#beloved ghost nerds

[theladysherlock]

I can't speak to all of it but I CAN speak on how they might approach Holly, because she's my favorite and I want her done right.

Before I go into what I think they could do, we gotta go over the deviations they're going to make.

1. She can't show up when Lucy is visiting her family. Show!Lucy is a runaway, she's not going to willingly go back for a quick visit. Book!Lucy went to see her biological family and then returned to her Real Family at 35 Portland Row and found another girl in her place (using HER favorite dishware and eating HER favorite treats), which is why that hurt so much. We won't have that theme here.

2. The cleaning thing. Show!35 Portland Row is in good condition, and as you pointed out, George cleans when he's stressed. The house is fine. There needs to be something else.

3. The internalized misogyny (hopefully). We've seen Show!Lucy's relationship with Norrie, we know she is capable of being friends with other girls. She's also more cordial to Kat. Book!Lucy didn't have any other female friends that we got to see.

So if we're going to add her in, there are a few things that need to stay the same to keep the general tone.

1. Holly's arrival has to upset Lucy. While I would like to say it makes Lucy feel like she's been replaced, I don't know that we can do that in the current Show climate. However! We could still have Lucy leave to visit Norrie in the hospital. While she's still a bit raw after seeing her best friend in such a state (maybe she was hoping if Norrie recovered she could join Lucy at Lockwood & Co.), she arrives to find that the boys have hired a DIFFERENT girl who is so different from Norrie that it upsets Lucy in a way that is hard for her to articulate.

2. Holly has to fill a logistical niche in the company. Part of why she annoys Lucy so much is that she's not a field worker, so she has to remain someone who doesn't go out on cases.

With all that in mind, here are my suggestions for how they could include Holly in theoretical future seasons:

Option One: DEPRAC Requirement

Show!Barnes is much more invested in keeping these kids alive than Book!Barnes was, at least as far as we saw from Lucy's POV. It's not unreasonable that Barnes could request an audit on their files or something. Maybe before they fail the inspection, Lockwood hires Holly as a temp to whip things into shape and Lucy is annoyed at "Just a Temp" poking into all her stuff. Maybe after they fail the inspection, Barnes insists they hire someone and recommends Holly (he would also be keeping track of her team and would know she needs some way to get back on her feet after her whole team died), and Lucy is CERTAIN that she's a DEPRAC spy reporting back to Barnes. Then, when the boys seem to like her and aren't suspicious the way she is, we can still get that moment where she feels like they're shutting her out.

Option Two: PR Person

Maybe Lockwood has gone and run his mouth on television one too many times, or maybe he's promised things they simply can't deliver on. Maybe he's getting them dangerously close to getting in trouble with DEPRAC again and he admits that maybe he doesn't need to be the face as much and they can have someone else there. They hire Holly to do a very similar job in the books: answering calls, keeping track of cases, basically she is the first person that people see when they walk into 35 Portland Row. However, and this is the part that rubs Lucy the wrong way, Holly is ALSO the press correspondent, and is frequently on television taking credit for jobs she wasn't even there for. Lucy would expect Lockwood to take her side in this, since he hates not being in the spotlight, but when he admits freely that Holly's doing a good job and she's an important part of the team it just pisses her off more.

And, as a final note, I would really want them to keep the fact that Holly's whole team died just like Lucy's. The show didn't include that tidbit with Flo, and I think the characterization suffers for it. The three girls are more alike than they are different and it highlights how terrible this world is for them. And I want Show!Lucy to lash out and say that Holly's a coward for not being able to go back into the field. It's cruel and unfair and it's not as though Show!Lucy hasn't lashed out at people before (but in my opinion she hasn't done it nearly enough!!! Let her be mean!!!)

there's one major thing that's been nagging on me about l&co adaptation ever since my first watch: if we were to get season 2, how would they set up the conflict of THB?

i can get behind some of reinterpretation of characters and their mannerisms, character traits (i.e. Lockwood dressing less formal and not being a know-it-all, Lucy being less hateful towards George, seeing Kipps as he's actively losing his talent, George Karim being iranian and being very close to his culture in a form of cuisine), some are good, as a fan of books i'd be eager to get to know these characters along side their book counterparts.

but alas, i can't see these characters as the same characters in both medias because too much of their characterisation was changed, and it's really hard to blame on pacing or the lack of screen time. it's the writing. some changes going as far as making me question, what were they supposed to do with this groundwork in the second season.

