#back to that horrid lab report

[winterarmyy]

Never Lie To Me

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Y/N's sinful thoughts towards the Asset is reciprocated.

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x hydra agent!female!reader

Words: 3.4k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, purely smut and lack of plot, honestly. messy writing and lack of dialogue, sorry for that. Others may include probably incorrect russian due to the use of google translate, marking kink (if you squint), metal hand kink, finger-fucking, clit spanking, unprotected sex, creampie, soldat doesn't talk much, i figured he is more reserved but that doesn't mean his actions are (*wink wink*) he is kinda rough but the reader highkey loves it, just bunch of horny pent-up mfs getting some action for once, y'know.

Inspiration: "Cause I can see you waiting down the hall for me and I can see you up against the wall with me." – I Can See You (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N didn't understand why was she sent to this field mission. There were literally dozens of others that were much suitable to do it and yet they chose her of all people? Considering her much leisure job for the past months, which basically just to guard a lab, Hydra seemed to forgot that her body have been lack of combat practice.

She hated this. This mission. This organization. All of it.

Y/N was one of those kids that Hydra stole from the orphanages for their Phantom program; it is where they train, or accurately brainwash, the kids into highly skilled assassin. And she was one of the top 5 out of the program in her batch.

But after a certain incident in one of the mission in Peru, she was temporarily relocated to Siberia to, as they say, "recover" before they can assign get into another mission. There, she was given a much lenient task, which was to guard the lab where the Winter Soldiers were created.

Those few months was both heaven and hell for her; heaven was that she didn't need to be soaked in the blood of the innocent lives and hell was that she had to be a bystander to the cruelty of the dehumanizing process of the Winter Soldier program.

Sure, everything Hydra does to its "followers" are, by nature, imbrute. I mean, she was trained like a dog since she was but a child, but this. This was just another level of evil. Such vile and merciless thing to do to another human being. The muzzles that Hydra shoved in their mouth doesn't really help to reduce the excruciating noises that they made.

Though, while she was physically forced to witness the atrociousness, there was one constant thing that kept her mind off from it all.

They call him the Asset. In fact he was the first one. But she'd rather think of him simply as a man sleeping in a cryo chamber.

Y/N had heard of this "monster", the rumours were terrible as they come and go, but she find it hard to believe that when the soldat had such a calm and kind expression on his face, even if his features were frozen in ice. That was her first impression of him; then day by day, and what felt like ages, she watched him.

Her curiosity got the best of her when she started to think of scenarios and possibilities that the man had quickly became her escape from the horrid reality around her.

Though she spend most of her time trying not to feel it, but the other times, well... the thoughts went a little wild. At one point, they got too personal even for her own mind to comprehend.

After a month of reporting at the new post, she heard the whispers of "thawing the asset" from other agents and scientists around the lab. And surely enough, one of those day, the soldat was brought back from his slumber.

It didn't cross her mind before, of what color laid behind those closed lids. But when she saw his eyes for the first time, she was in complete awe. They were blue as the vast ocean she once jet-skied over; but they were as cold like when she stepped foot at this snow covered facility.

The contrast of his dark hair and tanned skin only makes his bright eyes to become the most prominent feature on his face. And Y/N just couldn't tear her gaze away, especially when the Hydra agent that supposed to retrieve him was making such a big fuss over how slow the soldat was reacting to their commands.

What do they expect? He was literally frozen for lord knows how long just a few seconds ago. Everything must be dissociating for him. So of course, the man's mind and body needs time to adjust.

The soldat abruptly fell on his knees after exiting the chamber, causing one of the guards to strike a kick across his face, "вставай, паршивая собака! (Get up, you lousy dog!)"

And that was it, Y/N had enough of it, "Hey!" she shouted as her stomped towards the guards. The duo quickly stood straight and showed their respect to her; knowing that those who graduated from Phantom program has higher ranking than them.

The moment Y/N found her footing in front of him, the palm of her hand landed harshly across his face, "Do you realized what you just did?" She asked as the taller regained to his prior composure.

"That man!" She pointed at the soldat who was obediently sitting on the floor, "Is Hydra's most prized asset. He alone is worth thousands of you useless scumbags. And you had the audacity to lay your hands on him?!" She roared and the lab fell into silent.

The two guards can only bite on their own tongue knowing what she said was true. The soldat was in fact the Hydra's precious weapon, as for now that he was the only one who successfully weilded the super soldier serum in his veins.

Y/N walked around and stood in front of the soldat, "Are you hurt, soldat?" she asked as her gaze fell on him. His head was hanging low as he bored his empty eyes into the shine of Y/N's black boots; he shook his head and replied, "No, ma'am"

She knew he was lying, especially when she saw the drips of blood on his pants, "Look at me." She ordered in which the soldat complied. And there it was, the source of the mess, the red cut on the corner of his lips. Her frown only deepened when the bruises were slowly forming on his cheek bones.

Y/N crouched to his level, as her hand reaching for his cheeks. His body halted and stiffened when she approached, but only to be surprised by the soft carress of her fingers on his face, "If you're not injured, then what's this?" She whispered lowly; a tone where just the two of them can hear.

The soldat's empty eyes almost melt in hers; he never saw her before, who is she? Why was there so much kindness in her eyes? And why was she holding him so gently?

He let her careful thumb wiped the blood from his chin before whispered again, "Never lie to me, soldat. Do you understand?"  The soldat obediently nodded as a spiral of indescribable emotions stirred within him. His eyes lingered at the way her lips formed into a soft smile, "Good." She praised.

Since then, the soldat's gaze had remain on her almost all the time. From the moment she threatened the two guards, to the time she looked away from the tortured candidates of the Winter Soldier program, to this very second as she undresses every part of her suit.

Though the mission was a success however, their plane was utterly wrecked by an unforeseen mini gun. So they were forced to walk through the snow storm and find shelter at one of Hydra's safe house.

It was not rare for the soldat to be paired with other agents on a mission but never with a woman. Much less the pretty little bunny that he had been obsessing over. Ever since that incident, the soldat often think of her. And he really tried too keep everything professional but something within him changed lately.

One particularly distinct moment that he experienced that made it clear to him; it was when he was waiting in the hall for his handlers to drag him around the facilities, and she happen to walk towards him from the opposite side. And when he brushed pass her, he noticed how his hands was itching to grab her by the neck and push her up against the wall.

As if there was this strong urge to claim her, mark her, fuck her. That was when he realized. The soldat wanted her. He wanted ruin her for everyone else. He wanted her to be his. But, he knew they keep watchful eyes on him. On both of them. And he can't risk that.

But now that she was standing right in front of him, in her underwear no less, how was he supposed to control himself?

Y/N turned her attention towards the soldat, he stood absolutely still that she almost thought he was literally frozen, "Why are you not stripping? Even with that super soldier serum in you, I doubt that you don't feel cold from those snow-soaked clothes."

Maybe it was the dim-lit room, but she swore that the soldat eyes darkened when she walk towards him. Especially when his eyes ranked the way her wet undergarments stick onto her skin.

How many times did she fantasize about the way he was looking at her. How many times did she made herself cum from the thoughts on grinding her cunt into his metal fingers.

Too many to count.

Especially when, in her head, she could see him in his suit with his knives, she could see him throwing his black mask on the floor, she could see him bending her over to his will, she could see him make her want him, crave him, need him.

And whenever their eyes met, she often think of the what-ifs between them. Like, what would he do if she went to touch him now? What would he do if Hydra never found them out? What would he do if they never made a sound?

What would he think if she made him her own personal addiction? Then will he entertain her fantasies by making her his own secret mission?

"Remember what I told you, soldat?" She asked as her hands reached for his mask.

Without hesitation, the soldat replied, "Never lie to you." as his face was bare for her to see.

Y/N took a step forward, so close that he could almost feel her skin on him, "Now tell me, what do you want?" Her eyes found his diluted ones as he lifted his gaze from her cleavage to meet hers.

His cock was rather truthful even from the beginning; now more than before when it twitched painfully in the confinement of his pants. The soldat hissed to the feel of it before he confessed, "I want you."

Y/N couldn't help but to smile, "Then, have me, soldat."

That was all he needed to hear. Her permission to have her, to own her. Then, very next second, he had her body pinned firmly against the wall, his lips on her soft ones, his wet tongue exploring in her mouth.

The soldat had his metal hand gripping the back of her neck, not wanting that pretty head of hers to hit the wall; while the other hand unabashedly teared the bra off from her body.

Breaking the kiss, the soldat's lustful gaze watched how her breasts became bare for him. So pretty and perky. His cock twitched madly as if it was ordering him to touch them, suck on them. And he did just that.

The soldat took her right nipple into his hot mouth while his free hand pawed on the other. Y/N moaned lewdly at roughness of his hand and mouth. When she threw her head back, that was when she saw it. At the corner of the room, she noticed a CCTV camera directly situated towards their direction

She grabbed a handful of his long hair, and lightly tugged him back but he refused to stop sucking on her. Y/N huffed when she whispered, "They're watching us."

That was when the soldat quickly released her from his mouth and quickly hovered his huge body over her, he growled possessively as his quick eyes scanned for all the nearby camera.

Y/N chuckled amusingly at his reaction, "Do you not like it when they watch us?" She teased. The soldat growled again as he pulled her closer, her nipples perked even more now that they touched the cold fabric of his clothes, "Mine. Mine alone." He declared.

Y/N looked up at him with a pair of seductive eyes, "Then, what are you going to do about it?" She taunted. The soldat swiftly pulled his knives out from his thigh strap and threw it directly at the lens of each camera in the room. Now no one would have a chance witness her divine body, or see what her face looks like when he make her cum.

There weren't much of intelligible words that came out of his mouth after that, besides the grumble noises of the word "mine".

The soldat latched her mouth onto her skin, particulary around her neck, collarbone and the valley of her breast. He kissed and licked and sucked to leave his mark on her as his metal hand dug into her hips.

Meanwhile, the flesh of his right hand slide right into her panties. He fingers trailed the outer slit of her cunt; as if he was purposely teasing her, "Зайка (bunny)" he groaned against her neck when he felt how wet she was. She squirmed needily under his hand, when his middle finger poked her entrance while his thumb grazed across her clit.

"So wet, all for me?" He purred as his finger slowly dug into her hole. Y/N whined and grabbed his wrist before he could go any further, "Want your metal fingers, soldat." she slurred deliriously; already drunk with his touches.

It took all his might to not fuck her right there and then when she let him have her. The soldat wanted to treat her gently, prepare her sweetly. Now that she had confessed such sinful desire, something in him just snapped.

He pulled his hand out, and effortlessly ripped her panties from her body before lifting one of her legs up, pushing her thighs towards her body. She yelped at the sudden roughness, embarrassment crept across her spine when the soldat licked his lips at the sight of her cunt, wide open for him.

"Want my metal fingers huh,  Зайка (bunny)?" He trailed his metal fingers along her wet hole, "You got it." He abruptly shoved two of his digits into her, causing her to let out a loud gasp at the sudden intrusion.

The soldat didn't give her time to adjust, he simply pulled his fingers out to the very tip and thrust it back into her. And he does it again, and again and again. Until the pain turn into sheer pleasure.

When her eyes rolled back and shut close, the soldat growled disapprovingly, "No. Don't close your eyes. Look. Look down. Watch how your wet little hole take my metal fingers. That's it. Look at you. Fuck. Look. At. You." His pace didn't lose its rhythm when he fucked his fingers hard and fast; he curled them just right every time he hit that deep spot inside her.

His metal fingers was better that she had ever imagine, and the sight that she was looking at was so lewd that she was already so overstimulated from it, then when his thumb circled her clit, she thought she was seeing actual stars.

Streams of fluid was squelching everytime he shoved his fingers knuckles deep into her, that it trickled down his hand. It was so messy and the soldat loves it. He want her to be this messy all the time. He wanted to clean her up with his tongue. Lick every drip of her sweet fluid, swollow it like he was thristy and she was water.

At the this point, he would be willing to stay on his knees if it means that he get to have her cunt on his mouth always.

The soldat growled at the way she moaned so shamelessly at how harsh his fingers was violating her sweet pussy. He kept on rubbing on her clit and watched her body shuddered when he slap on it. Seeing her reaction, he continued to spank her clit and he fucked her harder; one, two, three, four, until she cried out a long moan and her pussy gushed with her creamy cum.

And seeing how her body trembled, her cream dripping out onto his hand, the soldat almost combust in his pants. Though apart of him wanted to feel her sweaty skin on his own, another just wanted to feel her warm pussy.

So, instead of wasting more of his time undressing himself, the soldat hurriedly unzipped his pants to release his aching cock out. He pulled his finger out and licked her cum clean while his other hand lazily pumped his leaking length, "Taste so good, Зайка (bunny). Bet you feel good too."

Y/N whined at his action, he looked so hot and bothered. And something about him fully clothed while pumping his needy cock for her; it just drives her to near feral. She let out an exasperated gasp when the soldat maneuvered her legs to cling around his waist, while his hand gripped on her hips. Her voice then stuck on her throat when he thrust his cock deep inside in one stroke.

His size was stretching her out so much that it burned, a good type of burn; in fact, the best type. The soldat on the other hand almost burst his cum the moment he entered her. She felt so good. Better that his rough hands when he jerked off to the though of her. But he was determined to make her cum on his dick before he get his own high.

So without letting her adjust to his size, he slowly pulled out and harshly slammed right back into her; fuck does it feel so good. And her mewling so needily for him does not help the situation at all. He repeated the same thing over and over until he managed to suck up his need to cum, then fasten his pace. And the sound of her wetness rubbing against his cock when he pounded into her was so damned and sinful, that never wanted to forget.

Her back repeatedly hit the wall from the force of his thrust that she needed to hold on his shoulders for support. His pace was fast and deep, almost erratic. Her moans broken when she felt the tip of her cock ramming at her womb, her walls clenching in delight to welcome such huge and hot length inside her. Every stroke was perfect and if she had no self-control she would be cumming each time the soldat forced his cock into her.

His hips slapped against her and she eagerly followed his every thrust, desperate to meet his skin as much as he was for her. And when she looked up to him, the soldat was looking directly into her. His ocean blues dove into her soul as his grunts tangled with her cries.

His breathing stuttered and his pace flatter. She could tell he was getting close. But, the soldat refused to; not until she cum first.

In and out. In and out. His pace became brutally delicious. Her nerves were stretching so good that her toes curled and that was when she felt the coil forming. Short needy pants left her lips, each one was a sign that she was getting closer to ecstacy, "I'm cumming, soldat. Please,, don't stop."

The soldat groaned, "Don't hold back." He pounded into her impossibly harder; and the delicious drag of his cock continued to punish her into pure ecstasy, forcing her cum to leak out and lather around his throbbing length, "That’s it, Cum for me, Зайка (bunny). Cum for your soldat,, ahh fuck so tight, i'm cumming too, ahh." The soldat chased his own release as continued to thrust inside her clenching hole.

"Fuckkkk i'm cumming inside you, Зайка (bunny). Will mark you mine with my cum. Ahhh ahhh fuckk", the soldat moaned to the addictive feel of her cunt milking him, and soon after when it hits him, his cock throbbed wildly as his cream leaked from the tip, endlessly filling her womb full with his warm cum.

Y/N whined to the amount of warm fluid spreading inside her. And when she thought his slowed thrust was a sign of an end, she couldn't be wrong. The soldat slowly pulled his cock out to the very tip, just pound it back into her. He groaned at the sight of his creamy cum spilling out, circling where his cock was stuffing her. Then he does it again, and again.

Until she started to moan for him, "hmmm,, s-soldat?" She hoped that he would explain himself.

His dark eyes only glint with lust and greed when a small smiled curved on his lips, "Oh, Зайка (bunny), I'm not done with you until I mark every part of you as mine."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: This scene has been played out in my head the whole day when Speak Now (TV) came out. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this short read! Drop some thought behind for me would you?

[rottenpumpkin13]

Just thinking about some Kunsel Whump. Like, of the soldiers he is the most generic and easily overlooked. I feel like he is the cog that holds most of the department together. It’s like a stage technician. If the job is done right, nobody will notice you, but do it wrong? They are the first person to get the complaints.

Anyway, Kunsel goes missing for a day. Be it captured by the enemy or the Turks, or just called in sick but nobody knows that because he is usually the person who knows who in the roster is away or sick or where they are stationed without looking anything up.

Chaos.

Picture him getting captured by an enemy faction while out on a solo mission, but no one notices at first because he's usually the guy in charge of logging the mission details and updating the status reports at the end of the day.

The only reason the 49th floor isn't more chaotic the next day is because Lazard hasn't yet given up on his men—not even when Zack accidentally triggers the emergency lockdown system while trying to alert the department about the infestation, sealing several escape routes and trapping some of their own troops in the middle of an infestation of monsters that escaped from the labs.

Everyone's struggling to deal with the monsters as the lack of efficient communication makes it impossible to coordinate attacks or know the precise locations of each operative (Kunsel was also responsible for maintaining the communication system).

Genesis: Where's Kunsel?? I can't get through to anyone on the lower levels!

Angeal, fighting off a monster: He wasn't at the usual briefing this morning. Sephiroth, have you seen him?

Sephiroth, looking at a dead monster while going through the motions of self reflection: I haven't, which now leads me to believe that he's missing.

Zack, also fighting off a monster: This is bad! This means he never got back from his assignment yesterday! What if he's hurt? Or in danger!? OR DEAD? Man, I'm the worst friend ever!

Genesis: I never realized how much we rely on him until now. I feel simply horrid that we—Sephiroth please don't mourn the dead specimen.

Angeal: I know what you mean. He must hate us now. We have to get him back now. Before it's too late!

Cut to enemy territory, where Kunsel sits at a table, a steaming cup of tea in hand, surrounded by the members hanging on every single word he says, while looking over a map of Midgar.

Kunsel: Yeah, your plan of attack makes no sense. You need to deploy a diversion in sector 7 to drive Shinra's forces away from sector 0, and then use the undercity to move in.

*The enemy group is in awe*

Enemy commander: Impressive! We could use someone of your expertise to lead us from now on. We'll be devoted to you and you alone.

Kunsel: Tempting, but I have to decline.

Enemy commander: Ah, I see. You're loyal to Shinra and SOLDIER alone.

Kunsel: Not really. It's just that the health benefits are great, I have game night with the boys every Friday, and me and Zack got movie tickets for next Saturday.

*Kunsel sips his tea*

Kunsel: Plus Tuesdays are taco days at the mess hall.

[schrijverr]

Mustang's Pain in the Ass

Team Mustang is surprised when Ed comes into the office in perfect uniform, playing the perfect soldier. Though it becomes clear there is something more at hand when a general follows. The whole thing reveals how much Ed secretly cares about the military unit he’s a part of.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~

Edward hates the Amestrian military uniform and he makes no secret out of it. He thinks the whole military is shit and while he is smart enough to keep that opinion a little closer to his chest, his distaste for the blue fatigues the soldiers wear is well known.

It’s one of the first battles he had with Mustang when he just joined the military ranks. Mustang had insisted he’d wear it and Ed had insisted he doesn’t.

The argument had lasted for a full week.

Mustang wanted Ed to wear it to reflect back on the military and therefore Mustang. It was one of the reasons he took Ed in and he wanted it to pay off. Having Ed doing great things in a military uniform, meant the military was doing great things.

Ed, on the other hand, knew what those uniforms inspired in certain circles. Hell, most of the people he knows from his childhood hate the military and wouldn’t hesitate to snub someone, because they were wearing Amestrian blue. If he wanted to talk to people, he couldn’t be seen in that horrid uniform.

In the end, Mustang had threatened to court martial him for insubordination if he didn’t listen to him and Ed had threatened to quit, but not before exposing that Mustang helped cover up their human transmutation.

