattern that had been on the parchment Phillip showed you had popped up, covering the object in a glowing red-orange light.

With renewed confidence, you followed the man through the maze-like halls. The next stop was a large, circular room that was lit from above. A stone pedestal was in the center and when you walked over to it, you saw it held the patterns as well. The walls around the room began to move, leaving you trapped alone in the silent room.

Loki? You couldn’t feel his presence.

The object moved in your hand and you instinctively let it go. It didn’t fall to the ground but floated to the pedestal. Were you shaking? The object opened and started to fold in on itself, revealing rising, dark blue crystals.

Loki, please. Where are you? You felt a tear slip down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away. The crystals began to glow and then a wave of mist exploded outward. It exploded outward and knocked you backward. Loki!

I’m sorry, my brother was bothering me. What’s wrong?

Your breath was quick and it shook in time with your body. I-I don’t know. I’m scared, Loki. Your body tingled and you saw a dark layer of stone spread across your body and around your clothes. Tears freely dripped down your face now. S-something is happening Loki. Please, I’m so scared.

I’m sorry, I can’t do anything.

You couldn’t move and the layer reached your face. You could see it creeping up on you out of the corner of your eye. You were stuck. You couldn’t do anything as your vision was obscured but mentally call out for Loki.

It felt like you were in darkness for hours, but it was probably only a minute. Eventually, the crust around you began to crack and you were able to move your fingers. The stone layer kept falling away and the moment you could, you collapsed to the ground. Silent sobs racked your body.

The walls opened up again and the red-eyed man still stood, waiting.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry until you ran out of tears. You wanted to give up and lie on the stone floor forever.

You knew that something had changed. When you were waiting in the darkness, you knew. You felt empty inside. You knew it wouldn’t work but you still tried to call out to Loki.

He was gone.

He had promised he would never leave, but he was gone.

And you were alone.

*

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Taglist:

@kaithehero @liliannyah​ @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury​ @aberrant-annie​ @simplybree​ @adalina-perez​ @emage-king​ @yandereforyou​ @notactiveonmain​ @tvdplusriverdale​

[nightwingshero]

"Next time I'll hit you like I mean it" for Jane pleaseee? 🥺✨

Thank you sweetie!! Have some Jane canon!!! I just want to make it clear that I am not at all responsible for the damage she causes. She is who she is. 

It was fucking annoying. But if I was being honest, there wasn’t much that wasn’t nowadays. Even as I sat there with my feet propped up on one of our supply boxes, I couldn’t help but dig my knife into the wooden table next to me as they carried on. Even as Randy stood off in the distance, too preoccupied playing fetch with his new pitbull John had gifted him. Blue was about a year now, and she was so full of energy and getting so big. I couldn’t wait to see her once she was older, even though I would never admit it.

I watched in distaste as the others carried in supplies for John, stacking things neatly in his hanger. It annoying, watching over shit like this when there were more important matters at hand, like the Reaping that had just started. I had insisted we take back Fall’s End, that we could easily do it. And eyeing my sniper rifle leaning against a crate, I felt that familiar urge again. This time I would drag Fairgrave out myself, kicking and screaming if I had to. But John had decided not to, insisting that the new Sinner—the new heretic—wasn’t one we needed to concern ourselves with. Just a rookie deputy that was still green around the edges, someone that didn’t know what the fuck she was doing. It was amusing to me slightly, that the so-called Resistance trusted someone so inexperienced to spearhead this. Perhaps it would be easier to take them out now, all things considering. Either way, I was ready to test those boundaries, to see what made her so damn perfect to be a leader. I was ready to knock her ass down a peg.

“Viking Princess looks displeased, does she demand a sacrifice to appease her?” Randy teased as he approached, using the rope to play tug a war with the puppy.

“Shut up, Randy.”

“Pissed off, indeed.” He smirked. “What do yah got up your ass this time?”

I glared at him then, the mischief dancing in his light blue green eyes as I wondered how fast I could cut his face to pieces. It wasn’t as if we haven’t fought before, enough to know that I was at a disadvantage…for now. His size and experience in fighting outweighed mine, but I knew I would better him. I would take him the fuck down and see who the fuck was smiling then, with this face bloody in the ground. “Fuck off.”

Raising his brow, he pulled a chair out and straddled it, his eyes shifting to the few members that were doing most of the work. It was one of his fancy days, dressed in a button up and waistcoat. The Chosen always got special treatment, and when you were John’s, you were really special. Being John’s righthand had given us privileges…like not dressing like a fucking homeless person. I preferred a tank top and jeans, it was easier to move in, it was more practical and made more fucking sense to me.

“Y’know…you could just work that shit out, mate. Go punch a tree or something.” My grip on my knife tightened as I stabbed the table again, this time with more force than before. “Ain’t no reason for scarin’ everybody.”

“They can fuck off.” I muttered. It was infuriating. And maybe the problem was that I was stuck here, overlooking low-leveled members when I could have been out there, fighting and bringing people in like I was trained to do. What was the point of being one of the best marksmen in the fucking county when I couldn’t even use it? Or perhaps part of it was because I was itching to fight her. It was only a matter of time before our paths would cross again, and I knew exactly where she would be holed up. After her father died, that’s all she ever fucking did. Visit her father’s memorial at that fucking church.

I couldn’t wait until John gave the order to destroy them.

“They’re taking to fucking long. It’s annoying. And why the fuck are we here when we can be out there?” I spat bitterly, throwing a glare at one a younger guy, his eyes immediately cast down as he hurried past and out of my line of sight. “What’s the fucking point of this bullshit?”

“Supplies are important.” Randy answered as he lightly tossed the rope, Blue quickly running after it. “And we’re Chosen. Not a Priestess, not a hunter—”

“Who would wanna work with Jacob anyway?” I scoffed, my foot pushing against the crate and tilting my chair on the back legs. “Have you fucking been up there? Couldn’t handle the training he gave, can’t imagine workin’ for his ass. I’d scar that face up more than it already is.”

“Easy there, Scarface. You almost became one of his.” He threw me a smirk and I knew he was messing with me, doing what he could to poke and get me riled up. It wouldn’t fucking work though, not this fucking time.

“Almost became one of hers too, but could you fucking imagine? Rainbows and sunshine. Iced teas and fucking brownies. Fuck that shit. I don’t need that fucking overly sweet southern belle trying to make me smile all the damn time. She fucking hugged me last time.”

“Hmm. The Mother’s not so bad.”

“Pretty sure she poisoned Brady and almost got Miss Mable.”

“That a bad thing?” he laughed. “Mable is someone I can live without. You meet Brady? Asshat.”

I rolled my eyes at him and made a face. “She makes my teeth fucking rot. And she’s touchy. I don’t fucking like touchy.”

“But you’ll let Faith braid flowers in your hair.”

Grabbing the nearest glass, I chucked it at his head and watched in frustration as he skillfully dodged it. I didn’t know what I was expecting, it was so fucking him. Perfect fucking Randy, with his beard and muscular frame. His eyes found mine again, his small smile not widening even the slightest before he pulled the rope away from Blue and threw it again. “Fuck. You.”

My hand twitched on the knife that was still protruding from the table, wishing nothing more than to fucking fight someone, to go after Grace or that fucking deputy. Anything but to sit here, watching as everything fucking went on without us. When was the last time we got into a good fight? When was the last time I saw Randy beat someone until his fists ran red? I was tired of being on the sidelines while our people were constantly being attacked, constantly at war. It was bullshit that I was just used to babysit when I could do so much fucking more, I was better than this shit.

My mood only seemed to worsen when the next person came in, her honey blonde hair falling perfectly over her shoulders, her head held high as if she owned the fucking place. I sneered as Holly looked around, her arrogance dripping off of her. Once upon a time we had gotten along a bit, which I suppose for me it just meant I hadn’t threatened to fucking kill her. Randy had defended her, people said, in a bar from her abusive husband. This was when John had been talking to her, slowly convincing her to join us. Which only led to him bailing Randy out that fateful night…and a few years later, we were here. Giving me plenty of time to know that I was tempted to rip her extensions out from time to time.

“She’s sleeping with Johnny again.” Randy sighed as Blue ran back, her front paws on his leg to hold herself up as he pets her, cooing praises.

“Shocker.” I muttered as I dug the knife out roughly. “Probably because poor Holly couldn’t snag her a place next to the Father. She wants a fucking position and thinks being the Baptist’s wife is gonna fall in her lap because she blows him. Fucking Holly.” After giving a quick look around, her eyes fell on us and an overly sweet smile spread across her face. I suddenly longed for the presence of the Mother in comparison.

“Hey, y’all! How yah doin’?”

Fucking Christ.

“Holly.” Randy gave a polite smile in return, a slight nod as he gave attention to the excited puppy tugging on the rope. Satisfied with the attention from him, she looked at me expectantly, her smile becoming tight. My chin tilts, holding my head high as I stared her down, daring her and showing her that I wasn’t playing her fucking game. I wasn’t her friend, I wasn’t gonna cater to her. She wasn’t my fucking Herald, no matter how badly she wanted to be.

“Well hey there, Jane.” She called, finally breaking the silence between us. I moved my feet, allowing my chair to fall back onto the floor on all fours again. Eyeing her up and down, I gently slid my knife back in place. John wouldn’t be too happy if I impulsively stabbed her, and I wasn’t taking any chances. I would behave…for now.

“Surprised to see you out here considering I never see you do any heavy lifting.” I replied, enjoying the way her face turned a bit pink. Pride swelled as I smirked at her.

Finally recovering, she scoffed. “Well, it seems that all your heavy lifting is going just fine.” She offered a pointed look at Randy as she put her hands on her hips as her words dripped with condescension. “You really are Sloth, aren’t you? Just sitting there when you can put those muscles of yours to actual use.”

It happened too fast for her, but I was in her face the next second, making her stumble back in shock as I glared at her. Randy watched quietly and I knew he was trying to tell me to ease up, to not let me be ruled by the pride that felt wounded on his behalf. But I wasn’t going to allow this, not when she owed him. Not when she needed to know her motherfucking place. So, I followed her stumble, taking a menacing step forward as the others stopped to watch.

She was trembling underneath her façade, her eyes wide as she tried to stand strong. It looked pathetic on her, it didn’t fit right on her. Not the way it was with the Heralds, not with Whitney, let alone on of the Chosen. Holly didn’t deserve the entitlement she reeked of. She earned nothing. I sneered in her face, our noses coming close to touching. The creak of his chair tells me he’s tensing, Randy’s own way of reminding me where we are, reminding me that I need to keep it together. I just wanted to claw her fucking eyes out. Just a little bit. Just enough to draw blood, to make her blind, to make understand that I wasn’t someone to fuck with.

“Most of your work is done behind closed doors, Holly. I would say watch your fucking mouth, but I think we’re both well fucking aware of what comes in and out of it.” Her mouth hangs open as she gaps at me like a fucking fish, taken aback by the crude and direct words that I’ve spoken. It makes me want to laugh at her. “Remember who’s in charge here. Last time I checked, we’re the Chosen. Fucking John doesn’t give you power here, don’t even fucking try.”

I wanted her to swing. I wanted her to give me a fucking reason to drop her, I was practically shaking for it. Violence vibrated in my veins, making me run hot. Another creak from his chair as he shifts, a subtle clearing of his throat, and I know I need to walk it off. Perimeter check was probably due, Randy could easily watch over this to make sure everything was in order. Maybe I could work of the frustration. Maybe I would see someone and be able to use my fucking rifle for once.