how would runners set up a conflict of L&Co overworking themselves after gaining fame over solving the bone glass case and accepting all calls they were getting, if show!Lockwood out right says in episode 4 that he's not interested in boring cases? not only does it get rid off of a major characterisation of Lockwood as someone who's, yes, in it for fame, but most importantly he became an agent to "avenge" his family. avenge isn't even the right word, i think. he doesn't want others to be fallen victims to a visitor, doesn't want to see other people lose their loved ones, lose their family to ghosts. not only does it make show!Lockwood rather vain and only fame driven, instead of someone dealing with deep personal trauma, but also loses one of the key points of Holly's introduction to the team. (i also love the reading of LW naming his agency Lockwood&Co as something less selfish and more about him paying a tribute to his family, that without them and visitors taking them away from him, he wouldn't start his agency and wouldn't be able to help other people.)

speaking of Holly's introduction, what exactly would have been her role at the start in the show? L&Co don't seem overworked from the 4 cases they had (2 related to TSS out of 4 in the book, Wimbledon gallows + Bickerstaff's, not counting Wilberforce's ghost and a bunch of not mentioned in dialogue cases i. e. Mrs Barrett's tomb). that already solves the problem of trio not having free time to do chores around the house. but say show says "and now they're overworked" instead of showing, sure, but it doesn't get rid of George's stress cleaning habit.

Holly was introduced as a help, as a support to the way L&Co was already running and over the books she became more than just an assistant but a beloved part of the team. without proper reasoning as to why Lockwood & Co had to get an assistant, Holly's introduction could be messy and unprompted, something like checking a box in the list of what has to happen instead of making it story driven. something like what happened to skull's character.

and a final thing that im iffy about is the ending of the first season. somehow show rushed through and speedran Lockwood's suicidal arc as well as managed to call it out by the end of show's TWS storyline, where books didn't show any progress even by the end of TEG.

but im saying call it out, not resolve. i'd actually appreciate it if show made an effort of showing that such tendencies and lack of self-preservation aren't just resolved in a second, someone saying "stop being suicidal" doesn't magically fix everything. and yet, show still speedran things, especially given that events of the show happen in only 10 days instead of a year, and Lockwood's already made very aware of his reckless behaviour aka throwing himself in danger for people, and, what's even more questionable, for people he barely knows. which, again, contradicts his character and the way he navigates trauma.

these character and plot deviations and inconsistencies may not seem critical at first, but they might build over the course of the series and lead to a complete shift in overall narrative and spirit of L&Co as a story. which i wouldn't want to see as a fan.

to put it simply, i can see why fans want for show to be picked up for a second season, but i can't see how writers could make it coherent because they wrote themselves into a corner.

[praetoring]

dp x dc au where...

upon his death, jason's soul is transported to the ghost zone and he becomes a ghost

here despite wishing he could move on, he simply cannot, so there's a little robin - all bloody, bruised, and torn - floating around the ghost zone

(he hasn't quite figured out how to change his ghostly form yet)

some months after his death, the reality gauntlet is snapped, correcting reality to how it's meant to be

one jason todd crawls out of his grave, but his ghostly soul remains in the ghost zone

it isn't until talia collects jason from gotham, brings him to the league, and pushes him into the lazarus pit for body and ghostly soul to be reunited

(lazarus pits are essentially the sewer drains of the ghost zone - corrupted ectoplasm is expunged from the zone and sent to the mortal realm, where it evaporates and decomposes in the unstable environment - and jason took a dip in that toxicity)

jason doesn't remember those months he spent catatonic, but he does remember a swirling realm of purples and greens and floating islands and flying between them

he is trained by the league, but upon realizing he still has his ghostly, he makes sure to practice those too

red hood returns to settles in gotham, as dangerous criminal shaking up the underworld, who no one can seemingly catch and no one can seemingly hit

he always seems to slip away from the bats, just one step ahead, and when the round the corner he's long gone

batman, bruce, is slowly growing more frustrated, with this new criminal, and it's messing with him

the stress of it all is getting to him, and he starts seeing manifestations of his dead son

a little bloody, bruised, and torn up robin floats just inside his peripherals, always reminding him of what he lost

au where jason is half dead, but half alive, and in his anger and hurt, uses his ghost form to haunt bruce

[ace-ghostss]

ADELIA ROWE

An abolitionist turned disguised Union cavalry soldier, Adelia met her death after succumbing to an infected gunshot wound from a small-scale battle against Confederate sympathizers broke out on the land that would become the Woodstone property. In death she’s accompanied by her devotedly loyal stallion, Freedom, who was shot down during the battle.