Both of them had known it was an empty threat, since Ed would never risk Al becoming a lab rat over something as stupid as a uniform. However, the fact that he had actually threatened it, made Mustang realize how serious Ed was about it, so he dropped it. For the time being at least.

Over the course of the first year of Ed’s military career, Mustang had brought it up a few more times, but Ed remained steadfast.

By the time that first year was over, the red coat and braid had become such a staple of The People’s Alchemist, that taking it away and forcing Ed into a military uniform became counterproductive to Mustang’s goal of having Ed’s work recognized and making him look good.

So, the argument had faded over time, though no one really forgot how explosive it had been. The first time the team was properly exposed to the fire in Ed.

Which is why it’s such a shock to all of them when Ed comes in that day to report while sporting his uniform, correctly done up and everything.

It isn’t the first odd thing about his arrival, no that would be him not kicking open the door, but respectfully opening it without Al in tow. He saluted back to their instinctive salutes as he announced: “Major Elric, here to report to colonel Mustang.”

“Chief?” Havoc asks, obviously showing his confusion as he dropped the salute alongside Ed.

Ed doesn’t acknowledge him and just turns to Hawkeye, who quickly slaps on her usual mask of professionalism as she says: “The colonel is in, sir.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Ed nods, before going over to the door to Mustang’s office, ignoring the way he’s being ogled like a failed science experiment as he knocks.

“Come in,” Mustang calls out and Ed opens the door.

Again he salutes, ignoring how Mustang’s eyes threaten to fall out of his skull, as he announces himself once more: “Major Elric, reporting, sir.”

“Fullmetal?” Mustang asks, like he needs to check if what he’s seeing is correct.

“Yes, sir,” Ed replies, not dropping his salute, because Mustang hasn’t saluted yet.

“Are you playing a prank on me? Did someone set you up for this? What’s going on, short-stack?” Mustang practically interrogates him, not that Ed can blame the man.

Though, a vein pops out on his forehead when Mustang calls him short-stack, he doesn’t burst out into anger like he normally would. He needs Mustang to treat this like it is normal. All he does instead is say: “I’m reporting in after my mission, sir. As you ordered, remember, sir?”

The purposeful stress in his tone must have finally tipped Mustang off, thank fuck, because a neutral expression comes over his face as he relaxes back into his chair, a tension still clear to those that know him, but not to outsiders. “Of course. At ease, major. I didn’t expect you back so soon. Anything particular to report?”

“No, sir,” Ed lies, knowing the colonel has already gotten property damage reports that speak to the contrary. He drops the salute for a more normal stance and goes on: “There was nothing of interest in the town. Only a few local thugs that were disposed off. I’ve written everything in my report, sir.”

Mustang is about to ask for the report when the door opens again. Doors don’t usually open without a knock unless Ed is kicking one in or someone of a higher rank, who relishes in the authority, comes barging in.

This time it is the latter and the door opens to reveal general Baringer. A general who Mustang remembers well from when he was still working in Central. The man has always had it out for him, not liking how quickly he climbed the ranks, always seeing if he can find something to prevent his next promotion. Mustang doesn’t know what he’s doing here, but he instantly hates it.

Ed snaps to attention first, since Mustang is distracted by the hit of displeasure. However, he quickly follows, greeting: “General Baringer, sir. What can I help you with, sir?”

General Baringer looks torn between being delighted by the respect and resentful that there is nothing nefarious happening in Mustangs office.

“At ease,” he tells them after a moment, having drawn out the moment of respect to his own satisfaction. “I just heard the Fullmetal Alchemist was reporting and I was hoping to hear what the Hero of the People has been up to.”

The way he says it sounds too pleasant and it sets Mustangs teeth on edge. However, he’s been playing this game longer than that, so there is nothing on his face that could give away his displeasure at the turn of events.

“Of course, sir. You’re in luck, major Elric just got here to give his report,” Mustang tells him with a smile, gesturing towards where Ed is standing in perfect parade pose.

Baringer turns back to see Ed. For a split second, it seems like he’s surprised at who he sees, as if he recognizes Ed, then he shakes his head to himself, a gesture he quickly hides behind another one of his smiles.

“Ah, so this is the famous Fullmetal Alchemist,” Baringer exclaims, putting so much fake cheer in his voice that Mustang has to fight the urge to cringe. That urge grows when Baringer adds: “I thought you would be taller, not so shrimp-y.”

In that moment, Mustang is sure that whatever Ed is playing at here will come crashing down. He is just bracing himself for the explosion that is sure to come. But it doesn’t. Ed stays quiet.

Nothing has scared Mustang more.

Sure, earlier he ignored Mustang’s short-stack, but that’s basically kid’s play coming from the colonel. He has said worse and Ed has let worse slide. Not very happily, but when the moment calls for it, he has. Not from someone else though. Whatever Ed is playing at, it’s clear he thinks it important.

So, yeah, Mustang is on guard as he watches Ed robotically reply: “Sorry for the disappointment, sir.”

That causes Baringer to let out a loud laugh as he slaps Ed on the back, nearly sending the small boy flying to the ground. Mentally, Ed wants to murder Baringer, but he doesn’t let it show on his face, just grits his teeth and takes it as Baringer bellows: “No need for that, Edward,” claiming a false friendliness.

“Do you have your written report ready, Fullmetal,” Mustang interrupts the display. He is now aware Ed is trying to keep something under wraps, but there is only so much the kid can take before he blows a fuse. Best to be a distraction.

Written reports aren’t mandatory, though preferred when first reporting back after a mission. Ed’s are usually a mess, so Mustang hopes that if the kid is playing at something, he’ll lie and say no.

This of course means that Ed has to surprise him and answer: “Yes, sir,” while producing a neat sheet of paper.

As stated before, Ed’s reports are always a mess, so it’s doubly shocking when Mustang accepts the neat paper. His eyes flick down again, just to confirm what he’s seeing. And indeed, there are no weird stains, no crumpled edges, no smudges, but – more importantly – not Ed’s handwriting. The kid’s script is chicken scratch, born from either having to use his left hand or the less dexterous automail one.

If any other thing about this wasn’t already suspicious, this would have been it. Some part of him knows that Ed must have planned some of this, since he showed up in a uniform, but Mustang knows he’s skilled enough to whip that up on the fly, but this report… He asked someone else to write it and brought it here. On time too. Early even.

He doesn’t let any of those thoughts show on his face though, instead quickly scanning through the neat text as if this is common.

Protocol commands him to ask for a verbal report now, but there is a general there and an obvious agenda going on. So, instead he asks: “Do you just want to read the report, sir. Or did you want to listen to the verbal report too, sir?”

“Paperwork is always so boring,” Baringer says jovially. “I’d much prefer to hear Edward here tell of his exploits.”

Ed is doing a creepy impersonation of a perfect soldier, still standing and waiting for further orders, ignoring how Baringer – who didn’t even know what he looked like before entering this office – is pretending that they’re friendly.

Still, if Ed is playing along, so is Mustang. So, he simply orders: “Report, major.”

“Yes, sir,” Ed replies in perfect order. Then he quickly and efficiently briefs both of them a completely made up version of what has happened. Mustang has the damage report somewhere in the stacks on his desk and both the property damage and Al are glaringly absent from Ed’s tale.

But what general Baringer doesn’t know won’t hurt him and, therefore, no words are dirtied with the work of revealing anything unnecessary.

When Ed is done, Baringer speaks up before Mustang can, praising Ed on his work. He jokes: “I could use more staff like you, Mustang is one lucky man.”

However, the joking tone can’t hide how much the man means it and Mustang starts to put together why the man is here. It would seem unnecessarily petty for the man to travel here all the way from Central on the off chance that he catches Mustang slacking.

But Ed’s insubordination is practically legendary at eastern command. If he were to snag Mustang’s greatest subordinate career-boosting-wise coming in late, without uniform and with a sloppy report, then he doesn’t just push Mustang down a peg, he also creates an opening for boosting his own esteem and influence by usurping Ed into his own unit.

It’s a plan with a small chance of success, since Ed isn’t likely to leave Mustang’s protection with all that he knows about both him, his brother and their past.

Yet, if he had come in on any other day with Ed spitting profanities at him, behaving in his usual brash manner with high disregard for any protocol the military tried to uphold… Well, then Baringer would have had a leg to stand on when calling Mustang unfit to have Ed as a subordinate and his plan might have become reality.

It dawns on Mustang that Ed somehow must have known this sneak attack was coming. He must have known where Mustang’s spy network hadn’t. And he had acted accordingly.

Mustang is a little impressed with the kid. Not just how he stepped in, but how much of an actor he can be, because he’s sure it’s killing him when he replies: “I am the lucky one, sir. Colonel Mustang has been a great support in my career and I am happy with his oversight, sir.”

There is a tightness around Baringer’s mouth at the reply. A clear disappointment about how today has gone. He’s never been great at hiding that. And the man probably knows it, because he makes a hasty exit after realizing this is a bust.

“That is good to hear, my boy,” Baringer lies through his teeth. “Now, I have an appointment to make, but I do hope to see you around, Edward. I would love to hear more of your exploits.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ed replies politely.

The two of them watch as Baringer leaves the office, a quiet falling over them until both are sure he’s out of hearing range. Then Ed sags as he exclaims: “Thank fucking Truth that slimy motherfucker is gone.”

“Been holding that in, shorty?” Mustang teases, feeling soothed to have Ed explode at him again instead of the polite puppet he had been earlier.

After Ed has calmed down, Mustang leans on his desk, before observing: “You clean up better than I expected. With all the fuss, I assumed you must have looked very stupid in the uniform for you to not want to wear it.”

“I do look stupid in this monkey suit,” Ed scowls. “Everyone looks stupid in it. It’s a stupid fucking uniform.”

Mustang honestly doesn’t feel like rehashing that fight, so he swiftly changes the subject. “How did you know general Baringer was coming?”

“The guy’s a fucking moron,” Ed shrugs. “If I had evil plans to overthrow someone in the government or sabotage them, I wouldn’t be stupid enough openly talk about them in the train. I mean, those compartments aren’t sound proof, no matter how much your fancy ass paid to be in first class.”

How Ed would hear that, Mustang isn’t sure. He knows the brat never pays enough to travel first class, but then again, Ed is prone to walking into conspiracies. So, Mustang wouldn’t put it past him to just stumble upon it.

So, Mustang doesn’t ask more questions about the how of it all. He just accepts it as truth and moves on. “So, you decided to take it upon yourself to be a good little soldier for a change. If I had known you were capable of such subordination, I would have demanded it a long time ago, Fullmetal.”

“I’m not capable of anything,” Ed scowls deeper. “Don’t expect anything other than the usual from me next time, bastard. You’re never seeing me in this bullshit again.”

“Ahww, after all you went through for me, you scorn me like this? I was just starting to feel special,” Mustang pouts as he teases Ed.

He expects Ed to get angry again, to play their usual script of barbs and insults. But today Ed is full of surprises, because he doesn’t meet Mustang’s eyes as he shrugs: “Well, I mean, I may be a pain in the ass, but I’m your pain in the ass. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

It’s a rare moment of vulnerability and Mustang knows it’s a sign of trust. This whole thing was.

Ed doesn’t like to show how much he cares, especially not about anyone in the military. Mustang knows how much Ed resents being here and how much he doesn’t want to help the military in any way. This is a big show for him. Mustang won’t mess with it.

However, he’s aware of how short Ed’s fuse is, especially around things involving his own emotions. So, he simply says: “Thank you, Ed, I appreciate it.” Before swiftly giving him an out of the conversation by asking: “So, who wrote the report?”

“Oh, a nice lady on the train me and Al befriended,” Ed shrugs easily, like befriending random people is something everyone does and not just Ed. “She wants to become a writer. I think she enjoyed the mental exercise.”

“So, how much of this is true?” Mustang asks, fondness in his exasperation.

“Not a word,” Ed grins, producing a crumpled mess of a report from his coat. It usually bothers him when Ed hands in sloppy reports, because it’s then his problem to do something about it. But now he’s almost relieved to take it.

As he tries to decipher Ed’s chicken scratch, the teen sprawls over his couch, looking very much like himself despite the uniform. The others have obviously been listening in, because they float by to congratulate Ed on his performance while Ed smirks.

Edward might hate the Amestrian military uniform and the military at large, but he is smart enough to keep those opinions to a little closer to his chest when necessary.

~~

A/N:

I believe that Ed is fully capable of being a good little soldier, he just refuses on principle lmao

[midori-laboratories]

Flowers and Ash, Chapter 11

Book 1, Calendula Chronicles series.

Story synopsis: When the eldest daughter of Edward Ashford accompanies her father and brother on a last-minute trip in 1968 to secure their legacy, an act of spite turns into a boon for the family. When tragedy and scandal strike, the survivors will have to be clever if they are to live long enough to pick up the pieces of their lives. Pre-slash/Gen.

Chapter synopsis: A trap is sprung.

CW for implied death of family member, isolation, dissociation, and violence

Everett’s nerves had seen better days.

She’d made her call to the head office from the reception phone - no one really manned the desk, and anyone trying to call in knew which extensions to use. This was really one of the few blind spots in the facility’s state-of-the-art surveillance system - the rest was for the labs, and for the grounds themselves. The lobby and the upstairs area were living quarters. This was a stressful enough place to work without overseeing every moment of their lives outside of the lab, and anyone approaching the facility would be documented well enough.

This place creeped her out. She’d only played valet a few times, and every time, it made her skin crawl. She couldn’t place the reason, exactly. Every time she went in, there was a terrible sense of dread that she wouldn’t be allowed to leave again.

For the hundredth time, she wondered if asking for a transfer would do her any good. Something in the pit of her stomach warned against pulling any attention from the higher-ups.

Blame horror movies. Blame ghost stories. Blame a million culturally-ingrained little reasons, but every instinct she had screamed at her to leave.

Ms. Ashford had not been what she had expected. Her niece, from all reports, was as tightly-wound as they came (for a ten-year-old genius), but the aunt had swept in three years prior, zeroed in on the dictator terrorizing the training facility, and just....fixed it. No disappearances, or horrid rumours, just, *fixed the problem* like a normal VP. The new lab out here was creepy, yes, but it *worked.* The scientists were all healthy and happy. The improvements showed on every level.

She’d been a little shaken the morning after that meeting, when the group of them had painted the town red the previous night in celebration. In particular, when she’d awoken in the other woman’s bed. Not that her tastes never ran in that direction, but, she was a Midwestern girl at heart. Exploring that side of herself was risky for a woman of any ambition in her line of work. Marigold had simply sat up, and arched in a lazy stretch. She’d smiled brightly, and glanced out the window. “What a lovely week this is turning out to be.”

It had never really occurred to her to find dissonance between Ashford’s seniority in the company, and how youthful she had looked in that moment, stripped of the trappings of a glamorous lifestyle she had draped about herself. Later, when she thought back on it, she would think only of the lovely warm feeling the sight of that smile had given her.

Neither of them spoke of it, afterwards. No one brought it up at work, or made the sort of leering insinuations she had come to expect from the local executive pool. But no one had said a word, and she’d gone about her life as normal.

That lovely feeling was gone now, and a sense of dread had been building in the pit of her stomach. She plucked the card from her breast pocket, looking around. The feeling kept building.

She dialed the number. A calm dissociation settled over Everrett’s mind as it began to ring.

On the third ring, and clipped British man’s voice came over the line. “Yes.”

“Vermillion effervescent hedgehogs?” She read dreamily from the card. What an odd thing to put there. It was almost like a code phrase in a spy movie. How funny! She stumbled over the thought, lost in the fog.

A long pause. “How bad?”

The words bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. “Ghouls. They made...they know. Get out now.” Something was odd about her intonation, the cadence of her own voice. Everett couldn’t dredge up the ability to care, in that moment. This was a dream, wasn’t it? Of course it was.

The man on the other end inhaled sharply. “I understand,” he said. Then, with a touch of what sounded like grief, he said “I’m sorry,” and hung up the phone.

Everrett replaced the receiver slowly. A brief moment passed, and she shook her head, looking around. I must have been woolgathering, she thought.

The office had told her to return to the office once their business was completed. This was a good time to go. She had dropped the visiting executive off at the laboratory, with their many spare rooms and expansive grounds. No need to linger in this place any longer than strictly required.

Keys in hand, Kate Everett left the mansion, climbed into her car, and drove back to town.

“Goodbye, creepy mansion. Someone else can take this shift next time,” she muttered to herself. Better yet, there seemed to be a heliport being completed near to the lot.

She only looked back once.

---

Marigold sat very still in the plush conference room chair, head bowed and eyes closed, with hands folded primly in her lap. She’d asked for a glass of water, citing a headache. An assistant had been sent to get one from down the hall, and the two researchers watched her like a hawk, as she appeared to be collecting herself. It had bought ninety seconds at most, but it was enough. Had to be enough.

Would never be enough.

The television at the head of the table continued to show a gruesome scene. A pair of rats, one infected with the ‘T-Virus’, the other healthy were being shown in a divided cage. A series of edited cuts showed the progression of the infection over several hours, with the healthy rat moving as far back as possible from its neighbour, who was in serious, almost mutagenic decline.

After several hours, the video, narrated by Doctor Birkin, showed the infected mouse shuddering its last breath before it collapsed.

At a posted twenty minutes later, the infected rat moaned, and climbed back to its feet. Its eyes locked on its neighbour, and it lurched forward, eyes never leaving it. She had never heard a rat scream before, as far as she knew.

Marigold watched, hardening into the certainty that she wouldn’t be allowed to walk out of this place again. Little fool. What else did you expect, walking into this viper's nest? But nothing had prepared her for the true horror of it.

This was the point where she had called for a glass of water. Head down, she could still hear the tinny moans through the television, hear the increasing agitation of the other mouse. That sheer horror drove her to push harder. This was a difficult trick to pull off at the best of times, but it seemed that the burst of adrenaline in her system helped to push the message through.

A soft clink told her they had returned. Marigold opened her eyes to look dully at the glass of water. A sharp certainty came to her that there was surely more than water in that glass. She left it where it was.

On the screen, the divider had been removed, and the infected mouse had set upon the other, cutting off its screams with teeth, and blood. Moments later, they both began to wander aimlessly around the cage again, ears tracking for...something.

She looked across the table at the two researchers. A pair of security guards had stationed themselves outside the door, following the two inside.

They wore gas masks. They were also armed. Not heavily, but nonetheless.

“So,” She said, trying for a conversational tone. Her voice wavered only slightly. “You have Sonnetroppe, and made ghouls. Should I be looking for a lightning rod outside, or was it left behind with Marcus?” She should be keeping the acid out of her voice. That would be the smart thing. 

Birkin’s face contorted with contempt. “This is a breakthrough. Of course, it’s not the end goal, but all Marcus could make living matter do with Prototype was die.” He actually seemed offended at the thought of sharing credit.

Because...”Your classmates?” She asked, almost gentle. Birkin stared back at her in defiance, while Wesker’s mouth hardened into a thin line. This, what was before her, was monstrous, but monsters were made. That stupid, horrid little man.

And Spencer had orchestrated all of it. Or, had considered them acceptable collateral. A sharp spike of rage hit her. Long practice kept her stillness intact, though it was a near thing.

The video continued, with the voiceover detailing cellular activity and what the next stage of the work would bring. The tiny moans continued.

A wave of exhaustion rolled over Marigold, on the heels of her anger. She’d pushed harder than she meant to, and done it through her suppressants. The emotional toll would always cost more than just her peace of mind, on top of that. Any of those things individually tended to do a number on her.

The telephone at the conference table began to ring. “Ah,” Wesker said, reaching to turn off the video - finally, she had been on the edge of sending the glass into it like a guided missile - and smiled, like all was well in the world. “Speaking of which, there was one guest who we’ve requested to be conferenced in. He picked up the receiver, hit a button to put the call on speaker, and replaced it within the cradle.