With one last glance over her, looking down at her, I turn away with the intention of grabbing my gun. I could make Randy pay me back later, giving me his best whiskey at his cabin while we sat around the fire. He fucking owed me for this. Biting my tongue until I was sure I could taste the iron of my own blood. The temptation to spit it in her face is one I have to shove down hard. Her scoff stops me though, makes me listen careful as her nasally voice echoes through the hangar as everyone hold their breath.

“Bitch, you fucking wish you could. You’re just jealous that nobody fucking wants you. Grace didn’t want you, your own husband didn’t fucking want you. Best you can do is this washed-up lumberjack—"

Years of ballet. That’s what it is, and I wouldn’t ever fucking admit that shit to anyone. But that’s how I’m able to turn on my toes so quickly. It’s how I’m able to throw my elbow in her face as swiftly as I do. I didn’t care what anyone fucking said, dancing gave you a fighting advantage. Cardio, flexibility, speed, balance…it was useful in moments like this. She jerked back, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to process, but I wasn’t giving her the time to. Finishing my turn, I reach out and grab the back of her head with my other hand, quickly slamming her face against the table. I smiled when I hear the satisfying crunch, that’s when I let her go and watch as she slips to the floor on her back. There’s blood from her broken nose and busted mouth, running down her face. Finally.

Her hands cup her nose, covering her face as her scream pierces the air, and even though it’s muffled by her hands, it was enough to carry through the hangar and I’m sure it could have been heard outside. I just hoped that John had decided to keep his damn office windows closed. Randy sighed as he calmed Blue, and I just glared down at her, towering over her with clenched fists. “Let this be a fucking warning to you, Pepper. I do not care to be fucked with, and I fucking dare you to pull that shit again. Because next time?” A humorless laugh escapes my lips as I sneer. "Next time I'll hit you like I mean it." Giving her one more onceover, I turn back and see the others gapping at me, completely shocked and a bit terrified. Good. “What the fuck are you doing? Brother John needs this shit done, get it done!” I snapped, making them scramble and collect themselves as they continued moving supplies in.

Randy follows me instead of staying behind, Blue nipping at the edges of my trenchcoat as we walk, the incident completely forgotten. He gave me a side glance as he crossed his arms. “Johnny boy ain’t gonna like that.”

“John’s judgement is obviously clouded, Randy.” I scoffed. “Someone needs to fix that for him.”

[samanthaxreed]

                                               SOLO THREAD

Locale: Sam’s apartment / Oceanside Cemetery

Mentioned: @fireinhislungs, @gracetaylorwilliams, @jessexmarino​, @naomixjones​

Dinner with her father went off with only a few conversational lulls, far less awkward than anticipated and yet not completely fluid. Like two people rowing a canoe at different speeds, both attempting to turn it in the same direction without being fully in sync. It would come with time Sam supposed and as she began cleaning dishes, bright hues caught sight of her father throwing a cursory examination of the window latches before shifting attention to the folded sweater on her couch. “Are you holding that for somebody?”

It took everything in her not to snort. “Real subtle... It doesn’t belong to some secret lover if that’s what you’re getting at.”

His chagrin at being caught was palpable enough to soften Sam’s raised brow, almost lingering on the edge of amused before he continued. “I worry about you living in this place alone, Samantha. No roommate, no boyfriend, or... girlfriend?” The blonde visibly winced then, hands resuming the task at hand to avoid discussing something so personal with a person she truly didn’t know well at all. Her father, still a near stranger. “Look, take it from me that too much alone time drives you a little nuts and it’s probably safer in numbers around here.”

The audacity to gently lecture as if his brand of advice mattered in the grand scheme when he never deemed it necessary until now. A measured swallow and breath came before she pivoted features to address him in a way that wouldn’t entirely nuke their still rather tepid relationship. The pair lingered a hair away from disaster and the only indication she managed to give was a firm warning. “Dad, I know what you’re trying to say, but I can take care of myself. I’m doing just fine and you’re forgetting that I literally lived here at one point.” With him and her mother, ironically enough. Apparently Oceanside had been worth settling in during her formative years, but once she could choose for herself it no longer suited the narrative.

“You always did have your mother’s stubbornness.” That, at least, managed to ring true and she might have been able to ignore that comment with a scoff or quick humor picked up from his side, but her father always prodded the right button. “I’m trying to keep you safe, okay?” Definitely a hothead like her abrasive mother because the knife she’d been wiping down tightened within Sam’s slender grasp. Hell of a time to start giving a shit, but she digressed. “Because Oceanside isn’t how you remember it and ignoring that fact’s gonna get you hurt if you don’t pay attention... I understand if it brings you comfort being here, but it’s not the same.”

The sharp utensil she had been cleaning finally clattered against metal as it hit the base of her sink, dropped in frustration because it wasn’t his business. None of it. He surrendered that right when the ink dried on her custody papers; parental claim relinquished unequivocally. “I’m not blind. I can fucking see that it’s worse and I’m not walking around the city with rose colored glasses.” Quite the opposite, suffocating every blossom of nostalgia before it could spring out of the dirt... Or ash, depending upon how one looked at it. “The whole me getting poisoned thing shot that down right out of the gate, but I’m not just–– I’m not giving up on this and lots of people I care about live here.” She swallowed against the vulnerability, choking it down like a bad tequila shot. “Which means there’s something worth sticking around for, so if you’re trying to talk me out of it then go ahead and call up Fletcher. Let him tell you how well that worked out the last time somebody tried.” 

“Take it easy,” he cautioned with infuriating ease against her rising temper. “I’m only trying to look out for your best interest. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t forgive myself.” The chuckle she gave in response lacked both humor and warmth, practically bewildered at his entire savior complex... And bitter, so unfathomably jaded at this ill conceived timing. Too little, too late. “Yeah, well, you’ve been asleep on the job for twenty-eight years so it’s convenient that you woke up to do it now.”

That must have cut deep because her father maneuvered out of the kitchen doorway, hands raised defensively as if she were still holding the knife. It sort of felt like that, but her tongue became the barb instead. Stabbing repeatedly when he hardly deserved it, angered more at unseen and unresolved forces. “I know I wasn’t always as involved as I could have been, but I did raise you––”

“You didn’t raise me, you avoided me because it was easier to spend time at the casino than come home to the life you picked out. And before you start accusing me of favoritism, Mom didn’t do shit either. You want to talk about romanticizing the past? Take a look in the fucking mirror.” Fists clenched against her side were blanched white at the knuckles, three decades of resentment spilling out in verbal blows that Sam knew she couldn’t take back. Nor did she want to, not tonight. “The Williams raised me. And when they were gone, I raised myself and I did a damn good job at it.” 

Some part of her would regret this moment later when his features came to mind, the shame and clear heartbreak written across them undeniable. “I didn’t realize that’s how you felt.” They had backed up fully into her living room, or perhaps she simply cornered her father with truthful criticisms when he’d only wanted to help. So much for repairing their relationship. “Yeah, well... I ruined your lives so I guess it’s only fitting that you ruined mine.” Arms crossed protectively over her middle, both avoiding one another’s gaze out of mutual hurt and then she heard the door unlock. 

“I wish you hadn’t come back here, Samantha.” 

While sounding bad on the surface, she knew full well it was meant as a last olive branch and proof that he loved her despite the vitriol, but Sam’s throat had tightened too far to respond. He slipped out into the evening air and despite how she wished to move, or scream, or burst into a thousand shards to match her internal schism, both feet remained firmly planted for several minutes. 

Then she darted across to her purse, snatching it up along with the sweater draped along the back of her sofa. No phone, she didn’t need to talk anymore. At least no one listed in there.

–––––

One bottle of some cheap rosé from the grocery store later and she was back on the road, navigating some vaguely familiar route down the coast. GPS wound up becoming necessary at some point much to her embarrassment, but twelve years away wasn’t nothing and darkness made fools of everyone. Her car pulled into the cemetery parking lot and for a minute she simply sat with the engine idled, replaying pieces of their conversation in her mind. Not just with her father, but Fletcher, Grace, Jesse, Naomi... People who existed in her former life that now began slotting into this new, convoluted one. 

The gate’s lock was either open already or rusted by the sea air, but it hardly mattered because Sam entered without much barrier. Weaving through headstones, she discovered that the path to her destination sprouted from memory which was altered by nighttime shadows and the fickle mistress of time. After getting turned around once, she eventually made it and settled into a small plot of grass, unscrewing the lid of her bottle and toasting in mock cheers to her company.

                        In Loving Memory of Brooke Williams

The sight alone was enough to tighten something imperceptible within her chest, washed away by the peachy drink and a half-hearted joke. “Sorry for sitting on you, but that should be nothing new. Kick me off if you hate it.” Talking to a ghost as if the long deceased girl were able to hear felt stupid on about three hundred levels, but Sam hadn’t been granted the privilege of catching up for so long. And after arguing with her parent, she just needed her best friend and other half. 

“I think that maybe... everything in my life is temporary now,” she admitted to the silence. “And sometimes I can even convince myself that I’m okay with it. Never attaching myself to anybody or anything.” Mostly through her own design, sabotaging any concept of permanence before it, too, could be ripped away without warning. A self preservation measure concocted when she was far too young; no kid should delve so far into their own fear that they only knew how to run. “Except here. I feel like I keep circling back to this place and these people... And you. Always you.” For someone who only an hour previous claimed to raise herself, she truly did an immaculate job at creating an adult who wound up successful, capable, and so unbearably alone.

Maybe she should have called Fletcher instead, the thought interjected itself and became quickly dismissed. Hadn’t enough trouble been thrust upon his shoulders? And Grace’s? Stripped of their entire family in the course of a single night, tossed into a system which spat them back out, and molded to fit a world that clearly didn’t give a shit. The last thing either one needed was a reminder walking back through their door, but she had with such unfathomable selfishness. Perhaps guilt brewed in the pit of her stomach over how she treated her father tonight or that continuous fear of making the wrong move, but uncertainty brought the rim to parted lips once more.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore, B.” It was easier to draw honesty from her bones out here, less like pulling water from a stone with only a bottle and the faint ocean breeze answering back. Rather than eerie or unsettling, the dim light provided a quiet comfort of remaining unseen in the midst of such raw admittance. “I don’t think I belong in this city like I used to, but I’m scared––” There was that thickness in the far reaches of her throat again. “I’m afraid that if I don’t belong in Oceanside then I don’t really belong anywhere. So what the hell do I do?”

She had belonged once, in a flickering memory of happiness that remained pure despite life’s valiant attempts to extinguish it. Friendship bracelets with her name misspelled on accident. Brooke telling Fletcher he could only join their pillow fort if he killed the spider inside. Grace’s laughter from beneath the hood of an old car as she threw a grease laden rag at Mr. Williams. They were supposed to grow old together, buy houses on the same street, live out impossibly normal lives. So beautifully mundane in their cookie cutter regularity. Even after the worst overtook them, she had been naïve enough to believe in some echo of that future; a broken shell, but enough to keep her head above water.

In that alternate time, Grace taught her to drive manual and took Sam to get her license, the pair bonding in a way that she only dreamed of as a child who idolized the eldest Williams beyond words. She would have thanked the brunette for being the only stable adult in her life and the only one worth counting on. In that alternate timeline, she got Fletcher trashed on his twenty-first birthday and sat on the bathroom floor with him all night in apology. She would have told him the truth at some point, even if he didn’t reciprocate. So many what if’s that were robbed before they even began and now she grasped at smoke, unable to hold it between desperate fingers. Why couldn’t she just let things go like a well adjusted person? Why did she leave claw marks etched into every memory?

More wine, but this time it tasted distinctly of saltwater as the wind brushed over damp cheeks.