Adelia is of about medium height, with short, scruffy hair cut into a masculine look. She has a fair complexion with freckles on her face, along with a few scars and gunpowder residue on the corner of her mouth. Her eyes are a deep brown with darkened circles underneath them, smudges of dirt and gunpowder littered across her skin. She still wears her cavalry uniform with deep blue fabric, a bloody wound beneath the right side of her ribcage wrapped half-heartedly with white bandages beneath her undershirt. She has her saber hoisted on her belt with bronze shoulder guards to protect from saber slashes, her pants and boots muddied from the earth.

In life, Adelia was nothing short of passionate and headstrong. A fierce abolitionist, she was raised in a relatively wealthy household in Upstate New York, and for a woman of her time she was well-read and intelligent, as well as athletic with a deep love for horses since her family bred racehorses. She knew and read about the injustices occurring in the South with the cruel system of slavery, and sought to be a factor in it’s eventual destruction - but was held back by her social status and gender. But once the Civil War broke out, Adelia made the choice to disguise herself and leave her family behind to join the Union Army, believing the war was the final turning point in dismantling slavery once and for all.

To her unit she was known as Sargent Adam Rowe, a fierce fighter with a deep loyalty to his fellow soldiers. And although Adelia would live to see the Emancipation Proclamation, she wouldn’t live to see the final takedown of slavery, dying in March of 1864 at the age of 23, making her the fourth oldest ghost.

Adelia’s ghost power is similar to Pete’s, as she can also go past the ghost boundary - but only if she’s riding Freedom. If they’re off the property for too long, however, it can physically harm the both of them.

As for how she fits in the bigger ghost group, Adelia can come off as blunt and sarcastic, but she’s a passionate and genuine person once you get past the tough outer shell she’s built up from centuries of being a ghost. And while the other ghosts of Woodstone can get under her nerves, she’s definitely grateful to not have to spend her afterlife completely alone - and she’s even managed to find love in a particular punk ghost on the property.

[msommers]

AM I WALKING TOWARDS SOMETHING I SHOULD BE RUNNING AWAY FROM?

LUCINDA "LUCE" ARMITAGE ↳ MC for The Fernweh Saga by @lacunafiction

[bandaidsthings]

uuuu……. wake up babe it’s that time of year where bandaid remembers their OFF phase

[existentialcrisis-24-7]

I recently found my 3DS and also found my Pokémon Alpha Sapphire game and guess who just lost 8 hours of their life

[bunny-jpeg]

scary dog privilege

simon "ghost" riley

cw: smut/pwp, loving!ghost, size difference/kink, body worship, praise kink, missionary

  “simon? a scary dog? no way!” you laughed as you had another sip of your coffee. you were meeting with a few of your friends and they were curious about your boyfriend. they had met him a few times and thought you two were a good match, despite simon's scary appearance. one of your friends suggested that simon was akin to a scary dog. and the notion made you laugh.

your simon? the one who brought you home flowers every time he returned back to england. the one who doted on you that one time you had a really bad headache. the same simon that figured out the recipe to one of your favourite childhood dishes! he went through all the trouble to contact your grandmother and find out exactly how to make it because he loved you that much. 

  “he dresses in all-black and is so tall. it's a little scary!” your friend admitted. 

you laughed, “oh you guys are so funny. simon's a huge sweetheart! literally the other day he was nice enough to make me some homemade ice tea so i would have something cool to drink when i got home from work!” 

your friends looked at each other, as long as you weren't in a situation you didn't want to be in. then who were they to judge, simon never laid a hand on you that you didn't want on you. however, they worried that the people who tried to push your boundaries were not as lucky as you. you continued to chat happily with your friends, your sweet coffee tasted good on your tongue. you were all cooing and blushing over your beloved boyfriend simon!

and during the course of your time with your friends, they were almost convinced that simon was less of a pitbull and more of a golden retriever. that was until the imposing soldier came through the front door of the cafe. the heavy steps of his boots could be heard as he approached the table you were seated at with your friends. 