The voice seemed mildly agitated, on the other end. “Doctor Wesker? You told me to call you right away if something happened.”

“I did.” He kept his eyes trained on Marigold, as if waiting for something to happen.

“Well, he’s on the floor, sir.” A sobbing sound could be heard in the background. Something raw and wounded was bound up in that sound. “He started screaming out of the blue a moment ago. Now he’s on the floor.” The voice sounded more intrigued than worried. “Are you testing something? Head office won’t be happy to hear that Marcus is out of commission again, even with the demotion.”

“No,” Wesker replied, meeting Marigold’s eye with a smile that was growing glacial. “A pre-existing condition, I believe. Thank you for confirming something. That will be all.” He ended to call before the other man could reply.

She looked back. “Oh dear.” she said. “Do you think I ought to send a card?”

“He likely knows you’re in town by now,” Birkin, the skeptic, said slowly, shooting an incredulous look at Wesker.

That sick feeling was returning, compounded by the headache. What had been an affectation earlier was now very much real.

“How long?” she asked. It could have meant so many things. Birkin supplied an answer, slow and with a touch of mounting horror. “No one goes from fully functional to bedridden in the course of a phone call.”

“Yes, I’m sure he was the very picture of stability while you were under his employ,” she replied coolly. “He was a vicious idiot when I met him, and not much has changed since then, it seems.”

“Hardly at all, I imagine.” Wesker almost seemed apologetic. “Spencer’s rather perplexed that you could hide something like this for so long - he seems to feel there was an exposure early in the project - but I doubt he looked too closely, considering how much your contribution brought to the company. Anyone who truly did would pick up the pattern. He seemed genuinely upset at the thought, but I doubt he was truly surprised.” He looked her up and down. “How long was the masquerade meant to last, I wonder?” He sighed when she remained silent, and stood. “Well, there’s time enough to untangle that part.”

She thought of her father.

Her niece, and nephew. Her brother, who had warned her not to push her luck for much longer. She hoped they got out in time. They still might, if this visit was only meant to test their theory.

Rockfort Island. “Tell me more about the headaches. They usually come with a spike in the exposure factor.”

Oh.

Heh.

The two researchers had stood quickly, apparently signally the guards at the door to hold the exit as they. moved to the other side of the glass. “Boys?” She called at their retreating backs. They paused in the doorway. “Are you sure about this? It won’t go the way you think it will.” She seemed to relax, rising slowly as the guards held their positions. She gave them a rueful little smile. “Everyone thinks they’re more clever than anyone else around,” she continued, almost to herself. Birkin shot her a startled look, then shut the door behind them.

A steel-tipped fountain pen laid by her hand, inlaid with the Umbrella logo. She picked it up thoughtfully, smiling at the guards as if they had just arrived for tea. A hissing sound above her head told her that some sort of gas was being released into the room. She’d have to move fast. “Gentlemen,” she said, “I do apologize for this.”

Reaching down, she hefted the heavy table up to flip it over in the direction of her would-be assailants as if it were made of matchsticks, and began to advance upon the door.

Time to let go.

---

Something was wrong with her eyes. The room swam in and out of focus while she stumbled along the corridor towards the exit.

Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her pen.

(the guard rushing towards her, his comrade crying weakly, struggling to free his broken legs from under the table. A lateral hammer blow embedded the lethally sharp tip through his temple)

Their reinforced door of the conference room had been reasonably strong, but it was easy to forget about walls. She’d made her own exit with very little fuss, to the horror of onlookers.

(stepping through the hole, covered in drywall dust and splashed in the blood of the guards. She’d make a very effective poltergeist if she weren’t so damned grim. Her glasses are abandoned and cracked on the floor. Her smart blazer, ripped while she was ‘remodeling’, now discarded. A small combat knife had been tucked into a sheath at her back- good tailoring had made it easy to miss. Should anyone here survive, they’ll start screening guests for weapons after this)

The two researchers had called for backup quickly. On her right, a vaguely familiar-looking brunette in her late thirties came rushing past her, throwing herself at the guards with fury, tearing at their weapons and helmets with her bare hands. More running footsteps followed. Someone screamed to lock down the level.

While the gas hadn’t quite taken her down, it had had some effect. She felt oddly drunk, weaving and pushing her way through the corridor towards the elevator, towards the exit. To hell with it. She might as well earn her punishment.

Someone fired a shot. A sharp pain passed through her shoulder. She looked down to see a trickle of blood from the wound, rapidly closing. She turned toward the terrified gaggle of guards, swaying slightly on her feet. The moment seemed to stretch out unbearably between them.

One of the arriving guards stepped up and shot the frenzied woman attacking them in the head, snapping the rest out of their fugue. The footsteps were getting closer; screams rang out above them, on the administrative level.

Marigold looked up, startled, “’S a new one,” she muttered. She’d suspected that this could happen, but it had been a theory. She had worked so hard to make sure it was only ever a theory.

The freshly murdered operations manager, a woman she’d had drinks with at a post-meeting social three years earlier, stared lifelessly at the ceiling, with more above ready to follow her into the abyss. The ones upstairs would follow her without a second thought. Because of her.

She really was a monster.

The room was starting to spin. Had to keep moving. The headache was progressing to the point where she was seeing spots in her vision, and that was never a good sign. It seemed to be eating the entire world.

A tall man in a labcoat and gas mask (cold) flashed in her periphery. Before she could respond, she felt a sharp pinch at her neck. Someone stepped firmly on the back of her knee, pushing her to the ground with a firm hand wrapped around the back of her neck as she lost the battle to stay upright.

She’d managed her human contact through clinical means and barriers of all kinds for years. Overtaxed and desperate, the hand pressing on the back of her neck made her cry out in shock. Marigold barely felt the restraints on her wrists clamp down as she tipped over the edge of consciousness, and the world quite suddenly went away.

[studyingmoominvalley]

Emotions

(A prequel oneshot to The Gastroentomologist)

TW: implied violence, misgendering, implied meltdown (idk how to do a "read more" on mobile)

The headline read, "Professor Fizzlebean discovers new a strand of bacterial infection - could it harm grumpuses?"

This was a rather new headline for them. Most of the time, the articles questioned their dangerous methods or wild personality. But the journalist who interviewed them this time was... sweet. She didn't find them strange, in fact they seemed to share a lot in common. She even smiled at them and was willing to listen to what they had to say fact-wise rather than opinion-wise. They had met their fair share of annoying, emotionally obsessed parasites who ended up completely twisting their stories and framing Floofty as untrustworthy. But everything in this article was to the point, honest and so very nice...

They kept rereading the praise over and over which was given to them in the article itself. They were complimented for their smarts, their achievements, and for some reason their sense of style too. This would have annoyed them if it weren't so nice. Oddly, everytime they read the compliments, their heart seemed to skip a beat and their smile grow larger. What had this journalist done to them?

"And there's our grump of the hour!" Someone hit Floofty square on the back, which startled them and caused them to drop the newspaper and yelp in surprise. The grumpus just laughed, showing no sympathy. A typical thing for Daug Fishflint to do. "Your first discovery worthy of a good report! But not with any interesting results mind you." He laughed again, but before Floofty could speak he was patting them on the back like they were an old friend. "It's a joke, Floofty, we're all buddies here!"

He was too close, too loud. Floofty just wanted him to go away already. But they couldn't speak. It wouldn't help anyway, it never did.

"Ah, Professor Fizzlebean!" A new voice called out as Iktoria Blitzkelp came over, "The danger to our society finally does something noteworthy!"

"The professor was smiling at the newspaper like a madgrump," Daug remarked to Iktoria, causing her to let out a laugh, "The praise is driving them insane!" Now Floofty's ears were ringing. Why wouldn't they stop laughing? Why won't they shut up and leave them alone? Weren't they allowed to be happy?

"Or," Jippi Rowpebble approached the three, his arms crossed and a smirk across his face, "Floofty over here's in love. It's not every day you get interviewed by a hot journalist." The group of scientists laughed once again, driving Floofty mad.

"Oh come on she wasn't that good looking!"

"Good looking enough for Floofty to get obsessed with them! Didn't you feel the tension between them?"

"It could have been a brewing murder plot-"

A harsh cry interrupted the three and they turned to look at the source. Floofty. They were stood there, their fist clenched, their teeth bared. The scientists were about to laugh again, but the maddened one interrupted once again.

"Am I not allowed to smile?! Am I not allowed to be happy?! I can't show my emotions around people like you because this is how you act! You can't accept my emotions, so I don't show them! Why should I?!" The room was silent. So, so silent. One could drop a pin and hear it land. Jippi smirked, Iktoria let out a snort, but Daug burst into hysterics. The laugh. The horrid, annoying laugh. It was all too much for Floofty to bare. But he crossed the line. Oh, he really crossed the line.

"God, girls are so emotional! Get a hold of yourself!"

The rest was a blur. They weren't sure what came over them, but they soon found themselves being held back in front of a recoiling Daug, holding his face in agony. They tried to pull away, glancing over at Iktoria. She didn't agree with what had happened despite what Daug had said. She had been brainwashed; brainwashed by these horrible men.

Dangerous, reckless. No wonder they had this reputation. They lost their job at the lab because of this. But it wasn't their fault, was it? It wasn't... They were overwhelmed, annoyed, out of control, scared. They didn't want to hurt anyone, they just didn't. Violence wasn't the answer. But unfortunately, violence was what their body resorted to when out of control. This is what happened when the showed their feelings...

So they stopped.

[siremasterlawrence]

Project Red

Andrew is this random guy I found exiting a man hole in the middle of the vacant city street.

I found him helping him out to the alley way corner placing him on the ground and his back laying on the wall.

He falls in to a deep coma like state he is in shock of it all and I dig in to my pockets to find something.

Lifting a tiny mini chip in my palm I place it in his neck loving the sight of the needle dig in to his skin.

The needle go in immediate affect sending a pulsing sensation through his veins addling his mind.

I am in awe of seeing his expression go from one of sleep like state in to a mindless like a zombie expression.

“What a rousing success”

“Well enough with the boasting it’s time to get on with it”

“Commence the sting trap”

“HIVE activated”

“I’ll meet you back at my laboratory “

“Hurry post haste “

Upon arrival to my home the shipment slips in through the opening to my sub station below my home.

A true marvel if I say so myself I follow with a renewed sense of power surging through my bones.

The doors slide down triggering the central light system to blur on blinding me for a second,

I could careless humanity so if you have any issues with envision it’s best to exit my lab now.

I always imagine my laborious efforts to be the fruit of my imagination, the birth of a world and of course my escape.

Unfortunately, the world has away stripping you of all those notions and well I am plan to turn the tide.

“Report output flow “

“Transformation currently stalling at fifty four percent.”

“Raise out put by a two hundred percent”

“What is the brainwaves activity”

“System is running…running…running”

“Falters….wait…at normal pulse brain patterns are changing progressively.”

Andrew is by far a ginger and by the looks of it sexy as fuck once you get him out of those horrid clothes.

He probably works for the city with that get up I bet he is a engineer working in the sub way system.

He is covered in a ton of soot from his head to his shoes so disconcerting if you think of what he could have caught.

The machine shoots a loud whistling sound blowing out hot air a sign of more to come.

The brainwave activity comes to slow crawl proving to me the probing sensation is a go.

The electrical sensation spirals in to his skin down to his nerves leaving him at all time to low and discombobulating.

“Let’s see! Take dictation for me please and speed it up.”

“At your service”

“Naturally! He prefers to be called Andy and is of zero iq”

“Personality submissive and dumbed down”

“Athletic and work our freak “

“Oh yeah! Directive 24 hours begin”

“You will love me”

“You will be reformed “

“You will become what I will”

“Process finishing”

“Andy has arrived “

“Wooohooo!”

“Sir Yes Sir”

“Who am I?”

“Andy submit”

“Yes Sire Lawrence “

“I love you Sire”

“Good boi! Andy “

“I am your toy”

“Use me!”

“Call me Andy “

The end

[cjsmalley]

Damian Meets the Waynes:

Chaos.

“Enough!” Bruce, Batman, roared in that voice that nobody—not even Jason at his worst—ignored.

Everyone stilled, statues, and waited for information, for instructions.

Bruce nodded sharply, “Thank you. As I was saying, I ran the DNA test myself and it came back as a positive match to both myself and Talia al-Ghul. King Phantom’s most trusted advisor assures us all that there is no mistake. The boy—Damian—is my biological son.”

Tim nodded, already typing away, “So extraction plans—Babs, could you—”

“No,” Bruce refuted, “no need. We’re leaving him with the Phantoms. They’ve loved and raised him.”

“Then why tell us?” Dick cried out, obviously putting together the pieces that Talia had told the most horrid lie.

“Because his parents are going to allow visitation,” Bruce explained, “as long as Damian wants it.”

He inhaled, “They’re coming for dinner next week; I’ve already spoken to Alfred. Missus Phantom, the Queen, and Damian are both strictly vegan and both eat kosher.”

Jason nodded, “I’ll help Alfie then.”

Alfred nodded back, “Very good, Master Jason

“Why does the Queen eat?” Stephanie asked, “Isn’t she a ghost?”

“She’s human. Her husband’s the ghost. Though I’m told he also eats. Speedster level metabolism, I’m told.”

Bruce braced himself, “And they know I’m Batman. They most likely know about all of you. Damian was in the cave for testing.”

Chaos.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Please, treat us like normal humans,” the King said, “we’re not here as royalty but as Damian’s parents.”

“You got it,” Stephanie flashed a thumbs up, “Mr. Phantom, Mrs. Phantom.”

“Danny and Sam,” Sam corrected, “just Danny and Sam.”

“How did you get Damian?” Dick questioned.

“Father was summoned by my maternal grandfather,” Damian explained simply, “I was the sacrifice to the Ghost King in exchange for a longer life. Father and Mother adopted me despite their ages at the time.”

Every vigilante went still.

“Ex-fuckin’-cuse me?” Jason demanded, eyes flashing.

“Master Jason.”

He winced, “Sorry, Alfie.”

But Danny cocked his head, “You—you died before, didn’t you?”

Everyone stiffened, “What do you mean?”

“I can recognize other undead,” Danny explained, “You—you’re something I’ve never seen but undead all the same. Or maybe extremely liminal. But you don’t have a core so you’re not even half-ghost.”

“Someone can be half-ghost?” Bruce’s mind whirled.

Danny smiled sadly, “It’s very rare but it happens. Usually lab accidents and extreme exposure to ectoplasm in traumatic ways.”

Everyone contemplated this.

“But Jay isn’t half-ghost?” Tim asked, thinking.

“Nope. Stinks of ectoplasm but no core so no ghostliness.”

Jason sighed, wiping a hand down his face, “But I was killed then resurrected then dumped into a Lazarus Pit by Talia.”

“Glowing green liquid? Used by the old guy who gave us Damian?” Danny asked.

“Yep.”

“That would do it. That’s corrupted ectoplasm,” Danny sighed tiredly, “nasty stuff. Lemme guess, mood swings?”

“Irrational, unstoppable, homicidal rage,” Jason reported.

“Figures. Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Can we go back to Jason being undead?” Dick demanded, “And Damian being a sacrifice?”

“I don’t think he’s actually undead,” Danny replied, “lots more complications with being all undead. I think he’s just extremely liminal—that means, closer to Death or death-touched than most healthy people. Can’t be sure without him getting checked by an expert. Like my doctor, Frostbite.”

“As for Damian,” Sam spoke up, “it’s good form to have a sacrifice of some sort on hand if you wanna make a Deal. The previous King liked human sacrifices. We don’t but we accept them and adopt them into the family.”

“I have several siblings so adopted as well,” Damian said, “only three were wished away accidentally, for their own safety.”

“Dinner is ready,” Alfred announced and led everyone to the larger dining room where the tablet was fairly groaning with dishes and pitchers.

Dinner was a quiet affair until Damian questioned Dick on his acrobatic abilities; after that, with the Bat secret out, dinner was loud and rambunctious as the Wayne family simply accepted the Phantoms into the fold.

Wished Away 5

Damian's First Cold:

The first time Damian got sick was an ordeal.

His parents fretted and worried, hovering, helping clear his little nose with a suction bulb.

It was just a cold, all the medical professionals agreed, but little coughs broke hearts.

The yetis refused to cure him, citing his immune system needing to develop, and his pediatricians could only treat the symptoms.

They shushed and they cooed; they walked and rocked him. They sang and cried with him.

Then Sam got sick as well.

She refused to stay down in bed.

Then Danielle got the cold as well. She at least had the sense to suffer in bed. But her powers went on the fritz. Which was when they discovered her own ice powers.

Danny and Tucker were near run off their feet and the Fentons and Mansons had to step in.

“I’m fine,” Sam protested from her bed, as everyone had relocated to the Mansons’ Mansion.

“No, honey, you’re not,” Jeremy replied, patting her back through a coughing fit.

“But Dani and Dami—”

“Are well in hand, Samantha,” Pamela arrived with soup, “they have their father, uncle, and both sets of grandparents. It’s okay to rest.”

Sam sagged back slightly, “Frostbite—”

“Is monitoring Danielle,” Pamela informed her simply, handing over the soup, “Doctor Peterson is on-call for Damian. Clockwork is handling the Realms for Daniel.”

“Fine,” she accepted the soup with some grace, “I want updates though; and I will get up if Danny goes down with this cold.”

“Understandable.

Thankfully, Danny never did get the cold and everyone was well enough a few days later.

The last holdout was Tucker, who isolated in his house so as not to infect anyone again.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Hexbolt

Inspired by my own prompts? Maybe a little bit.

Summary: The former villain Hex makes a desperate choice to escape captivity-- only to realize just what they have gotten into.

CW//Solitary confinement, extreme isolation, attempted self harm, screaming, sensory deprivation, desperation, captivity, crying, syringes, trackers

The cell had been designed for them.

Hex had realized that the moment they’d been thrown in, though the implications hadn’t struck them all at once. The cage was six foot by six foot-- at least, that was how they’d approximated it, considering that when they stretched out, their head touched one wall and their feet brushed the other. It was the same in the vertical direction, giving them enough room to stand, but nothing else.

They weren’t claustrophobic. At the very least, they had been trying to convince themself that they weren’t for the last...

The last...

How long had they been in here?

There was no indication of night or day-- the walls, floor, and ceiling alike were all coated in a thick black rubber, devoid of windows of any sort. Even the single vent had been covered with a thin layer of black, allowing in only the smallest breaths of stale air. The door was the same. They knew there was a door, but it was only visible when open.

Hex had no idea how long their world had been consumed by black. Long enough that whenever the slot on the cell door was opened, it hurt their eyes, making them flinch back.

There were scared of the light, even as it sounded stupid to think about. Well, they weren’t scared of the light. Not exactly. Moreso, they were frightened by its implication.

Light meant attention. It meant that someone had remembered them, here in this hole.

Usually, it only meant this in a minor way: One of the guards had remembered to bring them food, or water. That might have happened on a regular basis, or it might have not. Without light, without human contact, they had no way of knowing. Sometimes, food came. That was all.

Sometimes they would catch a glimpse of a hand, or, even better, a face. Something, anything, to remind them that other humans existed.

They cried, those days. Even as they tried not to think about life before, about life before this little black box, they could not. They only knew the cage.

In a way, they hated just how simple it had been to contain them. With the ability to take hold of technology, escape should have been simple-- a matter of tripping a fire alarm, or, if their captors had been particularly careless, simply opening their own cell door remotely.

But they could not grasp anything beyond a rubber wall, blocking their signals. Their powers had a range, at the moment, of six feet by six feet. There was not so much as a light they could play with.

Only silence and black.

They screamed sometimes. No one heard. Slamming against the walls of their cell did equally little-- the rubber was too flexible to provide any sort of sound or injury.