[eirian-houpe]

Disparate Pathways - Chapter 14

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 14 - Fortress

The chiming of the grandfather clock roused Gold from his bitter reverie, and in a single motion he crumpled the single sheet of paper still on the desk beside his hand, and rose to his feet to take it to the fireplace in the lounge. He hadn’t meant to light a fire until morning, but after the message he just received from Jefferson, he knew he would be getting little sleep, and so it would be good to be warm. Two birds, one stone.

He used the sheet of crumpled paper to light the kindling, onto which he built his fire. He knew he should answer Jefferson, but he wasn’t going to do anything until he was certain of his own safety. Storybrooke had been his haven, a shelter from the threat of unfinished business, and he wasn’t about to put that in jeopardy. Not for any reason.

If they found him, it was only a step of logical thought for them to find Bae, and he was not going to let that happen.

Moving slowly, leaning heavily on his cane, he made his way to the bookcase in the corner of the room, and reaching to the top shelf took down his copy of Selected Poems of Robert Burns and flipped the book open to the back cover, and ran his fingertips along the edge, where the cover met the spine. He quickly found the roughened area where glue had replaced the stitching and with his fingernail, began to chip away at the glue as he walked with the book toward the kitchen.

It was much easier to open the space within the spine of the book where the small, silver key was hidden with the aid of a sharp knife. Still he was careful.  He didn’t want to damage the book any more than was necessary to access the key. Once it was in his hand, he set the book down on the kitchen table, and grabbing the flashlight from the small shelf beside the back door, headed out into the yard, and to the basement.

He was careful as he descended the steps, feeling for the edge of each with his cane even while looking at the steps barely illuminated in the dim light given off by the flashlight, and for perhaps the hundredth time reminded himself that he really should rewire the switch to the light so that it was at the top of the steps, and not on a pull cord at the bottom. Still, he reached the floor of the basement without incident and turned on the overhead light.

As he always did when he came down to the basement, he let his eyes settle over the spinning wheel he kept in the corner, beside the small loom. Neither were unused. In fact, he took a strange kind of pride in spinning his own yarn for the crafts he pursued, and the fabric he made on the loom. Some, he sold in the shop, others he used to augment the furnishings in the properties he owned. It was, and he sighed, a legacy of the time he sought to escape - his only means of escape - when the melancholy took him.

He shook it off. He had to. Almost ten years since he’d had any contact with Jefferson Milnor, and he didn’t imagine that after all that time the FBI Agent was contacting him on a whim. It could only mean that the man was in serious trouble.

He edged his way past the wheel, careful not to disturb it, to the door set in the far wall, and pushed the tiny key into the padlock that secured it shut. He stopped then. Why the hell should it matter to him what kind of trouble the man was in…?

”Really…?” the woman others would have called their mother but who, for him, could never be further from the maternal figure she named herself, swaggered in, hips swaying beneath her crisp black suit. The fascinator perched on the side of her head swayed as she came to a halt, dark feathers waving as though in an imperceptible breeze. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out what you were planning?”

He stilled in the thrall of a terrible memory. The memory of his debt.

She stalked toward him, then around, finger trailing around him as she circled him. Her heels made a regular beat against the concrete floor of the hanger.

“I don’t ask for much,” she said. “You know that. Have you enjoyed privilege so long that you’ve forgotten what loyalty means?”

“Loyalty?” he scoffed. Privilege? Us takin’ the risks while you sit around playin’ God? Never a care for what the likes of us must dae to keep ye—”

“If you’re going to argue with me, at least have the decency not to sound so beastly!” she snapped. “But, no…” She appeared to be having a conversation with herself. “You know what I expect, and the cost of failing me.” She barely turned her head to instruct, over her shoulder, “Bring the boy.”

“No!” his voice rang out but once, before he fell to stammering, “You… y-y- ye can’t.  Please, not ma boy… he didn’t ever do anything wrong. Never crossed you.  That… that was me - would-a-been-me.  Please…”

“Oh, please… please don’t… he can’t…” she mocked him. “It’s different, isn’t it, when it’s one of your own?”

“Please… don’t… don’t hurt him,” he continued, heedless of her sarcasm.

She snapped her fingers and the green clad woman stepped up along side two other men who half dragged, half carried the struggling Baethan between them.

“Papa…!” Bae implored.

“It… It’ll be all right, Son,” he said, but Fiona interrupted him again.

“No… no I rather think not. You see, Baethan, your father’s not the man I thought he was, and unfortunately, that means you are the one that has to pain the price.”

Gold almost physically shook himself to break the replay before it could go further. Night after night he woke to the nightmare of his son’s pain, and the deep explosive sound of the gunshots that saved him… saved them both.

As if in sympathy, a burst of pain spread upwards from his ankle and into his calf, and he leaned heavily on the doorway he had been about to unlock.  No… he could not deny that he owed Jefferson his life, and more than that, the chance of life for his son.

With a flick of his wrist, and before he could second guess himself again, Gold released and removed the padlock, and pulled open the door to the room beyond. He reached around the doorway, his fingers brushing cobwebs as he flicked on the light, and then stepped within.

Allowing himself only the further delay of a deep breath, he moved toward a bank of electronic equipment, and flipped the switch to turn it on, watching as one by one lights blinked to life and the muted whir of cooling fans filled the air. As the blinking of lights became steady, he pulled out the sliding shelf on which a keyboard rested, and reached to turn on the screen to the computer, to enter the code, rendered in the same cypher as the one used by Agent Milnor in his message, that would activate the security system.

Never. Again!

**

“Jesus, Gold, you look like crap!”

“Good morning to you too, Sheriff Swan,” he replied to her greeting as he grounded his cane between his legs in front of him, both hands folded over the ornate handle.

“Yeah,” she huffed, “that too.” Standing from behind her desk, she snatched the bunch of keys from the top of it and began to move toward the two cells, one of which - as usual - was occupied by Leroy. It seemed to Gold like he was either the town drunk, or the town trouble maker. “Come to offer your services to our friend here?”  She nodded toward where the man in question sat with his head in his hands, evidently nursing the mother of all hangovers.

“Hardly,” Gold said dryly. “I doubt Mister Maren could afford my services, and even if he could, unless he’s committed a greater crime than drinking himself into a stupor…?”

He trailed off, affording the sheriff the opportunity to fill him in on the details, if there were any to be had. Instead it was Leroy that answered.

“Oh, go to hell, Gold,” he moaned and winced as he raised his head from his hands, squinting at the light as he did so, and then moaned again as the sheriff - deliberately, as far as Gold could tell - rattled the keys against the cell door as she unlocked it. “What would you know about drinking yourself into oblivion.”

You’d be surprised, Gold thought, as the sheriff admonished the drunk to keep his nose clean and not to end up in her cells again for at least another month. Small chance of that, Gold decided as the sheriff turned back to him.

“So, if you’re not here for Leroy, what are you here for,” she asked. “Doesn’t seem like you to be making a social call.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he assured her with a viper smile. No reason he couldn’t kill two birds with one stone, and it might provide him with a better chance to do as he came for. “Simply to remind you that Miss Blanchard instructed me to call upon you for this month’s rent.”

“Ah, shit!” she answered, mumbling to herself afterwards, “I knew there was something I meant to do yesterday.”  Then to Gold, she added, “Take a check?”

“I prefer cash,” he said smoothly.

“Of course you do,” she muttered.

“The bank is open,” he suggested, staring down at the pocket watch he had drawn from his waistcoat.

“Can’t leave the station unmanned,” she said.

“I’m certain I could answer any phone calls that might occur during your brief absence,” he said.

“I just—” she began, but he interrupted her.

“After today, I’m afraid I’ll have to impose a ten percent late fee.”

“Ten perc—” she spluttered. “That’s outrageous!”

He spread his hands. “And yet, if you’d care to examine the terms of the lease, which you signed, I think you’ll find it’s quite clear.”

He fixed her with a level stare, until eventually, she threw up her hands.

“Fine!” she said in a tone that told him it was anything but fine. “Don’t touch anything. She told him as she pulled her red leather jacket from the back of her chair and shrugged into it as she walked toward the door, calling back, “Except the phone. You can touch that… but only if it rings.”

“What do you take me for, Sheriff Swan?” he asked with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.

“You don’t want me to answer that.” Her voice drifted in from the hall beyond the glass divide.

As soon as she was out of sight, Gold moved around to take the chair behind the sheriff’s desk and pulled the keyboard closer to him. He knew he wouldn’t have much time to do as he needed to, so quickly using a workaround for the not-so-secure Town of Storybrooke municipal server, and then logged himself in through remote access to his own VPN, he accessed the portal to the wider law enforcement networks.

What seemed like centuries ago now, he had created a ghost login with a high security clearance in the event that he had to do something like this; hoping that he never had to.

As soon as he was connected, he ran a search for disturbances and BOLOs in Boston and the surrounding areas.

A shiver of ice stiffened his spine when he read of the multi-agency raid on an estate on the western edge of the Greater Boston area believed to be the center of a human trafficking organization, and a hotbed of drug use and supply. He swallowed hard, recognizing the modus operandi of his mother’s nest of vipers and villains from which he’d managed to make his costly escape. Jefferson had been a young agent undercover then. Was he still?

The raid appeared to have gone badly, with many agents injured, several dead, and he found himself hoping, strangely it felt to him, that Agent Milnor was not among them, but no. The man was like a cat with at least eight of his lives remaining. He knew eight because he had been the one responsible for the loss of the ninth.

Listening for the telltale footfalls that would signal the sheriff’s return, he continued searching, making the assumption that Jefferson had escaped - but where would he go? He heard the squeak of the door - thank the gods for the town’s lack of maintenance - just as he spotted it: the report of an officer involved shooting, well, two officers to be exact and they appeared to have been on the receiving end of said shots, at a disused shopping district several miles outside of Boston. There was an associated BOLO for a stolen Ford Taurus, an agency car, and a warning that the perpetrator was armed and dangerous, and appeared to have a hostage in tow.

It had to be Milnor, but who the hell did he have with him?

Out of time, he quickly emailed the information to himself, shut down his access and switched logins to guest where he pulled up a game of Solitaire and made a few, deliberately careless moves, and was just making a concentrated effort to make a few more when Sheriff Swan walked into the room.

“Gold!” she snapped, and he looked up at her with a sardonic smile. “I told you not to touch anything.”

“You expected me to stand the whole time on this leg?” he tapped his ruined ankle with the end of his cane before looking back up at her with his head tilted to the side.

“And the computer?” she folded her arms across her chest.

“Bored,” he said, then added, “Rent?”

Sheriff Swan came around the side of her desk just as he pushed himself to his feet. She huffed. “Wouldn’t have taken you for a Solitaire kind of guy.” He simply raised an eyebrow, and she fished a stuffed envelope out from her pocket and thrust it in his direction. “It’s all there.”

“I don’t doubt it, Sheriff,” he said as he took it and then moved around her, wound as tight as a spring, but trying to appear as confident as always. He made it all the way to the door before he turned back to her and said, “I’m not.”

“Hmm?” she asked.

“I much prefer the game where you have to work out where all the bombs are hidden.” He wrinkled his nose in a little sneer as he said, “I love the sound they make when they go off.” Then with barely a pause added, “Good day, Miss Swan.”