A stupid little box. That was all it took to contain Hex. They had always thought the League of Heroes to be far too stupid to come up with something restrictive enough, strong enough to keep them contained. But they had. And it was a box.

Did their former foes even remember them? Timeline? Mantas? The Sentinel? Anyone?

Maybe they were dead. Maybe everyone they had known was, passed of old age while they were in this six by six by six foot cube. Perhaps, something in this cell was simply keeping them alive. Prolonging their loneliness.

And no one would ever remember them, ever again.

Hex shifted to a sitting position, back pressed against one of the rubber walls. Which one was lost to them-- they could not see in the dark, and there was no difference between the walls anyways.

They hugged their legs to their chest. When had they become so... thin? Was that it? Or had they simply forgotten what they used to look like? They knew they were getting lost in their own thoughts again, but they couldn’t help it. There was nothing else in here, nothing else to engage with.

If their foes had forgotten them, had their friends? All the other villains? Had their inside jokes turned into wistful memories? Their face a fixture in the background of ancient photographs?

They were crying. Maybe if they shed enough tears, dehydration would take them.

The very thought of it brought a warmth of hope to their chest. It was for the sake of that warmth that they allowed their tears to consume them, running down their face, their neck, their dusty grey prison uniform, until, at long last, their own sobs lulled them to a deeper, unconscious darkness.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━   

Hex awoke to light. Hex never awoke to light.

So much light, it burned them, even as they scrambled to cover their eyes. They sputtered, trying to speak, but their attempts were of no use. Instead, they could only wait as their eyes adjusted to the new, blazing inferno before them.

It took far too long, but when they could at last see, their field of vision was filled by a figure, taking up the doorway.

“I asked, are you alive in there?” The idea of a human voice was so horribly unfamiliar, it took Hex a moment to remember what exactly speech was.

“I- I” Their throat was so dry, their words came out as a croak. “What’s going on?”

It was the figure’s next words that made Hex recognize them.

“Guess that’s as good of an answer as any. Long time no see, V-23.”

Why was the Chief here? They were always so busy, so secretive, so...

Why would they care about a forgotten, caged animal?

Their next words were stupid, they knew that, but they needed to know.

“A- Are there any others? Is anyone else still around?”

Uproarious laughter.

“You thought that your friends are anywhere near strong enough to take us out?”

No. They thought age would have taken them.

“I don’t know.” Hex whimpered. Even with the insulting, mocking tone with which they were addressed, they could feel tears beading at the corners of their eyes. Tears of joy, accompanied by a blazing warmth in their chest. “I don’t know.”

“Well, 23, have you enjoyed your stay?”

They were still in the box. They were still- and the door was open. The door was open! They could leave, go, and-

Hex could hardly believe that their legs could still carry their weight. They scrambled to their feet, surging forth, only to be struck.

A hand about their neck, a hand large enough to practically wrap all the way around. It pushed them back, making them fall to their back.

“What?” More laughter. “You thought your sentence was over? You thought you were leaving? Give me a break.”

The tears spilling down their face turned cold. Was their any purpose to this visit besides gloating?

“But, I suppose it’s good to see that you can still walk. Now, you know I’m busy, and I know that I couldn’t care less about you. Trust me, I wouldn’t be looking at your face if I had a choice in the matter. You see, I have an offer for you.”

“An offer?”

“Not that I enjoy dealing with villains, but yes. A deal.”

“A deal.” They repeated.

“Great job, you remember English. Crazy how that works.”

“Shut up.” No. Keep talking, please keep talking.

“Well, you do have that option, believe it or not. Let’s make this very, very simple. You have two choices. First option, I leave you alone. I close this door, and you go back to your little dog crate.”

No. Please no.

“Second option.” There was a horrid, wicked grin to the Chief’s face. “Second option, you switch sides. To put it simply for your little brain, we need a spy. A mole. And you’re just harmless enough to fit that role. You will return to your little friends, and report back.”

Hex felt their heart skip a beat, before beginning to race.

Back home. Back to their friends. More importantly, out of this box. Eating food that could be described as edible, instead of moist blocks of something grey. They could go home, again.

But...

It would mean going against everything. Everyone.

But if they were out of this box, they could do anything. They were sure of that. They could fly, breathe fire, pick up a car, anything, just as soon as they were out of this box. They could escape. Then everything could be like it was before!

And they would never again be placed in a box.

“Yes.” They gasped, exasperated.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll work for you.”

“Good.” The Chief smiled. “Come on, then. We will discuss this further somewhere else. But first, doctor?”

The first figure moved aside, making way for a second, less imposing one, draped in a lab coat. Hex skittered backwards, noting the item in the doctor’s hand-- a sort of broad- tipped syringe. They reached the back of the cell far too quickly.

The doctor stepped forth, and Hex felt their heart lurch to their throat. What did they want? In a moment of unprecedented agility, they darted around them, aiming for the door-- only to be caught in a strangling headlock.

Hex struggled, straining against the Chief’s arm with their hands, but their strength was minuscule compared to that of their captor.

“Where does it go?” The Chief asked gruffly.

“In the neck.” The doctor replied.

They nodded, and Hex felt a second arm wrap about their midsection, holding them still. They could not see the needle being inserted, but they could feel its pinch.

When the Chief finally allowed them to move, they skittered backwards, scratching at the skin that had been pierced. The pinch was only evidenced, now, by the tiniest puncture.

“W-What did you-?” Hex stammered, scratching more forcibly, as though it would remove whatever had been forced beneath their skin. “What did you do?”

The Chief smirked, letting loose a small chuckle.

“Well, we wouldn’t want our little doggy running away, would we? It’s only a tracker. Now, come on. We have a lot to discuss.”

[winterstorm12]

Fearful Part 12

*Warnings: some light swearing*

Part 13

English is not my first language, so all mistakes are my own.

‘If only Bucky would step in to help out....’ Steve mumbled to himself while he paced through the control room. 

Cap was seriously starting to lose his patience with Buck. He understood it must be hard on his best friend, and he had given him plenty of space (and time) to fulfil his promise. But Cap had reached the point where he was done waiting around. It was time to act, with or without the help of Bucky.

No matter how Steve looked at it, time was running short. The Hydra cell could make a movement any moment now, and they have not gotten any closer to getting your ‘’cooperation’’. 

Natasha had kept him updated about the Hydra cell movements in the last couple of weeks. Luckily for them, the cell was dormant and hadn’t done any activity which could be flagged as an attack. While Steve didn’t fully believe that the cell was doing ‘’nothing’’, he was anxious that they might strike without the team being prepared for it.

Knowing the risk, Steve believed that it was more important than ever to get Y/N on their side. They needed all the man power they could get, and having another super soldier beside them could bend the fight to their favor.

Steve didn’t want to think about his plan B, in case they couldn’t stabilize you in time and convince you to join them. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose after looking at the latest report update that Natasha had send him. He knew that plan B would destroy any hope of repairing your bond, but, if you didn’t leave them another choice... 

Steve had to choose the safety of the world above a damaged super soldier. He would activate you, and make you fight...even though he would hate himself for it. 

Of course, he hadn’t shared this plan with anyone. Steve knew that Stark and Sam would disagree. And he didn’t want to think about how Bucky would respond.

He hoped to never having to use his rogue plan. Hence the frustration when it came to Bucky.

------------------------   

Steve didn’t know that in the last couple of weeks, Bucky had started putting in effort to connect with you. 

Steve was convinced that Buck would be a better buddy for you than him. While he always wanted to help people the best he could, he knew that with everything you had gone through, it would be best to have someone there with you who understood your predicament.

Steve still wasn’t sure whether you remembered that morning when things went south in the lab, but, from how closed off you were towards him, he guessed that the trust still wasn’t there between the two of you (with or without memories).

Bucky told you not to let the team know that you both had started spending time together. You didn’t understand the secrecy, but all Bucky said was that it would be better for the both of you, if the others didn’t know about your ‘’get togethers’’. You complied, not caring much for it, but thinking it would keep people of your back.

Whenever you two were outside of your rooms and saw each other, you acted distant towards one another. Which wasn’t a hard thing to do for two ex Hydra experiments with extensive trauma and PTSD.

After the horrid nightmare, that made Bucky remember that he had a shared past with you, he wasn’t sure what to do. His mind was a complete mess, and it felt like he wasn’t physically there. Maybe he should tell Sam about it?

Bucky was scared.... Frightened that Sam would tell him to remove himself from you. He couldn’t let that happen. Bucky had just found you again, and no one would take you away from him. 

He needed time to figure out whether you had started to remember ‘’James’’ or if those memories were lost forever. It was too risky to ask, as you had made such amazing progress, which Bucky didn’t want to halt. 

He was too scared to hurt the bond that had formed between you. He wanted to ask advise but wasn’t sure whether sharing this information would be the smart move to make. Bucky trusted his team, but somewhere in the back of his mind, paranoia started to creep in. What if they’d use it against you? 

And that’s why Cap never saw any improvement happening between you and Buck. Whenever you saw each other, you acted cold and distant, never talking to each other or acknowledging the others existence.

Fed up with Bucky (allegedly) moping around and avoiding you, even after Steve specifically asked him to put in the effort to spend time with you, Steve contacted Ayo. 

He begged her to talk some sense into Bucky. Asking him to agree to being your support buddy in your time at the compound. She was reluctant at first, but after Shuri supported Steve’s idea, she complied.

-------------------

Soon after, Ayo visited the compound and walked straight to Bucky’s room and knocked on his door. *knock, knock*

No answer. Ayo knocked again. She heard some stirring coming from within Bucky’s room and Bucky muttering something. She couldn’t make out what was said, as it sounded muffled to her, but a few moments later Bucky opened the door partially.

Ayo stared at Bucky and scanned him from head to toe. He was wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants and was barefoot. His face showed annoyance and he clearly wasn’t happy being disturbed.

‘Busy?’ she inquired while raising her eyebrow and gazing at Bucky with suspicion. 

Bucky grabbed the doorframe tighter and coughed. ‘No, why? 

It took him a couple seconds.

‘.... Wait..w..what?... AYO?! Bucky’s eyes went wide.

‘What are you doing here!? Clearly surprised by the unannounced reunion, Ayo nodded.

‘Your friend here asked me to pay you a visit.’ 

Steve was standing behind her, and if he wasn’t that disappointed and annoyed with his friend not fulfilling his promise, he would have waved sarcastically. 

‘Why!?’ 

Bucky felt dread starting to radiate through his body. Ayo never left Wakanda unless there was a damn good reason for it. 

‘We need to talk... in private’, Ayo answered. 

‘Okay...?’ Bucky was really confused. 

‘Now!’, Ayo said with a commanding voice. 

Bucky frowned but knew better than to keep Ayo waiting.

‘Okay okay, let me just grab some socks and shoes.’ He closed the door and quickly grabbed his apparel. He opened the door of his room and closed it behind him.

Ayo started to walk ahead of him, and Bucky glared at Steve. ‘Why the fuck did you call her?’ Bucky whispered frustratingly.

‘Because...you didn’t keep your promise’, Steve growled back. ‘Couldn’t think of anyone else who could talk some sense into you but her.’ Steve grinned.

Gloom starting to gather above Bucky’s head, he knew that this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

----------- 

Ayo walked into a separate meeting room and Bucky joined her. Respecting their privacy, Steve left them be and walked back down the hallway to join Stark in his lab.

When both took a seat around the table, Ayo broke the silence.

‘You are playing a dangerous game White Wolf’. 

‘While you might be free.... yes.., you are not freed from your past. You are still chained by guilt.’ She stared at him with a stern expression.

Bucky’s face grew cold and he folded his arms. He could see that Ayo was not in the mood for small talk.

‘What game are you refering to?’

‘Y/N’, Ayo answered.

Bucky grew tense. Why was Ayo bringing you into the conversation all of a sudden? He started to tense up slightly, but did his best not to show Ayo. 

‘What do you mean Y/N? I don’t even talk to her!’ Bucky’s raised his voice.

Ayo shook her head. ‘You think I’m dumb. That I’m blind to what you’ve been doing?’

Bucky shifted on his seat and was starting to get uncomfortable. 

‘You’ve started to build a bond with her, haven’t you? The tone in which you pronounced her name just now simply confirmed my suspicion’. 

Bucky kept quiet. How the hell did Ayo figure out that he had started to grow close to you? He was careful to avoid suspicion and didn’t get the impression that Steve had started to catch on. 

Why else would he have called Ayo?! He just told Bucky that he was annoyed that Buck wasn’t putting in the work.   

Nervously, Bucky scratched his chin and didn’t look her in the eye.

‘I’m not here to reprimand you White Wolf. I’m here to warn you.’

Bucky’s eyes shifted back towards Ayo. ‘Why?’

‘Because you can be each others salvation... or downfall, depending on how the game is played.’ 

Bucky sat up straight in his chair, clenching his fists.

‘How did you find out?’

Ayo stayed quiet for a bit but nodded her head. It was understandable that Bucky wanted to know how she figured out their growing relationship. Especially as she was in Wakanda all this time, and not in the compound.

‘Steve... He reached out after he became worried about your behaviour. Said you would stay inside your room more often than normal and avoided interacting with him.’ 

‘I like to think we are good acquintances. So it perceived it as strange behavior when I heard you isolated yourself by choice. And you...not talking to Steve...This made it clear to me that something was wrong.’

Ayo took a moment to pause.

‘As Y/N stayed in her room as much as you did, I could only assume that either, you were avoiding each other, or something else was going on. I wasn’t sure which one it was, but due to the way you called her name... and you tensing up when I mention her name.... it showed me what was truly going on. You wouldn’t be so worked up over someone you hated....’ 

Bucky knew he had become a bit distant from Steve in the last couple of weeks. He was so focussed on getting to know you better that he didn’t think about the impact it could have on his friend. 

And when he had that painful memory reemerge of your prior connection with him in the Hydra prison cell....he closed off completely.

He could have known that Ayo would figure it out one way or another. She was as sharp as the spear she carried, so it was pointless to deny it. 

Bucky cleared his throat and adjusted his posture.

‘If that’s true, why... why didn’t Steve say anything?’

Ayo quirked her eyebrows. ‘Why do you think that is? 

Bucky shook his head.  

‘He was afraid that Y/N might have brought out some... hurtful memories for you. Based on your past.... you can’t blame him for not wanting to push you into talking to him’.

Bucky’s face grew cold. Why did people automatically asume that because of his fucked up past that he would become unstable if people pushed him?

Sensing Bucky’s frustration rising, Ayo continued talking in a calming voice.

‘James...’

Bucky glared at Ayo. ‘It’s Bucky.’ He glenched his right fist. 

Ayo sighed.

‘We’ve gone through a lot of effort to get you to the point you are now. I don’t want you falling back into that darkness you managed to crawl out of. Even if that means I have to shield you from someone.’

Bucky growled and jumped up from his chair, kicking it over.

‘Y/N ISN’T SOMEONE I NEED PROTECTION FROM. IT’S HER THAT NEEDS PROTECTING FROM ME!’.

Bucky’s chest was heaving and he tried his best to hold back the anger starting to flow out. His piercing blue eyes were blown out wide and he looked ready to attack.

Ayo showed surprise on her face. This was the first time that Bucky had yelled at her in such capacity. She folded her arms and looked up at the infuriated man standing in front of her. 

‘What do you mean, ‘’Needs protecting from you’’?’

Bucky’s jaw locked and he turned around, folding his arms also. He hadn’t told anyone about the emerged memory yet, not even Sam. He wasn’t sure himself what the best course of action to take was.

He had a connection with you, tied to a very dark and painful part of your shared past. Based on what you had confided in him thus far, there was no sign that you had started to remember him (James). He was afraid that sharing this memory with you might break your mind completely. 

Bucky turned back towards Ayo and took a deep breath.

He told Ayo about the nightmare he had a couple days ago, and the emerged memory that accompanied it. When he finished talking Ayo carried a worried expression.

‘This is bad...’, she murmured. 

‘Have you told her about the memory?’

‘NO of course not! I have no idea whether she’s capable of handling it! I don’t want to implode the bond we have build in the last couple of weeks!

Ayo nodded. ‘Good’, she said with slight relieve in her voice.

‘For now, don’t tell her about it. She needs to be as stable as can be before you share this story, okay?’

Bucky nodded in agreement but didn’t feel at ease.

‘A...Ayo..Do...do you think it’s selfish that I want her to remember me?’

Ayo looked at Bucky and saw the pain clear on his face.

‘No....’

‘It is not selfish that you want to reconnect with your past. But....it will be selfish if you push it on Y/N, when she’s not mentally prepared to hear it.’

Bucky stared at the floor for a moment but nodded in the end. He felt a little relieved with Ayo’s reasoning. It was eating away at him for the last couple of days, so it was nice to hear that someone didn’t think it was horrible for him to long for.

‘Good. Now that that is out of the way there is one matter still needed to be discussed.’ Ayo stared at Bucky with a serious expression.

‘Last time Stark was working with Y/N, he didn’t manage to break the bond between her mind and the trigger sequence completely. This is a big problem as we cannot have Y/N walking around like a ticking time bomb. We can never be sure who knows of her trigger sequence and who doesn’t.’

Bucky frowned. He hadn’t thought about that. The last couple of weeks you both shared stories with one another, but the Winter Soldier program never came up fully. Which made sense as it’s something you both rather forgot about.

‘What do you suggest?’ Bucky asked with concern starting to pulsate through his mind. 

Ayo got up from her chair and stopped right in front of Bucky, staring into his eyes.

‘You remember the methods I used to help you break your bond, back in Wakanda?’

Bucky nodded. 

‘Good’.

‘Now I want you to do the same thing for Y/N’.

Bucky’s face twitched and fear was clearly visible in his eyes. 

‘You...you can’t be serious...?!’

‘I am serious.’ Ayo said while putting her hand on Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky shook his head and took a step back.

‘No Ayo... I...I..’. He started to sweat and fear tightened its grip around his heart.

‘I know you’re scared. But right now you are the only person able to help her become free.’

Tears started to form in Bucky’s eyes while he looked back at Ayo. 

‘W...why can’t YOU DO IT!’ He started to panic and shook his head over and over.

Ayo closed the gap.

‘Have faith in yourself White Wolf. You have proven a dozen times over that you are worthy of my praise. There is no one else in this world I would trust this task to but you.’

Bucky’s hands started to shake and he couldn’t bring out a word. Ayo softly grabbed his right hand to have him focus back on her.

‘You are strong, and you are capable of doing this. Help Y/N become free of being controlled against her will..... Have her become as free... as you.’

This hit Bucky straight in his soul. He can still remember when Ayo performed the final test. She spoke his trigger words one by one. He became scared, thinking that it wouldn’t work. That after all this time, the sequence would still be able to control him. Ayo calmly continued speaking the words till she had said the final verb. 

Bucky was shaking, and started crying when Ayo spoke to him the most precious sentence he had heard in all his life: ‘’You are free’’.

He started smiling and crying at the same time. Not being able to believe that he was truly free from the mind control. He no longer had to worry about being triggered into the Winter Soldier.

Bucky wanted you to gain your freedom back. Even if that meant for him to overcome his fear of hurting you. He took a moment to calm down and squished Ayo’s hand.

‘Thank you.... for believing in me’, he whispered while letting go of her hand. Ayo showed a flash of a smile on her face. 

‘The student has become the teacher’. Bucky started to laugh and wiped away some of the tears that had started dripping down his cheek.

‘I will try my best’, he said in a hushed voice. He wasn’t 100% confident in his capability to help you, but he would give it his all.

Ayo nodded. ‘You know what to do, I believe in you’. She patted him on the back and bowed down to pick up the chair that Bucky had kicked over. 

‘It is time for me to leave’, she said while walking towards the door. 

‘If you need advise, you know where to reach me’

‘But promise me one thing....Talk to Steve. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself’.  Bucky nodded.

While the task ahead was going to be hard, he would do whatever it took to help you gain back your freedom. 

-------------------------------------------

Two hours later, Ayo and Bucky emerged from the meeting room. Bucky’s face showed fear but also determination. Steve had been waiting down the hallway for the past 30 minutes, wondering what was taking so long. 

‘They must have had a lot to catch up about’, he mumbled to himself when he heard the door opening and walked up to them.

Ayo nodded to Steve, who thanked her for flying out on such sort notice and for talking to Bucky. He saw that Bucky looked distraught, but didn’t want to bother him about it. 

Steve joined Ayo on her way out while leaving Bucky behind in the hallway.

‘What did the two of you talk about for so long?’ He asked while keeping a steady pace.

‘Important business’, Ayo replied, not looking at Steve.

‘None of MY business, copy that,’ Steve smirked while keeping his gaze in front of him. The rest of the walk was quiet and Steve and Ayo made their way outside the building.

‘It will not be easy’. Ayo said while stopping in front of her plane. 

‘This plan you have of Bucky supporting Y/N, might not have the desired effect you wish for. Time might not be on your side.’

Steve looked at Ayo worried. Did this mean Ayo thought you could become a threat? 

‘But Bucky will help her, right?’ 

‘Yes....White Wolf will help....but don’t forget the trauma he has gone through himself. He might have been freed from the trigger words, but he will never be free from his past.’

More worry creeping into Steve’s mind, he stepped in front of Ayo. ‘My friend might be a lot of things, but he’s no quitter!’ Ayo looked in amusement. 

‘You really care about your friend, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do! We’ll be there for each other till the end of the line.’

Ayo folded her arms and stared at Steve. ‘That is the reason why Bucky is where he is right now. You have a history together. You’ve supported each other no matter the odds. But more importantly, you have his trust.’

Steve froze and processed what Ayo threw at him. Of course he had Bucky’s trust. Buck knew that Steve would die for him if needed be.

He wanted to respond but Ayo cut him off. ‘If you have the trust of White Wolf, you need to give him your trust in return. He’s stronger than you think.’

Ayo climbed into the aircraft and took off. Leaving Steve alone with his thoughts.

--------------------

Tags:

@vicmc624​

@psychadelichues

[ettawritesnstudies]

The Test

I had a flash of inspiration around 1am last night, skipped ahead several chapters, and wrote this scene in a mad fever instead of doing my lab report. This brings me to almost half of my nano goal! It’s also got mild spoilers but I cut it right before the plot twist, in case that’s something you’re concerned about. Hope you like it! (673 words long)

If you haven’t seen this WIP yet, I introduced it Here! If you want to read the first lines those are posted here!

“May we have your name, little one?” The queen crooned. Hannah set her jaw. She prepared for this.

“You may not have my name, but you may call me Maria,” She answered. There were millions of Marias in the world and they bore a good name - a safe, powerful, beautiful one, but not hers.

“Let us offer you these sweet cakes then, Maria,” The king said. A platter materialized out of the air, filled with luscious tarts.

“I humbly decline, for I had my meal at home.”

They grinned, an identical, sharp-toothed grin. “What do you seek from the Seelie Court of Autumn?” The queen asked.

“My sister.”

“Which do you want?” the king asked, “For there are many.”

“Mine.”

“My dear,” the queen purred, “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Yes, she would need to be exacting in her request, lest they pull a horrid trick on her for their amusement. Lest they endanger Ce- her sister. Best to avoid even thinking her name in their presence. Who knew what they could do?

“I believe your people took my sister last night during the thunderstorm, between the hours of midnight and four today. She spoke of the Piper, and his flutes on the wind. I couldn’t hear his music, because he didn’t come for me. She vanished the next morning. I wish for her freedom to return to our home and our parents.”

“You wish, hmmmmmm?” The king mused. “We do not owe you a wish, but yours is a noble plea.”

Her heart leap with hope. Would they consider?

“Why?” the queen asked.

Why? A million reasons, but should she reveal her heart now? Hannah ventured for a safe answer. “Because our mother and father will be cross with us if we return late for dinner,”

“Why?” Insisted the king.

Hannah’s stomach turned as they pressed into her with that driving tone. The facade of indulgent amusement dropped like taking off a mask, leaving behind hard, angry eyes. Why did they toy with her? Was her request so unreasonable? “Because she left without a word, and I am worried for her.”

“Why?” Hissed the queen.

“Because I miss her. Because I love her.”

They gave her those same, sharp-toothed grins again. Hannah wanted to slap those smiles right off their silly little faces. She held her breath as they waited for an agonizingly long moment before the king spoke.

“How do you know her, when you cannot call her by name?”

Around her appeared a dozen figures–girls that all looked exactly like Hannah’s sister. They all gazed at her with wild, desperate expressions. She shrunk back, but more popped up behind her. Hannah scowled at the ring of possible imposters as she realized the trick. One would be the truth, trapped in the game. The others would be illusions. She had to choose.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself.

“I know her by her footsteps when she creeps into my room at night to watch the thunderstorms.” They took a step towards her, menacing. Those three, those were wrong. Hannah snapped open her eyes and banished several of the imposters. With a wave of her hand, they vanished into a puff of smoke.

“I know my sister by her laugh when I tell her a terrible pun,” Hannah said. The girls all laughed, seemingly on command. She couldn’t tell apart individual voices, but there was a silence from one side as one didn’t laugh. She had said nothing funny. Banished. Vanished. Smoke.

“I know her by her kindness when she sneaks our cats extra treats. I know her by her competitiveness when she jumps off the top of a maple tree to beat me in a race.” One flinched at the idea of breaking bones, but her sister never hesitated with heights. Banished. Vanished. Smoke.

One remained. Hannah locked eyes with it through the smoke and her eyes stung with tears. “I know my sister,” she repeated. “And she knows me.”

[dear-alex-chill]

SHADOW WAR EPILOGUE

There was a loud buzzing and ringing in his ears. Someone was talking but he couldn't hear, he felt like he was underwater. That's when he felt the pain kick in. It felt like someone had dragged him by his shoulders through all of Duckburg and back to the bin before throwing him and leaving him. Gyro groaned before turning his head to the side and feeling a mix of water and spit fall out of his mouth. He was pretty sure he tasted something like iron but he wasn't going to think of that. He coughed up more water still unable to move. Eventually he was able to breathe on his own as he layed there still not opening his eyes. He could tell it wasn't light out so he simply layed there unmoving. Gyro secretly hoped that he'd fall back into unconsciousness soon so he could fast forward the pain. His wish came true as he embraced the sweet numbness.

--5 Minutes Prior with Fenton----

They had done it! They had defeated Magica and he got his suit back. Everyone was swimming in the money ((or at least trying to)) except for Scrooge who was staring out. Fenton walked over, wondering if Scrooge too had seen a weird shadow ball covered in purple magic fall out of the sky during the battle. Fenton had just showed up when it happened, he assumed it was debris, but one could never tell.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He offered to Scrooge

Scrooge stared ahead, his eyes scanning the water. "Where'd he go?" He muttered

"Um, who exactly?" He asked. Was someone lost or hurt? Did someone get carried off by the shadows? Did magica still have power? Was there another threa-

"Gyro."

Fentons heart stopped as a sinking feeling quickly replaced the victorious buzz he had been feeling. "W-what?"

"He was flung into the ocean during battle. I didn't get the chance to see him resurface." Scrooge stated looking at the water.

Fenton felt his heart quicken. "Was he uh, was he surrounded by shadows and purple light?" He asked nervously

"Yes. Magica wanted to sacrafice him but that old coon couldn't tell if I was lying by saying he was a work aquaintence" Scrooge chuckled a little.

"..oh.." Fenton murmured

"I'm sure he's fine. Gyro's a lot tougher than he looks, and for what we give him credit for" he added before turning back to his family.

"Thanks for the help lad." Scrooge said walking away leaving Fenton alone with his worries.

Gyro had been the one in that blast. Fenton just assumed no one could survive it so it must've been debris. His heart rate sped up even more as he nervously walked to the edge of the bin staring at the water. Fenton shook his head, deciding to go down to the beach/shore instead. He'd probably get a better view from there.

---

Fenton walked along the shore looking at the water out ahead of him hoping to see a sign of anything. A rubber life jacket floated past that looked like it could fit one of the kids but nothing else was out there. Fenton kept walking as the light faded. Maybe Gyro had made it to the opposite shore? Maybe Gyro went back into the bin and was down in the lab? Maybe Gyro was safe at home treating his wounds? Fenton hoped it was the last option but his gut said different. He kept walking, staring at the great expanse of water before he heard something. It sounded like a labored groan from another creature. Fenton turned his head curiously before he spotted a familiar shade of yellow amongst the sand. He ran over to it, picking up Gyro's hat that was laying on the ground. He held it close to his chest; It still smelled like Gyro. It also smelt like seawater, fish, and dirt but that didn't matter to Fenton. Fenton inhaled the scent his heart beating more as he felt calm for a moment. Naturally his anxiety returned and heightened but he had a new sense of determination. If Gyro's hat had made it back then so would Gyro, he couldn't be too far. Another groan this time quieter suprised Fenton as he looked around, spotting a hand upturned towards the sky. Fenton ran over still holding the hat, he slowed down as he got to the person.

It was Gyro.

Gyro was there lying in the sand, one arm up by his head the other one limp at his side, his body partially turned on the side. His hair was messy, soaked, and dirty. His feathers were coated in sand and Fenton was sure that Gyro would not want to wear that outfit again. Fenton looked at Gyros face, crouching down and brushing the hair out of his eyes. Gyro was peaceful almost, obviously ignoring the small amount of blood on his beak and the obviously horrid condition he was in. Gyro's face was relaxed, the bags under his eyes lessened and he wasn't scowling or frowning. Fenton felt tears come to his eyes as he smiled seeing Gyro in one piece. That smile quickly faded when he realized Gyro was breathing very shallowly, his chest rising and falling only once every 15 seconds. Fenton knew Gyro needed medical attention ASAP but he wouldn't be able to carry him himself and yelling wouldn't do that much good. Fenton stepped back a solid 3 feet before yelling out,

"Blathering Blatherskite!" As the armour came flying towards him.

'this should do it' he thought looking at the Gizmosuit armour on him before he rolled over and scooped up Gyro, carrying the man bridle style and grabbing Gyro's hat. Gyro's body was limp in his gizmo-arms, his head lolled to the side. Fenton looked at him sadly praying to God he would be ok. Fenton rolled back to the bin to be greeted by everyone, as Fenton held up Gyro, Scrooge's face hardened demanding Fenton take him to the hospital and Launchpad to start the car. Donald and Beakly took the kids inside promising them a sleepover in the bin and vending machine snacks.

--3 Days Later with Gyro--

There it was again.

That blasted buzzing/ringing sound.

Gyro let out a growl or a grumble or some sound to express his annoyance before realizing his throat hurt. Gyro cracked open his eyes just a tiny bit to see where he was. It was a room that was both familiar and oddly different. White walls, a small tv shaped blob, some steady beeping sound, muted colors, Fenton at the foot of his bed, sheets, industrial cleaning smell, closed curtains- wait, Fenton at the foot of his bed?! Gyro looked down more, unable to make out the details but able to see a tan blob with a yellow blob and part of a purple blob.

"Wh-hmmm?" He slurred as the blob moved. Gyro now saw two eye shapes as the blob moved more, it looked like Fenton was looking for something he had.

Gyro slowly blinked, trying to squint and see Fenton or anything more than 2 feet away from him really. The blob moved closer before he put something on Gyro's face, Gyro's vision cleared up as he was able to see around him. Sure enough Gyro was in the hospital, wearing a cheap hospital gown, with Fenton there to see whatever condition he was in. Gyro felt a sharp pain in his chest as he winced, Fentons face growing in concern.

"Sir are you ok?"

"I'm just fine" Gyro replied through clenched teeth

"You can't expect me to believe that statement" Fenton replied

"I can hope" Gyro responded feeling the pain subside to a dull throb.

"Well you should rest. You're not getting released until tommorow anyways. No point in faking your fine"

"But I am fine!" Gyro protested trying to move before feeling his shoulders hurt too and settling to lay back.

Fenton walked over putting his hand on Gyro's.

"I'm glad you're back sir" he said warmly

"T-thanks.." Gyro mumbled looking away

"I'm serious, I'm glad you're alive." Fenton replied

"Well, I'm not exactly. I mean, I'm gonna be in debt for years being in this hospital room! How long was I out anyways?"

"3 days" Fenton replied as Gyro leaned back groaning

"I'm financially fucked." He deadpanned

"I wouldn't say that.." Fenton said

"Well I would. Why do you think me and Manny gave a grade-A medkit in the lab? I'll tell you it's not company policy." Gyro responded, his mood sour.

Fenton looked at the door, "I'm sure you'll be fine. I can try to help if you want?" He suggested

"Oh no. No way. You are not paying a cent. That's final" Gyro said stubbornly

"Neither of you are paying a cent." Another voice said as both of them turned to see who it was. Scrooge walked in the room, shutting the door.

Gyro leaned back miserably, 'could this day get worse?' he thought

"Gyro." Scrooge said as Gyro snapped to attention.

"Y-yes?"

"I'm paying for this hospital stay, so you won't have to worry about that." He said with a small smile.

"T-thank you sir!"

"I'd thank your 'assistant' for getting you from the shore if I were you" Scrooge said nodding towards Fenton. "If not for him we would've lost our greatest inventor"

Gyro looked at Fenton suprised, a blush creeping onto his cheeks

"You have the week off while we redo the lab, if there's any additions within reason, send a report to the office for approval. I have a meeting to attend but,"

He walked over to Gyro, putting a hand on his shoulder

"It's good to have you back, son" he said before leaving as Gyro stared in shock

"Wow.. adoptive son of the richest duck in the world" Fenton joked

"S-shut up" Gyro responded

"Nope. And you can't make me" Fenton teased

"I'll take away your Gizmosuit privileges." Gyro replied

Fenton faked a gasp. "How dare you! After saving your life too!"

"Oh please, we both know you wouldn't let me die." He replied

Fenton sighed knowing he lost. "You're right.."

"Of course I am."

Fenton looked up at Gyro before the nurse walked in.

"Visiting ends in 5 minutes" she said before walking out.

Fenton looked at Gyro as they made eye contact, Fenton smiling a little. "See you tommorow?" He asked

"Sure." Gyro responded

Fenton walked over to Gyro before giving him a mouth boop on the forehead and leaving Gyro a blushing mess.

Gyro layed back in bed staring gay ahead. Gyro thought about that kiss for the rest of the night.

[juniaships]

Loonatics Reboot: Origins

The cousins of the world-famous Looney Tunes, the Loonatics are resident protectors of the progressive city-state, Acmetropolis. Currently there are seven members headed by their mysterious mentor, but for now let's dive in deeper into the origin story of the first six Loonatics. We'll get to number seven in the future! 💛💛💛

The story goes, the Loonatics came about by chance. You see, not too long ago six individuals volunteered for an experiment conducted by the city's namesake ACME (the business). As all of them needed the extra cash, they didn't mind being used as temporary guinea pigs if it meant having the funds to pursue their dreams or pay the rent.

Unfortunately the test did not produced the expected results and was marked off as a failure. While the group were paid they were disappointed & went back to their normal lives.

Until abnormalities started cropping up.

One volunteer, a college freshman named Lexi Bunny, began hearing things, increased migraines, and physically cringing at even moderately loud sounds. Such condition affected the way she moved and grooved to the beat (she was an avid dancer) and one day, she had passed out from the pressure and sent to the emergency room. While she recovered she began seeing everything in a pink haze. Lexi didn't know exactly caused her health emergency but she had a feeling that it had something to do with the experiment. But she kept quiet, she wasn't one to stand up for herself, remembering a horrid incident trying out for her school's cheer squad. She wondered what the other volunteers were feeling...

The second volunteer was an Acmewood stunt artist named Ace Bunny (yeah yeah he's related to Bugs now let him train in peace). Whenever Ace felt particularly confident, he saw his vision turn red...literally. His eyes burned no matter how much ice or eyedrops he used. During rehearsals he started to notice how every time someone went to strike him, he dodged them every. Single. Time. Many of the crew members lucky to see were impressed, shocked even (much to the displeasure of the lead actor) & leaving the Looney cousin embarrassed at the increased attention.

The fourth volunteer was a scientist named Tech E Coyote. Like Duck he also lost his job though unlike Duck he was on the receiving end of an angry coworker. The poor man was left to craft consolation contraptions in the solitude of his workshop. One night he noticed some pieces of metal clinging to his lab-coat. At first he brushed them off but they stuck to his hands. He made a note to himself to use anti-static softener; but after several wash days the problems persisted and very soon larger pieces of metal started clinging to his clothes, hands, all around his body - one incident he knocked himself out with a frying pan! He also took notes of lights flickering around him, computers and screens turning on and off whenever he walked near them.

The third volunteer was a young man barely out of his teen years simply known as Duck. Danger Duck. He worked as a pool boy ironically had a hot temper. To put it best he loathed his job, feeling not being taken seriously by the oh-so-macho lifeguards that picked on him constantly. One minute he was complaining about his job, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a desert. Than back to the pool. Than an artic region! He also complained of tingling sensations in his fingers, as if he dumped his hands in a bowl of cut peppers. And after one particularly frustrating day, he got so made he raised his threw something at the lifeguard... something red-hot and round...which nearly costed the lifeguard his life yet ALSO caused Duck to lose his job.

Rev, a pizza delivery man with a sense of words and no sense of direction, was the onlt one whose problems weren't seen. Not at least externally. During his trips he was relieved to not miss addresses as much as he used to. Maybe a stroke of luck he guessed. But now it seems his brain was replaced by a GPS because days by he can verbally recite the location almost every place in Acmetropolis from the tallest skyscraper to the dingey of alleyways. Not even having to travel to these places.

As for Slam, his already phenomenal strength increased tenfold, and so did his speed. Such growth massively helped his wrestling career. Every time he spun however, he swore he felt and heard the crick-crackle-boom of lightning...which one day during a match he accidentally electrocuted his opponent, promptly suspended for the rest of the season. At least the guy was alive...a cooked steak but alive.

Eventually these side effects took their toll and the citizens finally had enough. Weeks after the test the group went back to Acme to report on what they were experiencing, hoping to get some compensation to pay off frequent trips to the hospital.

To their surprise ACME was pleased to hear the results of the experiment had been successful after all. The CEO, Otto Matthias, saw potential in the ragtag group of Tunes and offered them a deal: work for his company as sponsored superheroes. There was a mixed reaction: Tech was skeptical, as was Lexi and Slam. Ace didn't know what to think of the deal, he wanted to be recognized for his talents. Danger was the only one totally on board with the plan (no more finding lost trunks). Rev was also excited yet nervous at the prospect. Otto added that the offer came with free housing, access to any and all Acme products, and a lifetime supply of Scooby Snacks (much to Slam's fancy).

Duck didn't have to hear anymore before immediately agreeing to the deal. He did not want to go back to being a lowly pool boy or any other position to be laughed at and bullied, and saw the deal as a surefire way to success. The rest of the group & Scooby Snack Slam decided to wait a week before giving their answer. Acme signed Duck as Danger Duck, the Living Magma Extraordinaire! Cool name is it?

Throughout the week the remaining Tunes pondered long and hard about the company's offer. Would this deal really help them find meaning in their otherwise pitiful lives? Or was it all a glorified corporate tactic designed to keep them quiet? Danger Duck, Living Magma Extraordinaire seemed to be having a good time, so they might be missing out on a stable fulfilling lifestyle. Surely it wasn't an evil trick? Right? Right??

The answer to their dilemma showed uo at their door. Literally.