[ad1thi]

3000

this caps at 3676 words, which is the most ive written ever; and this fic is my absolute baby i have never slaved over something more so please give her some love

--

Morgan Stark was, is, a strange woman

She’s quiet where her father was loud, stoic where her mother is loving, calm where her family is grieving

--

She wasn’t always like this

She hears snippets from her mother when Mom thinks she’s asleep; of how loud and boisterous and full of life she was

The tipping point, her mother muses over a glass of wine to Zia Nat, was her sixth birthday party

--

See Morgan, Morgan isn’t like everybody else

Everybody else got back their father and husband and brother and son in the Great War

Morgan lost hers

She was 3 years old, but her father always said she was exceptionally smart for her age

but this, this she didn’t quite understand until she was 6 years old

She knew her father had died, he’d died saving everybody’s life of course she knew that (how could she forget when its all anyone talked about, its all she saw all around her, the consequences of his death) but she never knew quite what it meant until her sixth birthday

--

The house is loud, louder than it usually is

Mom has invited ‘round all of her friends, and all of Morgan’s classmates from school too

There’s a healthy amount of awe and wonder in the room, and Morgan; Morgan is sitting in her room watching the hologram her father left for her sixth birthday

God, you’re growing up so fast,” hologram-him says, six already huh tesero? six is a big year isn’t it, first year of elementary, carrying your own lunches like a borghese, god i’m so proud of you. i want you to remember to enjoy yourself this year huh tesoro? ti amo 3000

Its how her mother finds her, moving towards a hologram that frozen in the motion of cupping her cheek; and tilting her head ever so slightly to put into the empty space that his hand’s left

“mai?” Morgan whispers, when she feels a hand on her shoulder, “he’s never coming back?”

“No mon coeur,” her mother whispers, and she crumbles like a marionette has cut her strings

--

After that, she changes

--

She knows what’s expected of her

The daughter of Anthony Edward Stark, grand daughter of Howard Walter Stark, niece of the Avengers

(if anyone ever asked, she’d tell them how much she hated the labels)

--

She’s subdued in class, makes 2 friends her entire year and keeps to herself

(Riri and Kamala are blessings)

She’s whipsmart but she never raises her hand, runs like a dream but never tries out for track; and only paints when nobody else is watching

--

On her eighth birthday, when she opens the door to see Uncle Steve’s hopeful face; she closes it 

“I don’t want them here,” she says, making it half way up the stairs before turning around and saying, “Maybe Uncle Bucky can stay”

--

When she’s 14, Uncle Bucky asks her what she wants for her birthday as they’re looking over the lake near her house and she says “I want you to teach me how to fight”

And he nods once

--

They start with the basics, hand to hand combat; and graduate to knifes and guns within a matter of months

He only asks her once why she wants to learn and she says, “My father was Tony Stark. It’s in my blood”

He smiles at all, all bloody from where she managed to clock his nose and never asks again

--

guardati tesoro mio, her father says on her fifteen birthday, all grown up and shit. do a little spin for your papa, let him see what you’re wearing

and its a hologram and she knows he’s not really there; but she spins anyway

fifteen, thats a big year right? Taylor Swift’s got a song about it and everything

He walks towards her, bending down so they’re eye level and Morgan swears she can feel their nose touching

it means you’re going on dates and shit, and i don’t know how i feel about that, his nose scrunches up like he’s smelt something foul, i guess i’ll just have to greet all your dates wearing the ironman suit huh. god thats a brilliant idea; weed out the weak ones by seeing who pees themselves or who gets overly cocky

Morgana he says, turning sharply from where he’s ranting, your dad is a genius, never forget that

“mai” she whispers into the open air, tears falling freely

--

Every year, her mother asks if she can invite the avengers over for her birthday, and every year Morgan says no

There are exceptions of course

Zio Rhodey, Zia Natasha, Uncle Bucky

Peter when he has time to spare, and Harley whenever he isn’t holed up in an SI workshop

but never anyone else

--

The first time Morgan brings Riri home and introduces her as her girlfriend instead of her bestfriend, an Ironman suit falls out of the sky

Her mother flinches back on instinct, Riri pales, and Morgan laughs until she cries

“Protocol: Tesoro is initiated,” intoned the automated voice before it shifts to the lilt of her father, “So, you wanna date my daughter”

“Yes sir,” Riri squeaks from where she’s hiding behind Morgan, and her mother is trying desperately not to cry

There’s a pregnant silence before her father’s voice says,”Her background checks out, you can date her”

and Morgan is turning to press her lips to Riri’s cheek; mindful of the glint in Riri’s eyes when she moves past the fear and takes in the armour, and thinks to herself no, i can’t

--

“Why Bucky,” her mother asks once, “You let nobody else in but you let in Bucky. Why Bucky?”

Morgan takes in a deep breath, “Zio stays because he’s the closest thing I have to a father. Zia stays because she’s the closest thing you have to a lover,” Morgan ignores the flush on her mother’s cheek, “and Bucky stays because he’s the only person who sees me”

“Je t’adore mama, but you see me and you also see Papa, they see me and they see Papa”

“Bucky? Bucky just sees me”

--

She’s 25 and still dating Riri, who’s around more than she’s not; now that she’s working under Zio Rhodey

It’s late at night, and Morgan extracts herself from Riri’s limp arms- shrugs on the first piece of clothing she can find, makes her way down the stairs

She takes in a deep breath, and turns on her father’s interface for the first time in 22 years

It’s still one of the most advanced pieces of technology out there; even if Morgan is cataloging all the ways she can make it better

“Pull up,” her voice cracks, ‘Pull up my father’s last project”

and in front of her, the room lights up in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted

--

She applies and gets a job at Pym Industries, and her mother furrows her brow but congratulates her all the same

She moves up the ranks seamlessly, except for one isolated incident when she drop kicks someone and sends them to the hospital because they call her little miss

Hope Pym adores her, and she gets privileges in R&D that she knows nobody else has

(she doesn’t know if its because she’s Tony Stark’s daughter, or because Hope genuinely thinks she’s that smart- but she doesn’t question it)

And there, after hours, in the laboratory where it all started; she puts her plan into motion

--

When she’s 27, Zio Rhodey falls sick

She’s in the middle of hour 73 of her work binge, and she’s so close to recreating the Pym Particles when an arm on her shoulder startles her and throws her into a defensive position

Her mind clears slightly when her would-be attacker’s head is between her thighs, and she scrambles back in shock when she realises its Riri

“When I said I was into trying new things in bed,” Riri’s voice is raspy from where Morgan’s knee pressed against her throat, “this isn’t what I had in mind”

“What are you doing here?” she asks, pointedly ignoring the bruises forming around her neck

“Its your Zio Rhodey,” she says solemnly, and there’s a tang in her voice when she says Zio; a word that doesn’t belong on Riri’s tongue, “he’s in the hospital”

Morgan is numb all over, going through the motions as she saves her work and slips on her jacket

She’s silent on the drive over to the hospital, fingers drumming against the door of the car

Logically, she always knew her parents were much older than most; her mama was on the verge of 40 when they had her and her father was pushing 54 when he died. She always knew that Zio Rhodey was growing old, but she never expected it to catch up to him quite this quickly

“Hi there squirt,” he whispers from the hospital room, moving up to clasp her face in his hands before groaning in pain

She rushes over and eases him back into a comfortable position, raising his hand to her mouth and kissing the back of his palm lightly, “What’s this then Zio Rhodey?”

He sighs, “The braces that your father built me gave out on me, and I fell down a flight of stairs”

She gets up, looking around for the braces, “I have a toolkit in the car I can tweak it a bi-”

She’s cut off when Zio pulls her down with surprising force, “Have I ever told you?” he asks, like she hadn’t spoken, “how much you remind me of your father?”

She slumps against the chair and indulges him, “Only everytime you see me”

He grimaces slightly, “I do say it a lot don’t I?” 

“It’s only because I see so much of him in you squirt. His drive, his big heart, his desire to help everyone,” he nods slightly at Riri, “his taste in women”

He moves slightly when Morgan squats at him, cackling; and Morgan pretends the hand squeezing around her heart is fear that Zio might not make it the night

“I know I’m not your real father,” he says softly, reaching out to cup her face, “but I do love you like my own Morgana”

“And he would be so proud of you”

His eyes go glassy just then, washing over and un-focusing, and she’s about to call for a nurse when her Zio says, “Tony? Why the fuck have you grown out your hair then?”

and it clicks

Dementia

She turns to Riri to ask how they all could’ve missed this, but her gaze is furtive and it takes but a second for Morgan to realise that the only one who missed this was her

--

“How could you not tell me?” she roars, as Riri stares defiantly back, “he is my Zio!”

“He asked me not to, said he didn’t want to burden you while you were busy with your work,” Riri replies, “Plus, you never step out of that lab anywhere I was sure nothing short of a heart attack would remind you that he even exists”

“That is a low blow Ri”

“Is it?” Riri stands up, “I don’t see you, Peter and Harley work ‘round the clock to make sure Pepper doesn’t miss her daughter, and I cannot remember the last time you came over for dinner”

“My work is important!” she yells, but she might as well have been yelling into empty air, because Riri’s face hardens

“So are we Morgan,” she’s near the door when she turns back and says, softly, “I know losing your father hit you hard. But you still have a parent who’s alive”

--

Morgan and Riri break up the next day

Morgan always knew it was coming, ever since Riri became Ironheart

She just never expected it so soon

--

She keeps a constant vigil at Zio’s bedside, until the hospital kick her out

She can’t go back to her lab, not when he’s so fragile; so she cashes in all her leave from the last 3 years and shows up to the cabin with a large suitcase

“Morgan?” her mother’s grown so frail, and Morgan feels a stab of regret that she hasn’t been around more

“Je suis ici mama,” her mother crumbles against her like like there's nothing holding her up anymore, sobbing into her shirt

“Je suis désolé, ça a pris si longtemps”

--

Her mother bustles around the kitchen, clearly desperate for anything to do

“Mama,” she calls out a few times, before getting up and physically grabbing her mother in her arms and stilling her

“Mama its okay,” she says softly, guiding her to the sofa, “you don’t have to do anything”

“Mon coeur, you’ve come home after so long and I can’t even cook for you,” her mother has gotten so weak without Morgan noticing, and the guilt festers

Riri was right, she had forgotten about her mother, too caught up in her work

She runs her fingers through her mother’s hair, manoeuvring her so they’re on the sofa, “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long Mama,” she whispers

“but I’m here now”

--

Her leave gives her a full 2 months off and she splits her time between the cabin and the hospital, until Zio is ready to be moved to the cabin

She calls up Harley for the first time in 3 years and he comes down the following weekend, and they brainstorm over the ideas that her father left uncompleted

“20 years later and he’s taking me to school,” Harley whistles lowly, “not bad for a mechanic”

After dinner, Morgan curls up against her mother, who obligingly runs her piano fingers through Morgan’s hair

“Harley’s good at SI,” she starts off, “did business as a minor in Stanford”

Her mother hums, “I’m half convinced he’s your father’s bastard”

“You should name him CEO,” she turns so she’s facing her mother completely, “he’ll be good”

She stills above Morgan, “you,” she pauses and takes a breath, “you don’t want it?”

She shakes her head, and pretends like she doesn’t see how her mother’s entire body shakes

“Your father did always like to be left to his own devices,” she says finally and if Morgan tries really hard, she can pretend like she hasn’t disappointed her mother, “I’ll talk to the Board tomorrow, but they’re going to give me hell”

Her mother sounds so defeated Morgan almost takes it back, but the photo frame of her papa and mama catches her eye; and she holds her tongue

--

She finagles and negotiates with Hope, and gets permission to work from home.