For five days, each person received a visit from a woman dressed in a simple lavender coat with the hood drawn up. From the shadows they could make out ruby-colored lips, yet her eyes seemed to lack irises as they were entirely blank-white.

This woman claimed that she was the creator of the drug and that is was not meant to be in mortal hands. She claimed that Acme stole her formula for personal gain, warning them the CEO was not who he seemed & that they shouldn't take his word. When the civilians asked about Danger Duck, the woman vowed she would do everything in her power to try to steer the young man from a terrible fate.

"How do you know I can trust you?" That was the sentiment shared by the five Tunes, in varying words.

The woman only smiled. "It's all up to you," she simply replied before handing out a shiny triangle with the familiar shield logo on it.

As each Tune took the metallic shape in their hands, they wondered how would this hunk ol metal help them decide their future? The lady's words echoed through their minds...maybe...the shield was a emblem of their roots. How did she know so much about them and so concerned about their lives?

By the morning of the last day, it was Ace who came to his decision first. "I'll believe you," he relented. "If only you'll tell me more about this drug you made."

The woman shook her head. "I'm afraid that'll have to come in a group meeting," she said a bit tersely. The truth is too much to bear on one man.

"Here." She scribbled a few words down on a piece of paper. "Meet me at this location later this afternoon. Don't bring anyone else."

"Okay," Ace said a bit skeptically. He was about to ask more but the lady quickly left with a hurried goodbye. Ace blinked his blue eyes before reading what she had wrote. "I hope this ain't gonna land me on a watchlist," he muttered before starting to prepare for his impromptu meeting. He prayed that he made the right choice.

I'm making this as I go along XD

My goal for this chapter and the next one is to give the team a better backstories and the why and HOW they got together. I know the show had an origin episode but it didn't show them their first mission or how they actually met, only how they got their powers. As this is a reboot there are a lot of changes so instead of being set in the future, it's set in modern era and they're cousins of the Looney Tunes. I'm also trying to give them motivations: Danger Duck seeking fame and fortune; Tech seeking recognition for his genius; Ace forging his own path out of his cousin's shadow. I haven't gotten to Slam & Lexi's motivations as much as that would be for when I get to writing Weathervane (who will be Lexi's foil) and Massive (Slam's foil). Rev's motivation will also be explored as him learning to be more independent away from his family's wealthy lifestyle. As for my OC Mikayla Jordan, she's going to appear in a future post pertaining to the Freleng Royal Family oop spoiled my own OC subplot XD

[nomadicauthor287]

Noir Murder Chapter 4

TW: PTSD

There was no daylight the next day, only rain. The proper setting for the mission that awaited them. Rex and Jesse reported into the station at first light to check-in for their shift. After their check-in and morning debrief they made their way to the Bad Batch’s building. When they arrived the morning debrief began.

“Tech, give us ideas on what we’re looking for”, Hunter groans. “Kix, Echo, and I examined the bodies further and found that the person who did this was skilled”, Tech reports.”We’re looking for someone with surgical skill or someone good with their hands”, Echo explains. “All the cuts were clean and done post mortem”, Kix says, “They didn’t hesitate”. “So we’re looking for a doctor”, Wrecker asks. “Most likely or someone with medical experience”, Kix informed. “Or a butcher”, Echo says, “they have similar skills except they don’t sew them back together”.

A shiver travels down the spines of the cops from Echo’s comment. They were not used to grisly murders like this in civilian life in Coruscant City. Although murders happen it was tame compared to the case at hand.

“What was the true cause of death?”Crosshairs asks. “Blunt force trauma to the head”, Kix informs. “I did a background check on all of the suspects and none of them have any medical background”, Echo informs. “But we found that a few were cooks”, Tech chimes, “meaning that a couple of them could have done it”.

“Shall we place our bets now?”, Kix asks. To that, the cop duo raises their brow as Tech flipped the chalkboard. The board was full of the names of suspects and motives in two columns. Tech was writing down the bets of Wrecker, Echo, and Kix. Wrecker placed a bet on the boyfriend with a motive of jealousy for 85 credits. Kix placed his bet on the Father with a motive of his daughter not earning enough money for 50 credits. Echo placed his bet on the director with a motive, a rebuffed affection for 35 credits. Eventually, Tech wrote his own bet on the board next to the author of the scripts/story for all the pictures the victim, Sonja Gardner, was in.

“So you all just bet on who the murderer is during a case”, Jesse asks exasperated. They all nod eagerly. “As I said, you Regs wouldn’t understand our ways”, Crosshairs quips. “Fine, then I place a bet on the manager with a motive of embezzlement for 55 credits”, Jesse bets. Rex just sighs and facepalms.

“Let's start interviewing suspects”, Rex orders. “You heard the sergeant, partner up and interview suspects,” Hunter orders. “Wait, we have an uneven number of people”, Jesse says, “shouldn’t you go with someone since the killer can follow any of us?” “I’m going to interview “The Fang” and Barlow alone”, Hunter said. The Bad Batch gave Rex and Jesse a look as Hunter suited up. “It’s best to let him deal with them alone”, Tech said, “they have a history”. Hunter’s hand hovered over his hat with a distinct look in his eye. There was a nostalgic glint in his eye with a slight smile as he thumbed the pocket watch in hand. “You have your assignments, get going”, Hunter orders gruffly as he suited up.

With the orders given they saluted and got ready for their individual assignments. Kix packed up his gear and left his bill as he walked out of the building. Rex was with Jesse, Echo with Tech, and Crosshairs with Wrecker. Each went their separate ways to interview 2 suspects.

Rex and Jesse went to interview the last director and reporter Sonja worked with. Jimmie West was one of the few people to leave the party first. They tracked him down to his office overlooking the studio in the backlot of the filming studio. “Is Mr. West in today?”, Jesse asks the secretary. The woman takes a long drag of her death stick and gets up from her seat. “Mr. West, some cops are here to see you”, she drones. The duo look at each other and walk into the room. Upon entering the room they see the director smoking cigars while reading scripts. “Gentlemen, you have 10 minutes”, he informs them. “Mr. West we’re with the Coruscanti Police department”, Rex introduced. “Yes”, the director dismisses, “and?” “I’m sure you heard about the murder of your star actress”, Jesse starts. “Of course I have. With her dead her pictures are playing like crazy but once the craze dies down I’ll need to replace her”, he exclaims in frustration. Jesse was starting to lose his temper. “Sir we just need to know what you were doing at the scene of the crime”, Rex sighs trying to steer the conversation back to the investigation. “I was at the party celebrating our latest picture together. Real nice broads were there with nice assets if you catch my drift”, he chuckles. Jesse snaps and slams his fists on the desk. “THOSE ARE PEOPLE YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT”, he yells in anger, “LIVING BREATHING PEOPLE THAT HAVE LIVES AND ARE NOT OBJECTS. PEOPLE CANNOT BE EASILY REPLACED!”. Rex has to hold him back and calm him down while the director straightens himself out after that scare. “Sir, we just want to know why you were there at Ms. Gardner’s home”, Rex asks. “Like I was saying we were celebrating her latest picture”, he explains with an exhausted tone, “The Empress of the Underworld”. “Was the Mob satisfied with her performance”, Jesse asks. Jimmie looked at him and took a deep breath. “The mob sent an ‘ambassador’ to train her for her performance”, he recounts, “he kept a close eye on her when he took her to ‘functions’”. “What kind of functions”, Rex questions while writing the director’s words so far. “Mob functions, what do you think? A soup kitchen?!? Sonja was the type of gal who wanted authenticity in her performances. She reached out to the mob and they sent Fang to guide her.” “So this Fang guy was real close to her?”Jesse asks. “Thick as thieves”, Jimmie responds as he puts the cigar back in his mouth. “What time did you leave the night of the incident?”, Rex asks. “Around about 11 in the evening”, Jimmie responds. “Thank you for your time Mr. West”, Jesse thanks, “apologies for giving you a scare earlier”. “It’s fine but if you’d like, take my card if you want. You two would be great actors in my next picture!” he smiles. The duo took their leave after his statement and went back to the diner to wait for the others.

Elsewhere Wrecker and Crosshair were sitting in a tense silence in the presence of Lloyd Gardner and Don Powell. Lloyd was Sonja’s father and Don Powell was her agent. They took her death seriously because they both loved her. In the wake of her death they looked to each other for comfort.

Crosshair took charge and decided to break the silence while Wrecker was helping himself to tiny sandwiches. “I see you both fought in the war”, Crosshair says pointing at the medals on the wall. “Yeah, I was, I mean we were in the army together”, Lloyd answers quietly. “We were too”, Crosshair replies. “Sniper, I take it?”Don asks. “What gave it away?” Crosshair chuckles. “Posture”, Don says “straight and tall as if you’re looking for a great shot”. “Sounds like you speak from experience”, Crosshair snips. “Call it experience”, Don says coolly, offering them a cigarette. “So where were you when his daughter was murdered?” Crosshair asks. “We were in the lounge celebrating,” Don answers. “No we weren't,” Lloyd said all too quickly. Don gives him a warning look. “Why are you lying?” Wrecker asks with his mouth full. “Donnie, I don’t wanna lie anymore. I wasn’t there and my daughter is dead!” Lloyd yells. Before Don could protest Lloyd told the two where they were. “That night I was with Don and we were in the library.”, Lloyd says, “I’m a homosexual”. “I knew I had a classy chassis but this is new” Crosshair says cockily. Don wraps an arm around Lloyd. “He’s my husband,” Don growls. “Congrats on your marriage!” Wrecker cheers. “You’re not disgusted by us”, Don asks with a shocked expression. “Why would we be disgusted? It’s your life, do what you want” Crosshair says as he gets up from his seat. “No, we got your statement and that’s all we need. We just want to bring justice to your daughter’s death” Wrecker says “I mean who are we to judge on your love life”. The two took their leave to allow the couple to grieve over the death of their daughter.

Tech and Echo were back at the scene of the crime to interview the maid, Luisa Fernan. “I told you time and time again Señor, I was in the kitchen cleaning. Ask Señor Gardner or Señor West. I was cleaning the kitchen towards the end of the party and then left. Señor Medina was the last one to leave.” Luisa explains while putting the laundry on the clothesline. “Mr. Medina as in Willard Media, the screenwriter?”Tech asks. Sí Señor’ she responds. “What was he doing here so late?”Echo asks. “No sé señor”, Luisa responds with a snippy tone. If one didn’t know any better they would think she and Crosshair were related. “Gracias señora. Estaremos en camino ahora. Que tenga un lindo día”, Tech acknowledges. “Looks like Willard Medina is our prime suspect now”, Echo says as they walked back to their car until the car exploded. Echo tackles Tech and tells him to radio for air support to bomb the enemy. The explosion brought him back to his time in the war. Tech was trying his best to pull him out of his shell shock. “ECHO YOU’RE HOME! YOU’RE HOME!”, Tech yells trying to hold him down. It takes Echo a few minutes to realize that he was home and not in that horrid lab. “We need to call Hunter and the others”, Tech says. “We’ll call them later. Right now we need to get Willard Medina’s statement. I’m changing my bet to Willard, Oz.” Echo growls. Tech knew there was no stopping him so he nods and gets up to wave down a taxi.

Hunter stuck to the shadows of an alleyway following Victor Barlow. Victor knew someone was following him and took his time carrying the shipment into the building. “Been a while Hunter”, he says putting the box down. “Perceptive as ever Victor”, Hunter says. “Well your ears get pretty sharp when things go bump in the night Hunter” he jests “you of all people should know that”. “Still the spy as ever Vic”, Hunter chuckles until his tone turns sorrowful. “I’m sorry about Sonja. From what I gathered she was a real nice gal”. “She was and I was gonna ask her to marry me. How stupid of me to be working the night she died”, he whispers. Hunter puts a hand on his back and hands him his canteen full of water. “You should take some time off Vic” Hunter suggests. “No, I can’t Seth. If I do I don’t know what I’d do with myself” Victor weeps. “I’m gonna put you up with Stella, she’ll take care of you until this whole thing is over” Hunter says. “Just catch the bastard who did this to her” Victor growls. “I will”

Back at the diner Rex, Jesse, Wrecker, and Crosshair were called back to the mansion because of the explosion. “What the hell happened?” Rex demands. “Car bomb from the looks of it”, one of the Regs informs him. “Where’s Tech and Echo?” Jesse asks. “They took a taxi to the studio to interview the screenwriter,” Cody says, walking up to the others. “Tech call and give a heads up?” Wrecker asks while taking out his flask. “Yes, he said to head back to the office and write your information on paper and leave it on his desk”, Cody informs. “You got things from here?” Rex asks. “Sure do”, Cody nods.

Once Tech and Echo arrived at the studio they were immediately stopped by security. Neither of them had badges so they were told to leave the premises because the guards thought they were the paparazzi. So they snuck in through the back near the warehouses. “This is a delicate operation”, Tech whispers, trying to pick the lock on the door. That was until Echo kicked the door down. “You’re taking too long”, Echo huffs as he walks into the studio. They track down Willard Medina’s office.

They knock on the door and a quiet voice says for them to come in. When they walked in they saw a timid man typing away on his typewriter. “M-may I help you gentlemen”, Willard asks timidly. “We’re just investigating the murder of Sonja Gardner, sir”, Tech informs them. Echo looked around the room and noticed bottles of painkillers and a cane at Willard’s side. “Something happen to your leg” Echo asks. “It was just one of those days where y-you forget and slip on a banana peel”, he chuckles lightly. Echo nods like he understood but he didn’t. Tech on the other hand was noting down every detail in the room. There were many photos of Sonja and him at the premiere with the red carpets. “So why did you leave the party late on the night of the murder” Echo questions. “I left late because Sonja and I were discussing what to do for our next picture. Usually, we discuss what she wants to do since I write off of her ideas.” Willard explains. “So when did you end up leaving?” Echo asks sharply. “I said we were having a brainstorming session,” Willard pipes. “Luisa said she left before you did and it was strange you left so late according to her” Tech informs. “We lost track of time as you do when you’re having fun” he says nervously. “How close were you to her?” Tech interrogates. “Very close” he recounts “we were thick as thieves”. Tech gives Echo a look signalling it was time to leave. “Thank you for your statement Mr. Medina”, Echo thanks as he makes his ways back to the door. Tech takes one last look around the room before nodding goodbye. Once out of earshot and in private back to the main road Tech said that Willard was lying. “All of those pictures say that they weren’t ‘thick as thieves'. Sonja had little to no pictures of him in her home yet he has a lot of pictures of her in his office”. “You have a point but why would he kill her?” Echo thought aloud while he waved down a taxi. “Let’s list the possibilities,” Tech says as they get into a taxi.

When all of them were back at the office they all compared their findings until the phone rang. It was Stella and she needed help. At that point, they all needed help.

@soundwavetherav @eyecandyeoz @kratosfan6632466 @itsjml

[willymywonkers]

A Trip into the Factory

Summary: Maude gets invited into the factory for the first time in years. Chaos and fluff ensues.

A/N: This really is an excuse for me to try and write Wonka a little better. It's not too great I'll admit that, but I'm still getting used to writing him, lmaoooo.

It was a typical Tuesday afternoon for Maude, which mainly included grading assignments and checking over the kids work.

However, there was one thing different about this Tuesday. Charlie invited her over to the factory for dinner.

Usually she'd be happy to visit the Buckets, the only set back here was actually going into the factory.

Ever since Wonka and her reunited, things had been a little rocky. Maude was always busy with her students, and tried to creating some order in her schedule. Will was busy mentoring Charlie around the factory. There wasn't any time for them to really connect.

"Sure, I think she would thoroughly enjoy the factory, heh." Willy said, trying very hard to seem confident.

"And, when you're done, we can have dinner with my family." Charlie smiled with excitement.

"Yeah." Will gulped, slightly.

This was one of Willy Wonka's rare moments where he was uncertain. Usually, he knew exactly how people would react when entering the factory, but Maude was a different story. She helped sculpt every room when it was first built.

Willy had planned on asking Maude to move in with him before she got married. Being business partners was one thing, but being actually together was another. He knew from the start on why he didn't like her husband. Even during the wedding, Willy tried to be supportive of her. Hell, he even made especially for her a dozen chocolate roses. His feelings for her never really went away. He just wanted her to be happy.

After being isolated from the world for over 15 years, it really took a toll on how he interacted with others.

Meanwhile, Maude was dealing with her own worries. She looked at herself in the mirror, constantly overthinking.

She needed to leave in about 30 minutes, and that wasn't enough time either. Maude rummaged through her closet desperately searching for something to wear. Eventually, she found a brown dress that was casual enough to wear without looking completely overdressed.

She slipped on some heels and grabbed her coat before heading out the door. She was lucky the factory was walking distance from her house, but when the gates opened, she was extremely hesitant to go inside.

'Come on, Maude. Don't be pathetic.' She thought as her hand was just inches away from the door.

She bit her lip, tapping her gloved fist against the cold steel door.

Suddenly, there was a click and the door swung open. Maude stepped back, surprised a little at the sudden opening of the door.

Wonka stood just a little bit outside the door. He smiled, greeting Maude at the door.

"Heh, welcome, Maude." Will flashed a big smile at her.

She smiled back, taking off her coat. "It's quite warm in here, Will."

"Ah yes. It's because of my oompa loompas. They just can't stand the cold."

Maude tilted her head at Will. "Right, and what are oompa loompas again?"

Charlie had told her about these 'oompa loompas' but she wasn't entirely sure about what they are.

"Oh, well, they're my workers. They were directly imported from Loopmaland." Will explained as the two walked down the large hall.

"Loopmaland? I've never heard of that place before." Maude seemed to look even more confused.

"Well, I discovered it while I was searching the world of exotic candy." Will hummed.

Maude couldn't help, but be amazed at the amount of things Will had done throughout the years. Maude felt that she didn't really accomplish anything. After she left Ron, she mostly did boring adult stuff. When she worked in the factory, Maude felt unique and carefree. Will would listen to all her ideas for different kinds of mixtures. She remembered a time where she felt happy being in the factory, because it almost was a sanctuary to her.

The hallway began to get slimmer and slimmer. Soon enough Maude and Willy crouched down to get to the very small door at the end of the hallway.

"I don't remember the chocolate room being this small." Maude joked, trying not to hit her head on the suddenly short ceiling.

Willy shook his head. "It's not. Just watch."

Just as he turned the key, a whole world was opened up for Maude. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted at the view.

It was meadows of gorgeous green grass, and luscious chocolate river that flowed throughout the factory.

There was buttercups at her feet, and a jelly pumpkin on her right.

Maude felt overwhelmed with joy. "You did all this?" Her voice was below a whisper.

Willy smiled wide. "Yeah, I did."

Maude turned to Willy, smiling dreamily at him. "Wow.." Her body suddenly when limp, as she passed out in a sudden trance.

Willy panicked, catching her before she hit the ground. "Maude? Maude!!"

She snapped out of her trance. "Yes? Yes! I'm awake."

Will took a deep breath. "Heh, good. I was worried that I killed ya there."

Maude chuckled, blushing slightly by the way Wonka was holding her.

Wonka seemed to noticed it too. He cleared his throat. "Well, let's get a move on. There's lots of things I wanna show you."

He set Maude back down on her feet. She chuckled nervously, still amazed at the view.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of low drumming. A purple sea horse shaped boat pulled up right next to Willy and Maude.

"Hop on board!" Willy stepped onto the boat, with Maude following behind.

The Oompa Loompas seemed to be chattering amongst themselves and chuckling.

"What are they laughing about?" Maude chuckled.

He laughed nervously. "Surely, it's from all those doggone coca beans. They're a bit of a handful."

Maude smiled. "They seem quite lovely. I think I got a report from Charlie, talking about living with the Oompa Loompas. It was incredibly-"

"Weird?" Willy interrupted.