(not that Hope had much choice, Morgan had set Pym Inc decades ahead of every company and finally put them in close competition with Stark Industries, but it was the principle of the thing)

A team of 5 come in and renovate the basement into a lab that’s workable, and Morgan breathes easier

She spends her days with her mother and Zio Rhodey, and her nights

working

--

“Pull up the simulation again,” she says into the open air and pulls apart the mobius strip, running each equation individually

“JOCASTA,” she calls out, “run the enhanced Pym Particles against my father’s software”

She rummages around the mini fridge for juice pops, sucking the first one in her mouth 

“Simulation complete,” her best decision by date was to give JOCASTA an italian accent

She turns back to the screen, and stumbles back into her chair

“Shit,” she says, breathing heavily- looking but not comprehending the screen in front of her

“Shit,” she says again, because it bares repeating, because she is the third person to ever crack time travel

--

30 is a big year tesero, her father’s AI says as she slips into a red dress and walks down to greet the guests

After 22 years, she’s agreed to let the Avengers back onto the cabin; and the naked gratitude on Uncle Steve’s face when she moved aside instead of slamming the door like she did every year was another chink in that guilt deep in her gut

you’re so big now tesero, her father says, leaning against the wall when she wraps her arms around Riri and thanks her for coming

where does the time fly? the hologram dissipates when she comes near her Zio Rhodey, and she looks away as he dabs away a set of tears 

“i’m sorry squirt,” he says when he’s settled a bit more, “the holograms still get to me I guess. But 30 huh?” 

“Big day,” he says decisively before his eyes go glassy again

She wraps her hands around him, looking at the space left by her father’s hologram and thinks, you have no idea

--

--

Steve knocks on the door of the cabin, as he does every year

Sam is waiting for him in the car, stubbornly refusing to turn off the gas because she’s just going to turn us away man i don’t why we do this year every year

But he comes every year with Steve, so Steve suspects he knows why

(because Steve loved her father)

(because Steve killed her father)

(because Tony died to save everybody else)

Bucky left the Compound a few hours earlier, since he’d promised Pepper and Nat that he’d help with the cake

That had taken some time to get used to, the fact that Morgan allowed Bucky to be a part of her life and not Steve

(in the darkest parts of his mind, Steve admits that he hates it, that he wanted to be the one teaching Morgan to protect herself, to be the one loving her)

He knocks on the door and waits, and like clockwork Morgan opens the door and assesses him like he’s under a microscope

And then

She moves aside, letting him in

Steve’s knees threaten to buckle, but he holds it together just long to ask, “Are- are you sure?” 

She stares at him mulishly, and Steve can’t help but compare it to a pre coffee Tony, “Are you looking to piss me off Rogers? Come in before I change my mind, and tell Birdbrain in the Maserati to turn off his engine because he’s killing the planet my father gave his life to protect”

Steve nods like she’s a drill sergeant and she shifts inside, seemingly satisfied with that 5 second interaction

--

Steve is on alert the entire party, flitting between being elated to celebrate Morgan’s 30th with her and wary that she’ll kick him out

She disappears upstairs once everyone’s trickled in, and comes down in a simple red summer dress, hair slicked back

There’s a hologram of Tony hovering behind her, muttering in her ear, and it knocks the air out of him, because he’s here but he’s not all at the same time and Steve dimly wonders if the pain of losing Tony Stark will get any easier

(from the glistening cheeks around him, and the surreptitious way Morgan wipes her eyes, the answer seems to be no)

The crowd moves around Morgan and her father, as if Tony’s really here instead of just a product of his tech; but dissipates into the air when Morgan goes over to Rhodey

Rhodey, who’s in a wheelchair

Everyone around him is frail and old, the signs of ageing so evident on their face and physique; while Bucky and Steve look like they’ve just touched 40

Morgan is settled down in Rhodey’s lap and laughing at something that he said, but there’s this gleam in her eyes that sits with Steve wrong, which is why he makes his way over to Peter

His relationship with Peter was hard work, almost a decade of back and forth before he let his guard down around Steve and joined the Avengers under his command

“Hey,” he says, smoothly cutting through whatever conversation Harley and Peter are having, “Mind if I borrow the spiderkid for a second?”

Harley spread his arms wide, “He’s all yours. Damn idiot hurts my brain”

“I’m only 4 years younger THAN YOU!” Peter yells the last part to Harley’s retreating back, huffing when Harley gives him the bird - before turning to Steve, “What’s up?”

“You have your suit on you?”

Peter rubs at his chest where the nanites are stored, “Always. Everything okay?”

“Yeah I just,” Steve sighs, “Something seems off”

“Ah the Cap sense, never gets old”

“Just be alert okay?” and he waits for a second before he adds, “and keep an eye on Morgan. I don’t want her getting hurt”

--

They’re in the middle of dinner when Steve notices her slip away, glancing back and forth before making her way down to -

isn’t that the way to Tony’s lab?

He looks up and catches Peter’s eye, nodding once before following Morgan

Its not easy, Bucky obviously taught her well, but Steve’s been hiding from Bucky since before she was born

She punches in the override code and slips in, and Steve has a 5 second warning to avert his eyes and she thumbs out of her dress

When he looks back, she’s slipped into something that resembles the undersuit Tony used to wear; but modified somehow

She’s very engrossed in the screen in front of her so its easy to follow her into the lab, but nothing can stop him from keeping quiet when he sees what she’s working on

--

--

“What are you doing with Tony’s time travel device?”

shit

Morgan turns to face Steve Rogers, adjusting the suit around her

“What are you doing here Rogers?”

“I asked first”

She chances a glance behind her, and the simulation needs a few more seconds to boot, she has to stall

Steve looks frozen between between going up and calling reinforcements, and making his way over to her, which works in her favour

She pulls at the last strap

“27 years ago,” she says, and there’s just a couple of seconds before all of this is fixed, “you killed my father.”

“I’m going back in time to save his life”

And before he can react, she presses down on the Pym Particles; closing her eyes as a blinding flash covers the room

--

--

Steve instinctively raises his arms against the light, and when he lowers them again, she’s gone.

Fin

--

hope you liked it!

--

italian translations:

tesoro- treasure borghese- commoner/ civilian/ middle-class person (its meant to be a joke not an insult) ti amo 3000- i love you 3000 mai- never guardati tesoro mio- look at you my treasure zio/zia- uncle/aunt

(all translations are taken off google translate!!)

french translations:

mon coeur- my sweetheart/ my heart j’adore mama- i love you mama je suis ici mama- i’m here mama je suis désolé, ça a pris si longtemps- im sorry it took so long

[gotmattitude]

walking on broken glass

WHO: Santana Lopez ( @trickstersantana ) & Matt Rutherford. With a cameo by Daisy!

WHAT: After avoiding the elephant knife in the room, Matt and Santana finally meet up at Undique to talk about things. Spoiler alert: Things get agitated.

WHEN: August 10th, 2019.

WHERE: Undique.

WARNINGS: Discussions of murder, stabbing, death, discrimination, threatening behavior, violence, and genocide. Lots of heavy stuff. 

Matt gets to Undique a little too quickly. Nerves always make him walk way too fast, and fuck, this shit makes him nervous. He books the room and texts Santana the number. As he waits, he considers summoning Sydney to vent before he and Santana actually talk, but decides against it. He wants this talk to be honest, and organic. Not some dumb speech he knows by heart. So he just sits on the floor, and takes a breath.

Santana walks to Undique reminding herself what she has for self defense. Who she has to defend herself against. Everyone who accompanied her to any tortured plane. Quinn, Marley, Kurt, Joe, Brittany, Elliott. And then Matt. The truth was slipping through her fingers and she keep trying to hold it up. But she had to change her strategy. She opens the door to the room. Matt is already there. "Hello Matt. You wanted to talk. Talk."

Matt's head snaps up, but he doesn't stand up yet. "Yeah." He looks back down, and takes a deep breath. "I know I fucked up that day. I thought... I don't know. I thought blind loyalty was what trust felt like. Which is fucked up. And I think I gotta look into that shit. Reevaluate how I see people or something. And, uh... the only reason I backed out of that deal was because I thought I'd get fucked up. I wasn't thinking about you, or why you were so desperate to do it. I--yeah. I'm sorry. I was selfish, and a dick, and I'm sorry." He looks up at her towards the end, and pulls at the hem of jeans, fingers itching for a distraction. "I wasn't sad--I was angry, when you were missing. I was fucking mad that you tried to stab me and I was the one hanging around feeling guilty. And I think that's still in there, or some shit. But I didn't think. Which is bullshit, because I'm always fucking talking about privilege and I--" he shuts his eyes for a second. "That's not the fucking point. Santana, you're--you don't need to be human to... I don't know. To be worthy? I was... wrong. I should have... I'm sorry."

Santana looks unimpressed. "That doesn't sound like blind loyalty to me. You wanted to give it all, but you couldn't." He had to say it. 'Desperate'.  'You don't need to be human when that's not what she wants to hear' .She wants to call him out but she waits for him to finish it all. She waits, getting more and more annoyed. "You're angry. Then don't fucking apologize." She illusions some knife to play with. "What's your fake sorry for? You're 'sorry' this ended up like this. You are sorry you didn't act 'perfectly' just as I wanted. You are sorry so I apologize too. I'm not going to apologize for shit, Matt. I am not sorry." She throws the illusory knife to Matt. "That's still there or some shit, uh? Then fucking get it out. Stop trying to be a good friend and say what you really feel!"

Santana:  1d7 Attack to Matt = (5) = 5

Matt:  1d7 counter santana = (7) = 7

Matt remembers why they're fighting again. Santana can be so frustrating. "No, you're right, it's not blind loyalty to let someone lay you on an illusory magic circle on the floor to achieve a purpose neither of you fucking understand!" He kind of wishes he could just make her understand, but that's not the point of this whole bullshit. It's not. "Oh, yeah, you're right! Because I'm goddamned Tinkerbell and I can't have more than one feeling at a time? And that makes my apology fake!" The knife comes at him, and he throws himself to the side, and his swinging leg hits her as he avoids it. "Fine! You want me to say what I feel? I think you're frustrating as fuck, and I still think you're my friend, and I'm still sorry, and I'm still mad!" He scrambles to his feet, and crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm trying to apologize for being a dick, and you fucking attack me! You tried to fucking stab me, and that doesn't mean I didn't fuck up too! Shit is more complex than me sucking up to you, Santana!"

Santana falls to the floor, but stands up again, stepping down from Matt. "You were the one who didn't understand!"  She corrects him. Santana laughs bitterly, after Matt's rant. "Hell, that's more like it! Thats way more real!"  She illusions the magic circle under Matt again. "Yes. I did that. Well, I tried more than just stab you. I didn't plan for you to die, or get hurt, thought. I trusted you wouldn't die. I trusted you wouldn't get hurt. It is a trust ritual, you know?" She shrugs and smiles. "And well, if it didn't work... you were a risk I was willing to pay." The illusory magic circle painted on the floor under Matt shines and shadows appear to get him. "You're my dear friend too. Just so it happens that we both are really dangerous when we have to get our way."

Santana:  1d7 Santana attack to Matt = (1) = 1

Matt:  1d7 counter = (6) = 6

Matt throws his hands up when Santana tries to correct him. "You fucking told me yourself you don't know what becoming human means! You're just being stubborn because you want to think you were being smart!" Santana has a fixation with brutal honesty, and if she wasn't fucking attacking him, he'd spend more time pondering it. "I was a risk!" Matt laughs, but it hurts, like speaking too loudly when your throat is sore. "My life was a risk you were willing to take! Because, obviously, a knife in my chest doesn't have the goal of hurting me!" He almost doesn't notice the circle and the shadows, but he steps forwards and shoves her, a little harder than he'd meant to. "Why do you keep trying to hurt me?!" Matt's voice breaks just a little in the middle of the sentence. "Was that what you wanted this whole time? A friend to risk?" His breathing comes in quick, sharp bursts through his nose, and he bites his tongue. "Because I know what I wanted! I wanted to be--I just wanted to be important. Isn't that fucked up? If I was important--to you, to anyone, nothing else mattered! What did you want?"

"On a metaphysical sense! I knew the ritual was going to work" Santana lied. She had to trust it was going to work. "I'm always smart and you know that!" She lies again. Santana can see the word reached him, and yet he pushed it more. "Yes. You are correct. Except in the part of a knife on your chest. I wasn't going for your heart." Then Matt shoves her back, and he's pretty strong. He's an athletic dude and she is a fake illusory body. She steps back. Matt keep asking her questions. And she stops the illusions. She stops any fake expression of superiority. Trying to find an answer to the questions. "Being important? Isn't that what most people want?" She asks back. "For me, being important was always the back up plan. If I can't become human I can always become relevant. Doesn't matter how. As a villain, as a monster. Just being remembered" She admits. "Why do I hurt you? Or people, in general? I don't know, maybe that makes me important to them. Hate runs deeper than love." She walks around Matt. What she really wants. Her goal- She sees all her illusions failing. "What I wanted is to be a real person." She says, making illusions of herself while she walks, some running to attack Matt, others staying, walking around him, so she could get lost on the copies.

Santana:  1d7  = (2) = 2

Matt:  1d7 counter = (7) = 7

Matt wants to fucking scream. "Alright, sure! It was gonna work. Work how?" A part of him realizes she's going in circles because she was really that desperate to have things change. But everything is going so fast that he just wants her to get it. "I don't give a fuck which of my vital organs you wanted to fucking stab! You're telling me you thought a knife in my body wasn't going to hurt me. Just fucking admit--admit my entire-ass life was disposable for you!" He can see the drop in her expression, and his breath catches for a second. Maybe he can get to her, maybe there's something to this, maybe. "I don't know if that's what everyone wants. I want to be number fucking one in someone's life, Santana. Everyone I love has someone they give a shit about more than me. And I--I wanted--I want that. And I--I was almost willing to get stabbed for a mysterious shitty ritual for that shit!" Matt's breathing is quicker, a little erratic. A villain, a monster. He remembers he compared her to the monsters making bargains, and even though he never said it out loud, it's like the memory punches him. "Is that what you really want? To become human? Why did you stop that day? Why were you relieved?" Matt asks, a touch more quietly. "It doesn't. And I--I don't hate you. I just don't get it. You don't have to hurt me. We can just talk." Santana drops a bomb (metaphorically, thank fucking Aether), and then she starts multiplying, and it's almost overwhelming, but he takes a second, and spots the real Santana--he thinks. Wincing, he dashes towards her, and grabs her by the shoulders. His first thought is to shake her, but he suppresses that. "You're a real person, damn it! You have thoughts, and feelings, and yeah, you're right; always fucking smart. You've always been a real person. And I'm really fucking sorry that--that I helped you believe otherwise. But I was wrong. I was wrong."

Santana is getting angry with these questions she pretends she has an actual answer for. "Magic, jerk! What else!" She can admit it. That was the whole deal. Of course he was disposable. She doubted. C'mon, just fucking admit it all. Throw all the salt to the wound. All of it. "Of course you were disposable." Geez why do I feel bad about this? This was what she wanted to say. This was what she wanted Matt to know. Why is she even feeling guilty about? The goal is to make Matt angry about it. Whats the problem? That Matt is going to be sad about it?  She is getting angry and impatient. "You should give a fuck! You can live with a kidney less but you can't with a heart! Is not like I planned to kill you. I would rather keep you alive." She knows is super bullshit so she decided to make it all worse. "Number one uh? Well, just so you know, you weren't even my first choice for this. What's even your problem, Matt? That's so fucked up. Is that what our friendship was? Just you wanting to be number one for anyone, no matter who? Then are we so different? We were just using each other to get what we wanted." She smiles, trying to get back on a closed off attitude.  She gets annoyed. Why did she stop? Why was she relieved. "Is what I really wanted. Yes. And I don't know, maybe I just got paranoid it won't work with you because all our fucking conversations of you saying you're not fully 'human'" She remembers with annoyance. "Geez, Matt, what's wrong with you? You don't hate me, and what? You don't hate Yeyun either? Are you going to tell him to talk next time you see him?" She judges him. Matt then picks the real her and grabs her. She steps back again. "Oh, really?" She says, serious. "Am I a real person? Then, let's see. You found the real Santana between illusions. But can you pick up the real Santana now?" She says, turning into her animal form at the same time she summons Daisy and uses illusions to make the whole fucking zoo around Matt.

Santana:  2d7 This is not an attack. This is too see if you can recognize who is the real Santana = (4+2) = 6

Matt:  1d7 Animal recognition = (4) = 4

Matt wants to throw something. “‘Magic,’” he says adding air quotes around the words, “is not a fucking explanation. That’s like saying it was just gonna work because you believed really hard. And that’s some... sad as fuck bullshit but it’s still bullshit!” He knows she’d seen him as something to use, but the confirmation still feels like a blow to the pit of his stomach, and he lets out a sharp breath in response, like maybe it would help it sting less. “People are not paper cups, Santana,” he says, but he can’t fully suppress the wavering in his voice. “You can’t just take what’s inside and dump them where someone else will deal with them! I’m real fucking sorry that you had a shitty family, but you don’t get to do that shit and get away with it! I’m not—I’m not disposable, recycled, a piece of fucking trash!” Or maybe he is. He tries to shake those thoughts away. “Why would you rather keep me alive? To harvest more of my organs?” He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it at all. What is she saying? “Shut the fuck up, you know I didn’t do that shit. I fucking liked your company! I think you’re a fucking cool person! How goddamn terrible of me! If you were using me, then don’t project your motives onto me!” Matt remembers the humanity conversation, and now it’s obvious the ritual was what it was aimed for. “That’s bullshit. You could’ve stabbed me and made sure it didn’t work. That’s bullshit. If you didn’t think it was going to work, and I wasn’t even your fucking first choice, then why me?!” Matt asks, and Aether, what he would give to actually fully understand what Santana is thinking, for once. “You didn’t join an organization whose only fucking goal is to murder a group of people, including people I care about! But you know what? I don’t hate him,” he says, and as he says it, realizes he really, really doesn’t hate him. “Maybe that makes me a dumbass. But I don’t hate you, and I don’t hate Yejun,” his voice is thick with emotion towards the end of the sentence, and he kind of hates himself a little bit for it. Santana asks a much harder question, and Matt doesn’t know what to do. He knows Daisy, at least, and in the chaos of the animal illusions around him, he considers picking her because familiars are part of you, and all that shit. But this isn’t the time. “This is a neat trick, Santana, but how do you expect me to know you if I’ve never seen you like this?” AKA: I have no fucking clue. He stands with his arms crossed, looking at the floor and not at any of the animals around. “Hey,” he greets Daisy, tired and sad, and kind of wishing this conversation will either end or resolve itself magically. “I just want to understand you, Santana. That’s what I want right now.”

Santana makes illusions of her voice echoing around Matt, so he doesn't know where it comes from, while the circle of animals keeps circling around.  "Please, like I could explain how I do illusions any different. They just work" She illusions a bitchy laugh. "Hahaha...Am I not getting away with it, Matt? Are you sure? What are you going to do to stop it? Tell people?" She laughs again. "Are you going to tell Elliott? Blaine? The Cardines? Don't you think I have something worse to say about you?" She thinks of how to attack next. Throwing illusory knives out of no where. "I don't need more of your organs! Well, maybe I like your company too, and think you're cool too. But that is not going to stop me." She makes her own voice sound mad. Sounding angrier and angrier. "Why you? Not hating? Yes, Matt, you are a fucking dumbass. Stop this! You are not going to understand shit" Not even she understands it. "What? Why aren't you attacking? I though with this body it would be easier for you to hate me out of survival. Isn't that what happened at Brownstone? Why is this any different?" She says, this time with her own voice, breaking, vanishing the illusion and turning back into her human form. "What the fuck is there to understand, Matt?" She asks, and she can't manage to sound angry anymore.

Matt shakes his head. “Not the same thing. Your illusions might work because of magic but you control them. You’re throwing me illusions that serve your fucking purpose! You don’t just sit there and hope fucking God or some shit sends the right images into people’s heads to help you fight!” The voices echoing around him are kind of  creeping him out, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “You know what? I’ve been fucking blackmailed by someone a lot more dangerous than you! And you fucking scare me, but not as much as he did.” Matt tries and tries to spot her, but he can’t remember anything she’d ever said about her animal form. “I didn’t mean it like that, anyway. The justice system—it’s—that’s not what... You use people, and eventually they get fucking tired and fuck off! Is that how you want to live? With a never ending cycle of people you use and throw away?” Knives come out of nowhere, and he lifts an arm to cover his face on instinct, but when he lowers it, the illusions are fading before they even hit him. A spark of hope lights his chest. “What does that mean? Stop you from what? Luring me in with friendship and goddamn support just to ditch me if you fucked up and killed me?” He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a breath. “I don’t mean that. I think you didn’t really want to do it. But fuck. How long would it have taken anyone to fucking notice I was dead? Did you think of that?” Part of him really wants to know; maybe she had a spare healing potion, or maybe she wouldn’t have freaked out if he summoned Finn as he bled out. But part of him just wants to believe she didn’t mean to leave him there, bleeding to death in a room that wasn’t really home. “I guess I am a dumbass then! But when I care about someone, I keep on caring about them even when they abandon me, try to kill me, or decide I’m fucking expendable! So why don’t you fucking try me?” Her questions hit him hard in the pit of the stomach, and when he speaks, his voice is heavy.“I don’t hate you, and I didn’t hate them. I was—I just wanted them away from me. And I-I fucked up. But I won’t fuck up like that again. I don’t think... hurting you will stop you. I know better. I just want to talk. I just want to talk.” His muscles release when the illusion does, and his throat tangles into a knot. He has to swallow to level his voice. “You, Santana. I just want to understand you. Because you’re a fucking person, and we’re complicated as fuck.” Matt wants to say how much she’s meant to him, but the words get stuck in the knot that’s tightening back up in his throat.

Santana scoff because Matt is using logic and facts. "Oh, Puck? I can beat his ass just fine!" She knows that is not what matters. "I know that! Then why aren't you tired already?" She shouts, still a bit angry, but her anger drowning out. "Of course I don't fucking want to live like this, dick! I want to change! But doesn't matter how much I try! I just can't" She complains, walking with secure steps in Matt's direction. But he just keeps talking. She covers her ears for a moment. "Shut up shut up shut up!" She uncovers them and looks at Matt. "Luring? I told you! You weren't my first choice! I didn't saw you and said 'Oh, yeah, it would be that fucker!' You didn't seem that easy at all." Of course she didn't think of that. She would leave those problems for later. Her human her would deal with that. He keep saying he cares. "Shut up! Stop this bullshit! Talk about what? Do you think there is a explanation you would like? Do you want a fucking good excuse to keep hanging around? I'm bad, I hurt everyone and I'm going to keep being like this! Forever! I'm not going to change. I can't change, Matt!" She starts tearing up. "Not even... with...fucking...magic." That was it. That's the limit. Magic can do everything but that isn't it. That's why there is not a single instance of the ritual working out. Not on the book of Hamlet. Not on history. Never but in rumours of delusional tricksters.