"Yeah, but, a good kind of weird." Maude chuckled. "You're a great mentor."

Willy's smile faltered slightly. "Well, I have to get him prepared to run this factory. There's not a lot of people I could trust to hold the secret recipes, and keep them secret."

"Right."

"I guess the only other person would be you."

Maude's expression shifted from happiness to a bit of sadness. She attempted to smile. "Thank you, Will."

She stared blankly for a few seconds. She began to remember Ron's horrid yelling.

"You'll always be in his shadow, Maude. Don't you want your own factory? He stole most of your ideas, Maude. A few of his would be nothing."

Maude would always refuse to steal from Will. Ron would call her a coward. Still, this torment would go on for hours, until she resigned.

The boat began to diverge into a dark tunnel. Maude's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the Oompa Loompas drumming as it began to get faster and faster.

"Can they see where they're going?" Maude said, as she turned to Willy.

"Hehe, no." Will chuckled. "There's no telling where they're going."

Maude's face turned pale as she held on to the side of the boat.

The boat suddenly took sharp dive right into the tunnel. The boat looped and turned as chocolate splashed its sides. Maude suddenly had her arms around Wonka's, holding onto dear life. Will looked over at her a little surprised. In most situations, Will despised human contact. Here, he was just amused. Even when he was a little boy, he hates when adults touched his hair, or even when they lightly tapped his shoulder. However, he was very loose when it came to Maude. She didn't appreciate close contact either, but in very few moments, Maude would casually touch his hand accidentally. She would always say sorry, but it was strange because Will didn't mind it. It was an odd connection between the two. They really just couldn't explain it.

Maude was still holding onto Will as the boat came to a stop. She sighed in relief, but quickly let go of Will.

"Sorry." Maude muttered.

Will gulped. "No matter. Let's continue."

The boat had stopped in front of the experimentation room, a place where Maude was quite familiar with.

"The experiments room. I'm pretty sure you know this one, heh." Will said, hoping off the boat.

Maude looked around, admiring the enormous amounts of lab equipment, as well as different kinds of experiments. "Oh, wow. It's gotten quite modernized."

"You're darn right. I've testing out a ton of new candy, but sometimes it's so hard to focus on one." Willy turned towards a big machine. He turned it on and out came a single stick of gum.

"This piece, right here, is a full 3 course dinner all in itself."

Maude picked up the stick of gum, and simply looked at it.

"I wouldn't eat it. There's still a few things wrong with the mixture."

"I see, and what seems to be wrong with it." Maude carefully set the stick back down.

"Well, it's ok, once it gets to the end. It's the blueberry pie that does it. I've tried it on like 20 Oompa Loompas, and each one ended up like a giant blueberry."

"Do you think it's because you made the mixture of the pie too strong?" Maude examined the sample closely, just before sticking it in her mouth.

"Yeah, well." Will's eyes widened as she stuck the gum in her mouth. "Just spit it out once it gets too sweet."

The flavors were very incredible, however it didn't mask the faint blueberry aftertaste that plagued each flavor. Once it got a but too sweet, she immediately spat it out.

Will looked at her with a bit of disgust. He kept a bit of a distance from her. After a few moments, nothing happened.

"I think I know the problem. The blueberry pie mixture is too strong. It masks all the other flavors with a sweet aftertaste." Maude put the gum in the nearest trash can. "If you eliminate that strong aftertaste, then I believe the gum should be just fine."

Willy's expression turned from disgust to ecstatic in a matter of seconds. He grabbed Maude by the hand, and shook it vigorously. "Maude, you're a genius. Absolutely incredible. I don't get why I didn't think of that sooner."

Maude smiled slightly. "This is just like old times. Remember when we were experimenting with those fizzy lifting bubbles? We flew so high. We almost lost our heads."

"Yeah, haha. I remember." Will nodded, still holding onto Maude's hand.

"I remember Ron being so worried." Maude laughed.

Willy's smile soon faded. "Yeah, him."

Hearing that name again really made Will's blood boil. He had an idea what was happening with Maude and Ron. Will had really hoped Maude would choose candy making over Ron, because that's what made her happy.

His gloved hand had a tight hold on Maude's. "It's really weird, heh."

"What is?" Maude asked.

"Being here with you. I just would've figured you'd always be with me, making candy in the factory."

"Well, I'm here right now."

"That's not what I mean."

Maude tilted her head up at him, a little confused. They looking into each other's eyes for a moment. His gorgeous purple eyes burrow deep into her dark chocolate ones.

He leaned in, giving Maude a tiny peck on the lips. It was quick and painless. Still, it made Maude go red as a cherry.

Willy giggled, wiping the tiny kiss off his lips.

"W-wow.." Maude muttered. "That was unexpected." She blinked for a few moments, promptly pinching herself, before even realizing what had happened.

"Heh, I've always wanted to try that." Will said, smiling wide. "Kissing is so weird."

"But it's a good kind of weird." Maude chuckled, as she pulled Will into another kiss.

This was so much better than she could've imagined.

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 1 - 18.98Hz

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Note: This is my Leon fic!!!!! Originally posted on Archive of Our Own.

URL here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/25631500/chapters/62219596

Summary: 

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural. 

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal. 

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen 

Warnings: None! But dis fic be scary sometimes

18.98 Hertz

...

...

[18.98hz is the infrasonic signal reported to be responsible for ghost sightings]

...

...

Deep within the woodlands of the Wild Area, an abandoned manor sits undisturbed inside a secluded maze of overgrown fauna.

Rumoured to have been built during the eighteen hundreds, the architecture is undoubtedly Georgian, with a single door erected in the middle of the house and two rows of symmetrical, large windows. A proud Duke had built the impressive home for a beautiful princess he had fallen in love with. Unfortunately, a happy ending eluded the Duke as the princess was subsequently married off to another suitor and the Duke wasted away from a broken heart.

With no true owner, the house has been passed back and forth throughout several generations and archives reveal that the last recorded occupants dated back to the fifties - a young couple with small children - and they had stayed no longer than three months.

The family had been experiencing strange phenomena; they were plagued by eerie wailing noises, laughter and the sounds of footsteps in the empty hallways at night. The couple would often see apparitions in empty rooms. The youngest child developed an imaginary friend, described as a creature with the head of a boar.

One night, the couple were seen hurriedly fleeing the premises in the middle of the night in their nightclothes, dragging their children in tow and vowing never to return.

To this date, no occupant dwells within.

As the years passed, the manor fell further into ruin and disarray. With no human upkeep, it soon faded away from existence and hidden from the public. The stories soon dissolved into nothing but the stuff of legends.

No traveller would ever stumble upon this splendid home until a group of gym challengers travelling together on their Rotom bikes would spot the small glint of light a distance away.

It's night and the weather is dreary. They are strapping, young men and they look fearless, having braved through many hardships and difficult situations with each other and their Pokemon alike.

Tonight, they are hungry and exhausted from their long hours spent travelling and desperately seek shelter. Little do they know that a scene from a horror novel is in the making.

Heading towards the direction of the light in the distance, the three young men would eventually discover a beaten path that leads them to a foreboding manor. The boys are stunned at first and exchange glances of bafflement.

Every light of the building is on and shadows dance around in a window or two.

They cannot believe their good luck - what are their chances of stumbling across a house in the middle of the wilderness?

With the increasing torrential downpour and the weariness growing in their bones, the group pedal up to the door, lay down their bikes and knock on the rusted wood. They are hoping the occupants can grant them sanctuary for the remainder of the night. They had come across many kind individuals during their travels and have been offered gifts or generous hospitality. As they wait, they chat animatedly to each other about their adventures, laughing and smiling.

The door opens for them an inch or so as though beckoning them inside but no-one appears at the doorway.

Although they are confused, one of the gym challengers slowly pushes open the door and takes a cautious step.

"H-hello?" he calls as he glances around, "Anyone here?"

He is greeted by a long stretch of corridor with a single door at the far end. It's ajar and the light is on. Muffled voices can be heard emitting from within. His friends peer over his shoulders, intrigued.

"...Um, hello?" he calls again, a little louder than before, and he crosses the threshold.

His companions don't follow, seemingly having lost their nerve. Instead, they encourage their representative to enter the establishment further on their behalf. The sensation of unease and trepidation has suddenly made its presence known in the depth of their guts.

However, this young gym challenger is brave and for the sake of his friends, he enters. He steps through the corridor and arrives at the door, opening it with a shaking hand.

The door creaks loudly, dust falling off above and onto his head. He slides inside the room and sees it is an empty room, devoid of furniture and appears to be unused for many years. There is no indication of anyone living here and immediately, a shiver runs down his spine when he realises he is not alone.

The temperature in the room becomes frighteningly cold, the hairs of the back of his neck suddenly stand on end and his heartbeat speeds up.

In the corner of his eye, he senses someone or something.

He's too frightened to look but he forces himself to turn, his body stiff. An old man stands rigidly in one corner of the room furthest away from him, facing the wall. This strange figure is pallid and gaunt, donned in a haggard, grey robe that ends at the knees.

Unsure what to do, the boy ends up cautiously takes a step forward. It is human nature to be drawn to the unknown.

He takes a baby step forward. His feet feel heavy with each step. Slowly, he approaches.

"Um....mister?"

There is no response.

"Are you....are you okay?"

He reaches a shaking hand towards the figure and finally the old man turns, revealing a grotesque and demonic visage, a face with dark empty sockets and a horrid gaping mouth. An ear-splitting and unearthly shriek erupts from all four corners of the room and the boy stumbles backwards in fright and spins on his heel with a scream.

He runs, terrified for his life. The harrowing, agonising screams follow him out.

...

In the lush conservatory, your guest sits opposite you in the pristine white sofa with a cup of tea in shaking hand as he bravely recounts his horrific tale of the mysterious house deep in the woods of the Wild Area. He stops, unable to continue and unable to further describe the terror of that night which had effectively taken place three days ago.

Whilst Cutiefly buzzes around the plants, Polteageist sits on the table and helps refill your cup whilst you take notes. You thank your pokemon before briefly musing to yourself that Polteageist's tea is far superior than any other tea you've ever had and you wonder if there may as well be a coffee pokemon out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered.

"I-I know it doesn't sound like much but it was terrifying," he mutters, "And it wasn't a pokemon, either."

"It's too early to say, but I'll look into this for you."

"Y-you believe me?"

"Yes, I do."

The boy looks stunned at your response then morosely lowers his gaze to his lap; his eyes are sunken in, his face ashen and peaky. He has not slept well since the ordeal.

"Thank you for believing me. Nobody else did," he murmurs with a sigh of clandestine relief as he holds his clenched fist over his chest.

Your fingers tense under the gratitude, gripping the handle of your cup so tightly your knuckles turn white, but a fraction of a second later and you gradually relax and you smile. "No problem, leave it to me."

"Do you want me to take you there? I-I'm not sure if I can find it again though..."

"No need," you say, "I'll look for it myself."

After exchanging a few more words with your client, you leave the conservatory and escort him to the exit; he spots an old woman donned in a white lab coat sitting at the round table in the kitchen, helping herself to a slice of buttered toast. He recognises her as Galar's famed Pokemon Professor so he greets her politely and she responds in the same manner.

Before your client leaves, he thanks you again for listening and believing in his story when many others did not and you reassure him once more that you will get to the bottom of this; Polteageist and Cutiefly float beside you and wave as your guest departs.

Closing the door gently, you return to the conservatory to clean up and pick up your notes, then head to the kitchen where Professor Magnolia is now brewing herself a cup of tea with a paper in front of her. Upon your arrival, she looks up from her reading material. "Was that a new lead, dear?"

"Possibly. Don't leave any dinner for me, I'm heading out now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'll be back tomorrow morning, professor."

She nods, "Very well. Be safe, dear."

With Cutiefly and Polteageist beside you, you leave the kitchen and head up the stairs to your room.

Sonia is sitting at her vanity table with her back to you, carefully covering her nails with a new coat of seafoam-green nail polish that matches the shade of her eyes whilst her Yamper lies curled in its basket, snoozing away with a chew toy under its paw. When she sees you entering the room from the mirror, she spins round in her seat immediately to face you.

"How did it go?" She greets you cheerfully as you stride to your side of the room.

"It was okay, kinda typical. There was a derelict house, ghost lights and a frightening apparition of a very unfriendly old man."

She shivers all over. "That sounds horrid..."

"Sounds like my cup of tea. Isn't that right, Polteageist?" you reply with a grin. Whilst Sonia groans inwardly at your joke, Polteageist nods and spins happily around in his teapot in response.

"What are you going to do?" she asks, holding her hand up and blowing on her nails.

"I'm heading out now to check it out."

"Now??"

"Yep."

Sonia watches with widened eyes as you begin to prepare.

"Right! I'll need my bag, a few pokedolls, some Dusk Balls, my coat and radio. Poltea, let's get cracking."

Polteageist nods, punches at the air with his little fists and floats over to the desk to grab some lightweight items for you.

You share a room with Sonia; it's large enough to be divided into two. The division of the room is reminiscent of yin and yang. Whereas Sonia's section is a colourful, girlish paradise, yours is dull, gloomy, plain and lacklustre in every aspect. Your blinds are perpetually drawn, your walls devoid of any poster or print, your furniture basic and simple. Honestly, you don't spend enough time in the house to bother with decorations and only focus on the necessities.

You open your closet and begin changing out of your normal, everyday clothes and into a warmer shirt, trousers and a clean pair of socks before you pick up your trusty backpack which you keep propped up against the wall. Opening it, you begin packing your tools and various gear, grabbing them off your desk and tossing them inside. The only thing that does not properly fit is your sleeping bag which you keep rolled up and attach it to one side of your bag using a buckled strap.

Once her nails are dry, Sonia quickly gets up from her seat, leaves the room and promptly returns with a few snacks consisting of peanut butter protein bars, dried fruit mix and some Moomoo cheese that should help last you the entire night. "Here, take these."

"Thanks, Sonnie."

"I worry about you," Sonia says with a sigh as she returns to sit down and Cutiefly nestles in her hair and nuzzles the side of her cheek, "You're always leaving in the evening and coming home at dawn..."

"Can't help it, Sonnie. You know what it's like." You finally finish packing and stand up, donning your coat first before you pull the straps of your bag firmly over your shoulders. The last item you reach for is your pocket radio which Sonia eyes with concern.

"Be careful! And call us if anything comes up, okay? Well, maybe not Gran because she goes to bed at nine...but I'll still be up!"

You flash her a wide grin in response, "I'll be fine, Son. Wish me luck!"

"Good luck!"

You both exchange a hug before Cutiefly and Polteageist hover over to you and you pat them affectionately. "I'll be back soon. Be good," you say when they look at you sadly; you lean forwards and peck them over the top of their heads. Heading to the door, you turn to Sonia once more and throw your arms in the air. "Now I bid you, adieu."

Sonia giggles, twirling a curl of her hair with her finger whilst Polteageist waves sadly and Cutiefly loops in the air. You hurriedly dash out of the room, sprinting down the stairs and waving to Magnolia before you shove your feet into your hiking boots. You breeze out the house, heading towards the direction of the train station that will take you to the Wild Area. Checking your wristwatch, there should be a train arriving in ten minutes.

It's getting late, the sky is turning dark and people are on their way home but your day is just starting.

You are a Pokemon Researcher, specialising in the ghost type. You study the supernatural and the paranormal so naturally your work mostly begins at night. You have had clients who share with you stories of the weird and wonderful, the bizarre and downright strange and you've dedicated yourself in studying these mysterious and often terrifying occurrences. Galar is rich with supernatural lore and tales from the crypt so all in all, it's very exciting to be here.

Your new client and his horrific story is nothing new - it's probably a ghost Pokemon pulling the strings.

Having moved to Galar from Kalos, Magnolia and Sonia have been so good to you when you knew no-one and had no other place to go. They have taken you under their wing and they worry about you a lot usually because you leave at late evening or night, return at the ass crack of dawn and spend the majority of the day sleeping but this is a cycle you've grown accustomed to before you moved. Your body clock has completely adjusted. You're nocturnal.

You arrive at Wedgehurst station and go through the ticket barriers with your monthly pass in hand, surprised to see that the station is far busy today compared to usual.

Normally at this time, it's empty and quiet and the passengers are weary workers who are departing from their jobs in Wedgehurst to return home but on this occasion, you see far more individuals than you would have liked and you're forced to queue.

Nevertheless, you plug in your earphones, choose one of your favourite songs and bring out your journal to go over your notes you took down when you were speaking with the client.

When the train arrives, the increased number of passengers means you don't easily find a seat compared to other days as the commuters bumble in and out and the seats begin to slowly fill up. You look left and right and luckily, you find an empty seat just two rows ahead. You do hold back at first, wondering if there are any elderly citizens in the same carriage but after glancing around curiously, there are no old folk and no-one is interested in taking the seat.

You may as well sit down.

You end up squashed between a middle-aged woman who is busy knitting a green scarf with a Rowlet's face on it and on your left is a young guy dressed in white sweats with the hood pulled up and wrapped tightly around his head. A black cap has also been expertly placed to cover his face. He sits with his arms crossed over his chest, slouching to the side and quite possibly asleep.

Luckily, the next stop is the Meetup Spot of the Wild Area so you don't need to sit for too long.

A Charizard stands in front of you, holding onto one of the pivoted grab handles that dangle from the ceiling with a sticker slapped over his scaly chest that says 'World's Best Charizard'.

The doors of the carriage soon close and the train leaves the station, chugging down the tracks; during the brief journey, you and Sonia message each other before she goes downstairs for dinner so you leave her be to enjoy her meal. You use your notebook to occupy yourself and go through your notes and diagrams once again.

Your drawing skills are amateur but you've briefly sketched the house and drawn the horrific, ghostly man according to the boy's testimony and you spend some time studying your drawings until you hear Charizard let out an audible snort of curiosity and you look up.

He's looking at your notepad, at your diagrams, and you grin, "Oh? Are you interested?"

He nods.

It's not always you get the chance to talk to someone or a pokemon about your line of work because you're mostly met with skepticism or derisiveness. Therefore you find your grin widening and you excitedly gesture to the house. "There's a house in the Wild Area rumoured to be haunted. I'm heading there right now to take a look."

Charizard looks a little disturbed at your revelation and points a claw to the drawing of the old man and glances at you.

"That's a ghost."

His reptilian eyes widen thoroughly.

"I'm on the case. I'm a pokemon researcher, see?" You pull your badge out from your left pocket of your coat to show him and he scrutinises it intensely, "I'll get to the bottom of this and - "

You halt midway when the man on your left suddenly lets out a muffled groan and begins to lean against your shoulder with a tad more force than usual and you stiffen in your seat.

It's probably on accident and everyone else doesn't seem to notice; they're sitting with their pokemon or their eyes are glued onto their Rotom phones; everyone's too busy to notice so you inconspicuously use your shoulder to nudge him away and he returns to his normal spot. You inwardly breathe a sigh of relief until he slumps against you once more, groaning slightly. Even though he has a hat covering his face, underneath the fabric and you can feel his nose pressing against your neck and you tense up.

The train annoy announces that you're almost at your destination but you remember the wise words of Magnolia. She warned you to be careful when you're on the train at night, especially when you are on your own. Whilst you wonder if you are possibly sitting beside a pervert who is pretending to be asleep so he can act like he is nodding off and accidentally 'slumping' or 'bumping' against you, the Charizard helps you out by curling his claw and prodding at the young man firmly.

"Huh? What?" The sleepy young man finally retreats from you and you hear him mutter groggily, half-asleep.

Strange, his voice sounds familiar.

The tannoy sounds off once again: "We have now arrived at the Meetup Spot, Wild Area."

You're at your destination regardless so you quickly stand up and head to the doors with a few others as the train slowly rolls to a stop. Behind you, you hear the man waking up.