Matt sighs, blood rushing in his ears. He is tired. But he's not tired enough yet. "Because you're my friend! Because you've been there for me through fucking everything! Because I hurt you too!" But it can't just be that, right? A person can't be doomed to never be better, can't be doomed to use people to her advantage for the rest of her life, right? Maybe they can be doomed to not be forgiven by one or two people, but... Not to be stuck. "Well, then there's something you're doing wrong! Something you're not seeing!" Aether, he really is tired. He's breathing like he just ran a marathon, his muscles shaky and weak. "Then why me? Why me, Santana? Why not anyone else?" If he's so disposable, he has to wonder who was even more disposable than he had been. But when Santana goes on her last tirade, he stops himself from speaking. He wants to yell, to ask her questions, to fucking get some answers. But something feels different, so he holds his breath. "Santana..." he starts, and stops to swallow, to try to collect his thoughts. "You're not... you're not bad. You just... you fuck up. But you didn't... you didn't stab me. You stopped. And you're... you're you. You're different, and strong, and you're my friend. And fuck--you can't change? What are you, God?" Matt tries for a small smile. "Are you telling me you've been exactly like this from the beginning? You've never changed your mind, or stopped feeling one way about something, or decided you were wrong about a choice you made? You can change. Fuck, you are changing. And it's--I just--yeah. Isn't it part of being friends? Changing together? Growing or some shit?" Matt really doesn't know what he's saying. He should probably shut up. "You're my friend, and I still--I still give a shit about you. I just wanna be sure you won't try to stab me again." Jesus fuck, why doesn't he just shut up?

Santana laughs, bitterly, cleaning some tears on her eyes with her hand. "I'm doing something wrong...clearly...ah...so simple"She frowns. That isn't new. That's not useful. "Just do things right...uh...why you? Well, it had to be a relationship build in trust, and when I tried with my 'ex' I got interrupted and I went to NYADA. Someone got ahead of me and tried to do the ritual with Blaine before I could, Ryder got into fucking werewolf camp, Mike died, Tina ended up being a selfish distrustful bitch, Kurt would never fall for it, and it's not like I can stab Elliott, you know? Who else but you? I trust you, Matt. And you trusted me." She smiles, sadly, touching Matt's face with her hand, giving him a soft, harmless slap like she was reminding something to a kid. She genuinely laughs at the god comment. "Ha...I don't want to be god." She is so tired. "Friends? Why do you keep saying that? Don't you have better friends? That's so sad, Matt...ah...change..."She Ieans on him, like she couldn't stand and let Matt hold her weight."...I just really gotten better at pretending..." She hugs him with one arm. More than that, she's using him as a weight to grasp. "If you keep doing this, I'm going to end up bringing you down with me."

Matt realizes how stupid what he said is when Santana starts laughing, but he still can't let go of the thought. There's something there. Something she's missing. Something he's missing. But he doesn't know what it is, so he just doesn't say anything about it. What really surprises him, and what leaves him blinking wide-eyed, is when she really starts talking about her entire... process. He starts ticking off people in his head, and each name she says sends a fresh jolt through his stomach. Those were mostly people that he didn't even know she was close to at any point. He makes a mental note to ask about Tina later on. Who else but him, in the end? A small, but sharp intake of breath keeps his tight throat at bay. "You trust me?" After everything, she trusts him? After what he did? Is it the blind trust she wanted from him that day? Or is it something else? "I still trust you," he says, and surprises himself. "Maybe not in the same way. Not that blindly. Not that... idealizing bullshit. But I haven't lost that." He flinches a little bit when she hits his face, softly as it is; he hadn't expected her to touch him. At least not without hitting him for real. "I don't want to be God either," he says, a side smile tugging quickly at his lips before fading. "It doesn't stop being true because you don't believe it," Matt says with a shrug, stumbling to one side when she starts leaning on him. "Are you okay?" He doesn't believe her. People change. It just takes a different kind of energy to be able to change for good, and not just in reaction. She grasps him, and his own muscles start shaking with the effort. "Santana?" Matt puts an arm around her, and tries to hold her up.

Matt tossed a coin and got TAILS!

The strain on his muscles is just too much, though. He gets down on one knee, first, and then the next, trying to bring her down carefully, panting for breath. "We'll just... we'll just stand back up in a sec, okay? I just--I just want to catch my breath." He lies flat on his back, and closes his eyes. "I just wanna breathe."

Santana laughs at Matt's response. "Really? That's what you ask? Oh man...still?...you have a huge problem. God... this is so fucking ridiculous." She says, looking at Matt. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are your abandonment issues THAT strong? Geez." She looks at him smiling at the minimum show of unhostility. Asking if she was okay. And tries to hold her up, and fails. She stands up with no problem. "I told you." She says, not sure what she is feeling right now. Worry, pity, anger. It was beginning to be uncomfortable. She mutters some swears in spanish. "You are fucking ridiculous! I can't believe this!" She says, starting to get away from Matt. "Fine! I'll let you lose this time, if you want it SO bad." She says, looking back at him. She was annoyed."At risk of repeating myself: This is not going to end well for you Matt. You can trust on that. But I hope it doesn't. Now what? Stand up! Do I have to bring you to the fucking hospital even when you dodged every attack?"

Matt stays there on the ground. Everything sounds sort of far away now, and Santana just keeps saying the same thing over and over. He's wrong, and he's got problems, apparently. "I don't have abandonment issues," he mutters, pushing himself up to his elbows. "I just..." he doesn't know how to end that sentence, so he just plops back down to the floor, shaking his head. "And what is, Santana? What is going to end well for me? I'd love to know that shit." He sighs, but now he just feels uncomfortable. Watched. "I'm being fucking dramatic. I'm fine. You can go, if you want. I'm good." He stares at the ceiling. "I'm tired, and a fucking disaster. I'll get going in a sec."

Santana gives Matt a smile with complicity, after hearing the total denial of an obvious reality. "Hey, people are shitty, we act as we can after all the bullshit, I guess." Matt asks what is going to end well for him. But he is just like her of course. She has no idea what's going for him, or what did he wanted. She always thought he'll got it easier. He'll got a chance, he's a doppel, please, that's basically a witch. He got a job. She always thought the lowest Matt could go could be the higher a trickster could go. Man, look who is envious of people who are also fucked up. "Ha...yeah, things are getting worse and worse. I guess we really are in the same sinking torture boat." She stays there. "Ah, I don't want to go now. Figures." She gets a bit of distance, leaning  on a wall next to the door to get out of there, looking at Matt. "Hey, dramatic disaster. I love you too."

Matt shrugs. "Yeah, I guess." He doesn't know what that means, not really. Maybe it means he's not actually that great at knowing people or their intentions. Everything just gets worse and worse. Probably even him, too. He hums in agreement. "Hope there's a lifejacket on this boat, 'cause I don't swim," he says bitterly, less tense. Matt glances back at Santana from his spot on the floor. Why wouldn't she want to go? Oh. There it is. It's kind of bizarre to hear, after everything that just happened, but it draws a small smile on his face as he looks away from her. "Cool."

Santana smiles a bit, still a little...sad? Confused? She isn't sure, and shakes her head. "No no, you have to learn to swim on this bitch of an Earth. Most of it it's fucking water." She still feels weird with everything that happened, for many reasons. And walks to Matt to give him a hand to stand up.

Matt nods, feeling like the energy had been sucked out of him by a necromancer again. "People drown anyway." He stares at Santana when she approaches, taking a moment to take her hand and pull himself up to his feet, and another to look at her, letting the silence stretch. "We should go. I need... a snack and a nap."

Santana looks at him "Then we'll put on a fight before that." She is actually a bit surprised he accepted the help. "Let's go. See you around, Matt."

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Local Teen fed up with Friends' Shit, Local Friends Having a Spat, Local Friends Fight a Ghost Instead of Each Other, Local Team of Youths Perform Exorcism

When Danny got to school, his friends were bickering, walking down the halls to their lockers stuck in a cyclical argument.   “This school needs change and I’m going to make sure it happens!”

“Nobody wants this but you and your vegans!”

“It’s healthier for you, better for wildlife and livestock and does less damage to the environment!”

“People literally need meat products in order to live, what about them?”

“There are supplements that can stand in for meat without slaughtering innocent animals that have no choice in whether they get murdered to feed us!”

“Just like you’re giving us no choice in our alternatives?”

Danny couldn’t stand it anymore and got between them both.   “Estrellas arriba, shut up! Go to class! No one wants to hear this screeching in the halls!”  Tucker and Sam both stared at him wide-eyed and red-faced but Danny was already pushing Tucker away since Sam was usually immovable.   “I can’t believe you guys.  You’re both so clever - how can someone so clever be so stupid?  How do you spend a week arguing over a temporary change that’ll never take hold?”  Sure, Danny’s angry ranting in Spanish may have been getting him stares but that’s what his hoodie was for and he was too annoyed to care.  Once they were in class, Danny went quiet and pulled out his sketch pad to lose himself in drawing whatever first came to mind. Hydra, the largest constellation in the sky, soon decorated the page until class actually started.

As the day progressed Danny shot out an argument on both sides and pulled his friends away from each other when they started yelling, determined not to deal with their bullshit more than needed.  By the end of the day he’d had to come up with several new star-based swears because regular cussing didn’t cut it anymore. “Gods, I can hardly get to lunch without a Denobola shouting contest! You two deal with this without me!”  Heading outside to eat his packed lunch in peace, Danny took solace in his last period being one without his friends. Who knew my least favorite class would be my only peaceful one?  Those two better be done with this soon.

A cow float, a stage, a ‘meat on a stick’ stand, kids in steak and hot dog costumes, a guy with a grill that couldn’t possibly be legal to just put on school property, and a sign that read “United we eat meat.”  These were the first things Danny saw when he got to school. Then he looked over at the other side of the schoolyard. A replica of the Mystery Machine, the biggest fake sunflower he’d ever seen in his life, and yet another stage were set up with people that Danny could only identify as hippies surrounding that stage with picket signs with “It’s easy being green,” and “Tofu for you” written on them.

“Literally, how?”  Danny groaned as his friends both approached him, looking furiously determined and holding megaphones.  He could feel the cold burn of his eyes flashing brilliant green once they were both in front of him. “Seriously, how did you even get this done!  I know there aren’t that many vegans here at the school who could’ve helped with this Sam, so how’d you get it done?”

Sam rolled her eyes at him, arms crossed.  “I paid some people to help us set up the stage on time, so what?”

“…How much money do your parents make that you ca-”

“So you’re a capitalist?”  Danny was not going to punch his friend for interrupting him, that’d be counter-productive right now.  Even if Tucker’s screeching in his ear nearly made that ear bleed. “You have the money and privilege to chose not to eat meat and you go and condemn the poor people who have to work their asses off to make ends meet and who literally need meat to live?”

“Enough!”  Danny put a hand over both of their mouths.  “Sam: you’re right, eating meat is bad for animals cause they die.  You’re also disregarding the struggles of the poor and forcing your choices on the rest of the school like your parents do to you and like they do to everyone else through money and political power.  And you.”  Danny whirled around and pointed his finger in Tucker’s face.  “This is going to ridiculous extremes. How did you even do this?  Don’t answer that, I don’t wanna know. This is only a week-long change, you know that.  Parents would’ve complained to the school about their kids being forced into someone else’s diets and the school would never do this again.  More importantly!”

Shiver, mist.  The sky darkened, the wind whipped up, and Danny swore he could hear cackling from everywhere.  He looked over at the truck that Tucker had brought in and grabbed his best friend’s shoulder. “I’m going to punch you later for bringing a stars damned meat truck when we’re fighting a ghost who’s obsessed with meat.”

“That was my b,” Tucker admitted meekly.  As the meat ripped out of the truck and flew through the air, Tucker and Sam slipped their wrist rays on and Danny ran to and slid under Tucker’s stage.  The sound of something huge hitting the ground shook it, and Danny reached inside of himself. That humming ball of cold and void and out of reach stars, he plunged into it, and light washed over his body.  The world changed, colors turning vivid and bright, strange colors he had no names for other than non-visible light raced into his eyes. The shadows were no longer black but silvery grey, the vast emptiness between molten starmetal and the blazing suns.  Sounds and smells and sensations hit him that were all too alien to process. He reeled, nearly dropping the form. But he had something to do, he had a job to do.

Danny phased into the ground and popped up in front of the meat monster.  It towered over him, so large Danny could barely see anything else. A check of his wrist showed that his ray was now pretty much melded into his hazmat.  “Weird, question later, ass kick now.” 

Tucker was shouting at the rest of the students, his wristray aimed at Agatha but attention on the crowd.  “MOVE, GET OUT OF HERE!” Sam grabbed onto Tucker to try and pull him out of the way of an oncoming meat fist but one of the vegans sprinting away knocked her into him and they both went flying onto the grass.  A snarl on his lips, Danny charged forward. He lashed out with his foot to the… head, he supposed, of the meat, and it staggered backward away from the student body. She swung at him with a hand that moved faster than he’d anticipated, and Danny went flying. The world faded into unreality and he passed through what he vaguely knew were trees and the ground before stopping and righting himself. He flew under the ground, legs merging into a tail - also to freak out over later - and he zoomed. He emerged right under her and missed his uppercut as she stumbled backward from the rays that Sam and Tucker fired.  Another fist grabbed him and Danny was slammed into the ground.

After a failed kick to the hand, Danny concentrated on his wrist ray and lined up the trigger that was sitting comfortably under his glove.  Pull and - Agatha screamed from within her monster host, and Danny flew free. His ray was clearly bigger than the others, but he also felt drained.  “Reserve for bigger fights.”

Danny weaved around her next few blows, kicking and punching the construct of processed meat backward away from the fleeing students and his friends.  Flying in circles to orbit the monster, Danny picked up speed and slammed his foot into the head of the meat pile and it toppled to the ground.

Danny took a moment to breathe, glad to find he could if he didn’t think too hard about it.  A fist came into view and Danny went soaring up and up and up. He saw a plane fast approaching and moved into that safe spot between the world and everything else.  He passed through the plane like it was a thin cloud of smoke before managing to stop. Then he dove, turning solid again when Agatha was in sight from within her meat construction.  “Not a lot of mass but anything with this kind of velocity should do the job.”

BOOM

In the center of the crater, at least as deep as Danny was tall and twice as wide, a splatter of green pulled itself back together into a black and white-suited Danny Phantom, blue skin bruised a sickly purple-black where his cheek had impacted the ground.  Picking himself up, the teen rolled his shoulder until it ached a bit less and saw Agatha there, staring at him. “Oh dearie, are you ok?”

“Surprisingly.”  Danny rolled his neck. When he focused in on Agatha - he really could just see everything couldn’t he? - her face was warped and stretched larger than the rest of her.

“Tough!  You being ok isn’t part of my balanced breakfast of death!”

Smaller chunks of meat came together into constructs about three-quarters of Danny’s size, five of them in total, and they grinned at him.  This was when Sam and Tucker caught up with everything, apparently. Danny spun, heel tearing through the creatures like a knife, and landed to see Agatha being pushed back by Sam and Tuck’s wrist rays.  “Fuck yeah!”

Danny’s celebration was cut short by his grasp on that deathly cold void slipping in the excitement, light washing over him with the warmth of being alive again.  “This is inconvenient.” The meat monsters grabbed onto Danny’s limbs, reminding him that they were mere extensions of Agatha’s will. “This is even less convenient, how about no?”

As Danny was dragged through the air, something smacked him in the face.  Catching it before it could fall out of reach, Danny felt a minor bloom of relief.  “The Thermos! Maybe I can get it to work!” Seeing his family below, Danny hoped to all the stars in the sky that he was just going for a ride.

The ride stopped.  Danny was dropped. A scream flew from his lungs, and Danny reached deeper, desperately grasping, to pull himself into the chill of the grave.  The abyss met his call at the same time that his family looked up at the blur fast approaching. “Thanks for the thermos!” He shouted as he dove into the ground.  Not waiting to see how that was handled he resurfaced to find Sam and Tucker bound in mounds of meat. “Work. Please work.” Danny aimed the thermos, poured his own cold  heat shadows into the thing, and hit the button.  A flash of blue light, a scream of defiance, and he capped the thermos. Gravity and heat washed over him again and Danny let out a sigh of relief, running over to pull Sam and Tucker out of the meat piles. “You guys ok?”

“I have meat and blood everywhere and I was nearly crushed to death.”  Sam shuddered, even as Danny phased everything off of her.  “I am the very definition of not ok.”

“My nightmares are scarred for life after that. That was freaky. What do we do with her?”  Tucker’s voice sounded more robotic than Danny liked, he’d have to do something to help him back to normal.

Before Danny could answer that he heard footsteps and turned the thermos invisible.  As he thought, his parents thundered toward him with the Ghost Finder in hand. “Just missed em, guys.”  Danny pointed behind him and was relieved when his mom and dad jogged off after a nonexistent ectosignature.  “Well, that was a shitty start to the day. We should go inside before someone makes something out of the crater here.”  Danny, Tucker, and Sam all headed off to the nearest entrance to the school, thoughts going south. “What if the security cameras caught all that?”

“Oh, no, that you don’t have to worry about,” Tucker said.  “I’m all over that in like, a couple of hours tops.”

“Good.”  Danny waited until they’d gotten to their lockers, and stuffed the thermos into his bag before punching Tucker in the arm.  “That is for bringing a stars damned meat truck when there was a food-obsessed ghost flying around!”

“Alright, yeah, that was stupid of me.”  Tucker nodded. “I shouldn’t have done that.  But uh, we all agreed not to do stuff that affects literally everyone without consulting each other?”  Tucker and Danny both looked to Sam, who glared at them heatlessly.

The goth sighed and leaned heavily on Danny.  “Alright, fine, ask people what they want first.  Lesson learned. Can we talk about what we’re gonna do with Agatha though?”

“Well, I don’t think she’s a mindless monster or anything,” Danny started slowly as they walked toward their homeroom.   “I think we can reason with her. Show her that change can be a good thing when it’s done right.”

“Alright, we can do that once we’re sure she’s not gonna try and kill us though, right?  Tucker tried to go for a neutral, slightly teasing tone but Danny could hear - could feel a shakiness to him.  “We are meat if you didn’t notice Danny, and I don’t know if her control over food extends to a cannibal’s diet.  I don’t wanna find out.”

“I’m horrified and grossed out,” Sam groaned.  “I’m all for not getting cannibalized. That’s the wrong kind of macabre for me.”

Danny shook his head, made some crack about how bad either of them might taste, and promised to let Agatha cool down before releasing her.  “Now, Sam, about how you’re using your money to muscle people around.” Danny groaned as loudly as he could and Tucker waved him off anyway.  “No no, she’s an activist and all that shit, she knows how capitalism effects the working class and the attitude that people can just get by without animal products..”  Danny pushed both of hs friends forward while this conversation happened. It was going to be a long day.

That cooldown time happened to be the amount of time it took for the veggie week thing to run its course and be done with.  The school was cleaned, though all the vegan students who’d showed up for the rally were questioned about any kind of explosives they may have tried to sabotage the meat truck with and the news settled in on a gas line story.  Saturday arrived, and the trio all met up in the park. Away from all the dog walkers, readers and normal people having fun outside, Danny Tucker and Sam stood in a small clearing of trees, a few chipmunks shifting around above their heads and in the bushes.

“Tuck, you got the reports?”

“Roger.  Sam, got your wrist ray ready?”

“Of course.  Danny, remind me to tell your parents they’re awesome for making most of their stuff solar powered.”

“They hadn’t figured out how to tap the afterlife for energy yet, it’s the most efficient thing we got.”  Danny shrugged. He pulled out the thermos, which hummed beneath his fingers with the contained energy of Agatha inside.  Sam and Tucker couldn't feel it, so he chalked that up to another ghost thing. “Alright, Agatha, if you’re ready to talk to us, I’m gonna let you out now.”  The thermos offered no response. Danny opened it anyway.

The bark on the trees darkened, the leaves turning grey and the branches and bushes rustling as birds and squirrels left in a hurry.  The air turned colder and sharper, and the sunlight dimmed as green spilled out of the thermos and stained the air. Agatha took shape quickly, though her glow was dimmer than it had been before.  Her eyes raked across all three of them and narrowed. “Well, children? You kept rambling on and on about talking whenever I tried to get out. What’s so important that you didn’t put me back in the Ethereal Plane?”

Tucking the name of the other side in the back of his mind, Danny offered his best-placating smile.  It disarmed most teachers back when he wasn’t having as many problems, he was hoping it’d work here too.  “Agatha, hi. I’m Danny, this is Tucker and Sam. I feel like we got off on the worst foot before, what with you trying to kill us and all.”  Tucker elbowed him in the ribs and Danny shoved him back. The buzzing in the air grew louder, his skin tingled, and some small part of his brain kept screaming to shoot, to run, to do anything that could get this thing that did not belong away from him.  “So, I understand why you were angry.”

“You, Sam, changed the menu to just one food group!”  Agatha’s voice was rising to those terrible echoes in the mind, and the tiny voice got louder.  Still it was ignored.

“I understand now that it was probably a bad idea.  No one’s been going to the line in the cafeteria all week except fellow vegans,” Sam grumbled.  “Still though, some change needed to happen. The cafeteria wasn’t giving us any healthy foods!” Sam was a good actress when it came to her voice. She sounded unafraid, ready to argue for hours.  Danny could feel something off though.

“And healthy diets aren’t exactly easy to come by if you don’t put a lot of effort into it nowadays.”  Tucker held out a sheaf of papers. “This, Miss Reece, is a report on the various health crises around the country because of the food they’re feeding us.”  The papers were taken and Tucker let out as subtle a breath as possible. “I don’t agree with changing the menu to just one food group, no one in their right mind would.  But I think we should still change things up. Is there any way you can help us do that?”

There was a long beat of quiet, where all that Danny could hear was the sizzle of patties on a grill, the crunch of lettuce being pulled apart, the chopping of a knife on a cutting board the came with Agatha’s presence.  It was in the background of everything unless he focused. It was still there though, and it was so distracting with everything else happening. Agatha read, frown deepening as she did before she handed the reports on obesity and diabetes increasing in children of their ages and lower back to Tucker.  “Alright,” she started, then stopped. A superfluous breath. She looked to Danny. “Well, I suppose that I was a tad extreme about everything. How about this?” She held out her hand, and above her glove, the green light that seemed to shine in all directions from her coalesced into the form of a burger.   “I’m not sure they’ll accept me in the school kitchens again but I’m certainly able to make a meal for everyone.”

“That’s amazing!”  Tucker crowed. “I’ve already sent a few texts and set up some online polls to find out what most people actually want out of their lunch, maybe you can help us with finding ingredients around Amity?  Do you have a food sense?”

“Even if they don’t let you into the school’s kitchen you could still probably find a soup kitchen that’d definitely let you in,” Sam offered.  “If you can create food from basically nothing, then I see no reason for them to turn you away.”

“Plus, since ectoplasm draws energy from heat and electricity, you can probably just relax in the sun and be able to pull out a full course meal.”  Danny took in his friends’ curious looks and scratched the back of his neck. “My parents are the world’s best ghost scientists. I just asked them.”

“I’ll certainly look into that soup kitchen idea dearies,” Agatha said with a bright smile on her face.  “For now though, I should be getting back to the Astral Plane. Sunlight is a nice substitute but after all that fighting I need a quick break.”

“I can get you back there without my parents noticing,” Danny offered.

“I only need to be invisible for that, dear,”  Agatha assured them and faded out of sight. The chill and fading of the clearing dissipated, and Tucker and Sam relaxed visibly.

“Well,” Danny said as he pulled his notebook out of his bag.  “That’s one ghost down.” He hoped it wouldn’t be too many till he convinced his parents.

Ao3