"Charizard, are we here?" he asks. Charizard lets out a low bellow and he exclaims, "Great! Let's go!"

As you step off the platform and begin to exit the station with the others, the young man breezes past you with Charizard at his heels, slotting his ticket into the machine and charging through the turnstile. Whilst you wonder what his rush is, it's then you see the long slither of purple hair cascading out of his cap in waves over his shoulders and it occurs to you that you had been sitting beside the Champion of Galar on the train the entire time.

Your eyes grow wide.

Charizard really should've been the first clue.

You leave the station dumbfounded as you contemplate this.

You don't know much about the Champion. The only information you know is the same stuff as any fan would know because you only used a quiz from a magazine to enrich your knowledge on him. You know his name is Leon, he is extremely handsome and nice, he has a Charizard, he is unbeatable, he has been the Champion for roughly ten years and he lives in Postwick. That's pretty much it.

In fact, your knowledge on modern affairs is so atrocious that you do often reprimand yourself that you should pay far more attention to the news and world affairs but your research took up a lot of your time and it didn't help that you were essentially a night owl. Regardless, Magnolia and Sonia knew him and he's been to the lab on a few occasions but needless to say, you were never there and more often than not, you were always fast asleep when he popped by.

You weren't engaged with or interested in the Pokemon League or the Championship anyway.

You had more important things to focus on, such as your studies.

The house is your priority now so you put away your music, take out your Rotom phone, turn on the GPS function and whip out your flashlight which you will use once you're on the path.

The Meetup Spot is a rendezvous point with only one or two friendly Watt Traders dressed in the most snazzy outfits you had ever laid eyes on and there is also a nice lady who can heal gym challenger's Pokemon essentially at no cost. You don't see the Champion or Charizard anywhere so you figured he must have headed towards the Wild Area already. You wonder why he is here and why he was keeping a low profile considering people are used to seeing him in his cape and champion uniform.

Standing at the summit, it grants you a fantastic view of the entire Wild Area which would've been more discernible if you were here during daylight hours. At night, all you can see is a massive and dark expanse with a few orangey blobs in the distance indicating a camp site or whatnot. There's not many. People don't like travelling at this hour.

You're going to be in there all night.

You spare a quick glance at your notes again. The group were travelling through the Rolling Fields and had apparently taken a shortcut past the Dappled Grove. They passed a pokemon den and a Pangoro who was sleeping near the lake. You are going to assume they mean West Lake Axewell. That doesn't give you much to work with but it's given you a good indicator as to what direction you should begin your search and furthermore the Rolling Fields isn't too much of a trek from the Meetup Spot.

You set off at once with your flashlight, wandering down the path that is outlined by tall trees. To a lost and tired traveller, the Wild Area can be frightening when it is dark but you're rather used to the paths and you've travelled extensively so you are rather familiar with the area.

Along the way, you jot down points of interest and mark your progress as you venture further. You see Hoothoots and Noctowls perched in the trees, cooing and watching you. A few Oddish scamper around, accompanied by some Spinaraks. They all hide when you approach.

As the night wears on and the hours pass, you wander aimlessly down the path yet find no trace of the house and you also don't see anyone along the way. That's how alone you truly are. You're halfway through the Fields when the trees to your left suddenly bustle and shake violently and you stop in your path and shine the flashlight, just to see a Hoothoot popping out from the branches, hooting loudly with glee.

It has a pile of clothes gripped in its one claw and you stare in confusion as to where it got the clothes from until two or three seconds later and a figure comes charging out of the trees, emerging from the same spot as Hoothoot.

Unable to stop himself in time when he spots you in the path, he smacks into you and you both go tumbling. It happens so quickly you are knocked off your feet before you can yell out and your back hits the cold and hard ground.

Whoever it is, he lands on top of you, his broad chest crushing the air out of your lungs. The impact is so strong your mind reels for a moment or so but you manage to shine your flashlight at the man and you see a pair of golden eyes staring back at you and you gape with shock.

It's Leon, and he looks as startled as you are as you both gawk at each other before he quickly scrambles off you and moves to stand, spluttering a string of apologies. You cannot believe your eyes; you have encountered the Champion twice in a day.

You see that he is damp and naked, save for the white towel wrapped around his hips which is threatening to fall off. He mutters a string of apologies whilst you merely stare with widened eyes.

Haunted house - zero. Wet, naked guy - one.

"Sorry!" He exclaims, sticking a hand out to you but you are so stunned by his presence you can only gape. Oblivious to your staring, he proceeds to explain his predicament, "Sorry, I...uh, a Hoothoot stole my clothes when I was taking a bath and I chased him out here. Are you...are you okay?"

Leon doesn't owe you any explanations yet he stands sheepishly before you, his cheeks stained with pink and it's a side to the Champion of Galar you have never seen before.

You are thoroughly reminded that he's still a human like you and that he too is a person on the pokearth who'll encounter bad luck on some occasions.

Poor guy.

You manage to pull yourself together, snapping out of your staring stupor.

"Oh, er...yeah, I'm fine." you utter quickly. It dawns to you that you’re not sure where to look when you catch a glimpse of his bare chest. His physique is not bulky or overly muscular... just perfect.

You quickly wipe those thoughts away from your mind and finally slip your diminutive hand into his, which is very warm, compared to yours anyway. He curls his fingers tightly around yours and pulls you up and off the ground.

"That's a relief," he says with a grin.  

His strength is uncalled for as you're easily pulled back to your feet although you trip slightly and he is quick to catch you; his other hand shoots out to grab you firmly whilst you accidentally grasp his rock-hard bicep and your eyes grow wide.

You abruptly hop out of his grip and cradle your hand to yourself, your cheeks growing warm from the unfamiliar contact.

Above, Hoothoot coos with mischief and finally drops the clothes. The damage has been done; the clothes are stained with mud and you see it's a plain white t-shirt and black boxers.

However, Leon does not curse or yell at the owl as one might do. Instead, he grins widely. "Did you have fun?"

The Hoothoot nods with gratitude and flaps its tiny wings, flying away. You watch the departing pokemon whilst Leon quickly gathers his clothes up in his arms.

"I didn't mean to frighten you,” he says before he quickly pulls on his muddied shirt and slips on his shorts under the towel whilst you automatically glance away, cringing slightly. Once he's fully clothed, he whips the towel off and wraps it around his arm. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No, no, I'm alright," you utter quickly and Leon smiles warmly at your reassurance. His smile takes you off guard and you cannot help but stare, "Um, are you okay?"

He nods; he has some patches of dirt on his face so you delve a hand into your bag and pull out a pack of clean tissues which he accepts.

"Here, take this."

"Oh, uh, thanks very much!" he replies energetically, and his smile broadens as he wipes at his cheek.

His smile is contagious; you resist the urge to smile in return.

"Thanks!" He says again, when he's finished.

But he has some dirt on his chin so you gesture to yourself, "You still have some...ah, just a little...on your chin. Right there."

"Here?"

"Yeah."

He scrubs himself but the dirt remains on his chin.

".......Do you want some help with that?"

He looks owlishly at you. "Okay, sure."

You take a clean tissue from one of your own packet and step closer to him then lift your hand and carefully dab at the spot. Now that you're closer to him, you get a better look at his features.

All the stories, the dedicated websites, the magazine articles....they're all true. He's been asking if you are fine when he might be hurt too. He is kind. That's not all, even though he's wearing a basic t-shirt and boxers splattered in mud, he is incredibly good-looking.

With those long eyelashes, the dedicated gleam in his eyes, perfect pearly white teeth and long, unruly hair, the more you look at him the more your heart thumps a tad harder against your ribs.

Leon grows still, swerving his eyes to you.

When you look up, he quickly looks away.

Feeling awkward, you quickly finish the job and step backwards. "All done."

Leon thanks you again and for a moment or so, you both stand in silence until you realise there is no reason for you to linger any longer and the house is still waiting to be discovered. Clearing your throat, you straighten the lapels of your coat and adjust your bag to its proper position over your back.

"Well, I guess this goodbye - oh, wait, take this too," you fish a small glass bottle with a cork, no bigger than your pinky finger, that is filled with random herbs. "It's a good luck charm. It's been blessed and will keep you safe."

"Thank you, that's very thoughtful," Leon takes the little bottle out of your hand, inspects it before he slips it somewhere safe in his pockets.

"No worries. Goodbye now," you hurriedly make a beeline past him.

"Wait, you dropped these," Leon calls after you and you pause in mid-step at once, turning round slowly; he has picked up a card and a small black object off the ground and promptly holds them out to you.

Stunned, you pat yourself down only to discover that indeed, your pocket radio and card is missing. Bloody hell, how in the name of Arceus did you manage to drop the radio?? You mentally scold yourself and hastily return to his side to retrieve your items although you end up swiping the radio out of his hands rather forcefully, cradling it to your chest.

"Thanks. You can keep the card."

Leon glimpses at it briefly. It's your business card which contains your full name, occupation, email address and a contact number. There is also a brief blurb on your study of the occult. "...You're a Pokemon Researcher?"

"Yeah, that's right. I study ghost pokemon," you say without looking at him, your attention fully averted to the radio as you fiddle with the device, pulling out the antenna and rotating one of the dials. Although you move the dial, nothing gets picked up and there is only silence. You keep turning the dial until you configure it to the frequency of eighteen nine eight hertz.

"That's amazing. I heard that field of study can be terrifying."

You hesitate as he grins, then you nod. "It is. It's not for the faint-hearted. My line of work usually revolves around all sorts of dead things," you reply, before you ask, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

He blinks blankly at you. "Uh...well...I guess so."

His response is more or less awkward but you have placed him in a rather difficult position. You're not surprised by his response. Even though there are ghost-type pokemon, people still maintain skepticism when it comes to the supernatural.

A brief silence spawns following your reply. Leon appears...intrigued. He studies you carefully. You are a girl in a warm, long coat, slacks and comfy hiking boots. One would possibly mistake you for a gym challenger but you are a Pokemon Researcher and for a Pokemon Researcher, you are young for your age. And since you've met Leon all the way out here, you may as well ask.

"By the way, have you seen or heard anything weird around here? Like...weird lights or strange noises?"

"No-"

"Oh, okay, forget I asked then. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Wait," Leon says; he seems to have caught on that something must be amiss, "Is something wrong? Do you need help?"

The corner of your lips tug upwards into a smile. "No, it's fine-" you pause when a crackling static emits from the radio in your hands. Eyes wide, you lift it up and the white noise grows louder and louder until a scratchy and hoarse, little voice can be heard.

"......Is someone there? Hello....? Help me, please."

There are a couple of distorted crackling noises until the radio goes dead once again. You grow silent, lips turning into a frown.

Leon observes your reaction before he asks, "Who was that?"

You don't answer.

"Is your radio broken?"

"The question isn't a matter of who but what," you correct him, "'What was that'. And no, it's not broken. This is a special radio. It only works on this frequency."

And you show him your radio, the little screen and the dial and he glances over curiously.

"Eighteen ninety eight?" He utters.

"Yeah. If you want to see or hear ghosts, use this frequency."

Leon's reaction is a classic. His eyes widen to the size of saucers. Every time you talk to someone or meet someone, you always end up worming that into conversations and the expression on their faces are priceless. It's a killer.

"Well, that's what people say anyway. It's up to you if you want to believe it or not."

He looks confused.

You hope you haven't scared him too bad though so you grin widely to make him feel more at ease. "Relax. There's nothing here right now," you reply. He seems positively spooked as you slip the radio into your bag and zip it up. "Now if you excuse me, I have a haunted house to find. Goodnight."

Leon watches your retreating back heading further and further down the winding path until Charizard appears, swooping through the trees and landing on the ground with a loud thump. He's holding his sweats, bag and shoes and Leon grins widely.

"Thanks, buddy," Leon says, taking his belongings out of his grip; he slips on his shoes before Charizard snorts and nudges his head towards the trees. "Sorry, bud, not yet."

Charizard looks at him questioningly.

"I think we should go with her. She might need our help." Leon says, before he quickly reaches into his bag to pull out a clean shirt. He swap his sullied shirt and folds it away then hops behind a tree to change out of his muddy boxers for a new pair, dons his sweats and returns to the path.

He glances around, hoping to catch glimpse of you to see where you disappeared off to and successfully pinpoints you meandering down the beaten path a short distance away.

He yells your name and begins to trail after you.

You haven't gone too far and upon hearing Leon's voice, you turn round.

You stop in your path, raising a brow as soon as you spot a fully and more appropriately-dressed Leon dashing towards your direction with Charizard behind him. Stunned, you blink blankly as he stops in front of you, panting somewhat.

“Um...What are you doing?" you ask in bewilderment.

You glance at Charizard and he has the same sticker you saw at the train so you're certain it's him and he seems to recognise you also, tilting his head at you curiously and you nod. He lets out a loud but delighted huff in response.

"What? You two know know each other?" Leon asks, and Charizard nods. "You met on the train?"

Charizard nods again.

You merely grin.

"Then I guess no introductions are needed," Leon averts full focus back to you. "Can we come with you?"

"Why?"

"Because I think you need help."

"It's okay, I don't need help. No offence to you and the big guy," you reply, gesturing to Charizard, "Besides, I'm a bit of a lone wolf and it could be dangerous."

"That's exactly why we should go with you."

You're not particularly worried about Charizard so you proceed to examine Leon carefully, circling him with a hand under your chin as you look at him from head to toe and he blinks under your scrutiny. Maybe they should come after all. It would make things more interesting.

"...Alright. You want to come with me? Let's go then."

Leon replies with a grin, "Lead the way."

[spxctrixmru]

Sitting at Saren’s desk in their home, Nihlus had cleaned up their home in the Presidium for the eventual return of Saren. Last he heard of Saren was that he was undergoing rigorous psychological testing in the Medbay in the Citadel. Sparatus’ orders. It was for the best. He’s already had his crimes pardoned. Of course Saren wasn’t the suspect, but now all eyes were on the Reapers, Sovereign specifically. well, Sovereign was gone. Sparatus has agreed, as well as the rest of the council seats to reinstate Saren’s Spectre status if he passes all psychological tests, if he’s truly free of the indoctrination. Nihlus is anxious, to be honest. They’re just glad the council is doing all of this after turning in all the evidence. It’s been a couple weeks since Saren’s biotic amps were replaced.

Hoping for the best, his talons clank against the wooden desk, in some sort of rhythm that he’d heard countless times in the clubs littered about in the Presidium. A Spectre’s home such as Nihlus and Saren’s was a large home, penthouse-like. Surely they wouldn’t use their entire home, but, Nihlus and Saren have their own rooms, foolish contractors don’t know that they’ll be sleeping together. Though, it’s nice to… be here again. Their walls are soundproof. No one can hear Nihlus’ voice—but damnit he wants his voice to be heard. Silence. Nothing but his talons against the smooth wood. He.. heard everything from the omni-tool Saren had running in the Medbay, he was talking about Nihlus, how he just wanted to settle down after the test results come in.

How nice. Nihlus thinks to himself, they just want Nihlus and him to…settle down. At least for awhile. Shepherd’s probably going after the Reapers. according to Council’s most recently mission report, the Geth are still trying to get to the Reapers, worship them. Saren’s no longer indoctrinated, wonder how it’s going to go. The younger Spectre sighs, going into Saren’s lab, of course he had this. This is where he spent hours finding the cure for Krogan infertility. Maybe Saren could finish it, allow Krogan’s to be cured of such a horrid thing. Nihlus always hated thinking about the Krogan Rebellions and such. It was the past. This was the present. They could help so many people, but.. it’s time to rest, relax—finally settle down.

It takes a couple of minutes for Nihlus to exit the lab, still holding his omnitool as they sit on the couch, in which he’d recently just cleaned the dust off of, as well as everything else… they had already thrown out the old food waste that had gone bad, of course, Nihlus was tidying up their home, before staring down at the omnitool. Still listening to Saren speak during his tests. And then waiting eagerly for his results. It’s nice to hear that Saren’s taking this whole thing well, even if it’s going to be rough around the edges in the Citadel and Presidium for awhile, he’ll make sure Saren’s okay.

Deep Breaths. In. Out. In and out. You’ll be fine, Nihlus. Which reminds him—the younger Spectre has a health evaluation in the next couple of days. It lines up with Saren’s own, well, what should’ve been Saren’s is being done right now. Of course, he doesn’t mind going alone. He hears another Turian voice faintly in the background. It’s the doctor—giving Saren their diagnosis and what-not. Time to listen.

^”There’s no irregularities in that brain of yours, there’s no external signals coming from anywhere, either. To the best of my knowledge. You’re free to go. I’ll just send these reports to the Council, and you should be a free man, Saren.”^

Those words made Nihlus giddy and joyous. Saren’s going to have to stay there for another hour at most for everything to get cleared up. It isn’t long until he hears the announcement. Saren’s a free man. He’s a spectre again—The Reapers plans have been made public to anyone who wishes to plan against Sovereign. Which means Shepherd is most certainly going after them given the news and reports that are now spreading like wildfire.

But.. everything just feels so off and not even Nihlus knows as to why. It shouldn’t matter. This should matter, actually. Why is Nihlus so damn indecisive. Right. Right—Reapers are still about. But, how long much longer until they get to the 50,000 year mark? It’s gotta be only a couple years away given re-emergences of specifically Sovereign on Eden Prime. Of Course, Nihlus is still suffering some pain in his back thanks to the pistol wound. It still got him pretty good, good enough to be unconscious for at least two days afterward.

Such a day of emotions. He’s anxious, then happy out of his mind, and now back to anxious. Nihlus wasn’t one to bottle it up but, for once, he did. It’ll go away on its own, of course it would, right? He has more things to focus on, like getting his way to the Medbays. That’s exactly what He’d do, sporting a casual pair of shorts and a muscle shirt, bandages still on his back from that morning. With that? He sets out. there’s a bit of urgency, but that’s solely because he wants to see Saren again in person and not just on another side of an omni-tool. Surely it wouldn’t take too long, but with quick transport locked up at the moment, he’d resort to just jogging through the area. Some civilians wondered if the Spectre just is exercising again, but, given how he’s headed towards the Med-bays, it’s more important than that. Maybe they’ll get something to eat later with Saren, but, for now? He just wants to see them again.

Nihlus hadn’t forgotten to bring a change of clothes. In current moments, Saren’s armor and current clothing underneath were dirty and cracked. Broken. So he’d just grabbed what Saren usually wore before all of this happened. Fashion King he was. Nihlus can’t even complain either��he looks good in it. Silky, not so baggy, looking robes and pants. Talk about walking out of a fashion show of a closet. Maybe he should let Saren dictate his own fashion sense for awhile.

Nah. That would never work out. Not in another million years. Nihlus did like Saren’s fashion, it just, well, wouldn’t fit Nihlus, like, at all. There’s a yawn, a stomach growl. Saren’s most likely feeling the same. They’re both tired and starving, wanting to return to the peaceful, quiet life for at least a little while. Can’t blame them, either. One who goes through indoctrination and is fully cured of it? They’re going to be scarred for the rest of their lives.

The fear he heard in Saren’s voice hits Nihlus hard every time. He’ll never allow this to happen ever again. He’ll make sure they both get their happy ending. He doesn’t care what it’s going to take to get that Happy Ending. If he has to go around and destroy every damn Reaper in the entire Galaxy, he will. Though Shepherd’s most certainly also going after them. Can’t blame them, either. He’ll just let them go for it.

This is where their story splits. To think only a couple weeks ago, Nihlus was on the Normandy, looking over Shepherd to become a Spectre as well. A shaky breath escapes the younger Spectre’s mouth, his mandibles stretching out, also shaking. You can tell he’s anxious still, even through the Doctors telling Saren he’s free. He just wasn’t expecting the Council to make a big decision this quickly, and especially even faster to clear Saren’s name.