he definitely looked more like guard dog than a lap dog. 

you looked over and your expression changed to one of glee as you put your drink down and reached for your boyfriend. you babbled at him about how you were talking about him, and he responded with short nods and not many words. you were for sure more of the talker than he was. you finished your drink, even sharing some with simon before you gave all your friends hugs and left with your scary boyfriend. 

simon adored you, therefore you hardly noticed how tall he was, how big every part of him was, the medical mask he always wore, but you knew what was underneath. simon didn't scare you as he did others, he was your loving boyfriend of the last few years. he was a nerd about history facts and loved manchester united. he drank his tea black and his coffee with two sugars.  he wasn't scary. 

even though on your way home and you were giving some directions, simon was over your shoulder glaring daggers at the person receiving your instructions. afterwards you took simon's hand and swung your hands as you walked towards the tube station. you sat close to him on the train, his large arm over your shoulders and occasionally you kissed any exposed skin on his face. 

you hardly noticed when simon was giving the death glare to someone else on the train who was eyeing you up and down. if you weren't at simon's side, he would've made himself known to the man eyeing you. made sure that the other man wasn't going to cause any problems. last thing he wanted was for it to get physical.

  “si?” you looked at him curiously, noticing he hadn't moved in a good moment. 

  “don't worry, love. thought i saw something.” 

you nodded and melted back into his side until it was time to get off the train. simon just adored you, he thought you brought the sunrise to him every morning. you had captured his heart quite easily. you were soft, not weak. you were far from weak, you could take anything and then some. but you were a lot softer than him, all the way down to your smooth hands that touched his scars. your heart was always in the right place and simon felt the need to protect you. 

after dinner you were snuggled up with your big handsome boyfriend. you felt comfortable next to him.  you spread your hand across his strong chest and pressed yourself up against him. you asked him, “si, do you think you're a scary dog?”

  “a scary dog?”

  “yeah, like when i walk down the street with you no one wants to approach us because you're so scary!”

he chuckled and pulled you closer to him, “well, i wouldn't say i'm scary. but you are.” he said as a joke, you wouldn't hurt a fly. literally, last time there was a fly in your flat you coaxed the insect out through an open window. 

you chuckled and leaned up to kiss him, “well, i guess i have to protect you then.” you flexed your bicep and laughed some more. simon just pinned you to him and kissed the shell of your ear all the way down your neck. this only caused you to squirm against him as you laughed more. 

  “i guess so, maybe i should give you a ‘thank you’ for doing such a good job protecting me.” he said with a certain softness in his voice. 

you held onto the front of his shirt and gave him a mischievous glance, “i guess you do. i do love rewards.” then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. you then got out of your boyfriend's grasp and took him by the hand delicately and led him towards your shared bedroom. you could feel the flush in your cheeks. you couldn't help but giggle at how much you loved your boyfriend. 

in the bedroom, simon grabbed you from under the pits and almost tossed you onto the big bed you both shared.  you sat on it and quickly got your t-shirt off, followed by your sweatpants that you had rolled up to the knees. simon helped you get your socks off along with your bra. you then laid out under him in just a cheap pair of cotton panties. 

simon's hands roamed your body, he was naked as well. his cock stood proud between his legs. enticing you. he really was so much bigger than you, he wasn't one of those dehydrated muscle guys. no, no, he had a bulk to him that was lined with muscles. he could easily lift two of you, if not more, with relative ease. 

  “you look like a dream.” he said softly, “every time i go away, i'm thinkin' about ya, love. thinkin' about those pretty eyes, your soft skin, the little scar on your cheek, those nice thighs. i'm thinkin' about every inch of my woman.” his words made your chest soar as you felt warmth in his presence.  his hands continued to roam, feeling the valleys of your body before they rested on the the waistband on your underwear. 

slowly he took them off with a little help from you. it left you both naked. simon leaned in and kissed you once more, his hands were on your breasts and he palmed them softly. he never wanted to hurt his beautiful girl. he could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from how much you were blushing. simon left a few more kisses because he pulled back to grab you by the hips. 

you wrapped your legs around your lover and smiled up at him. bright like the afternoon sun. he held onto your hips with one hand and the other was wrapped around his cock as he rubbed his length up against your sweet cunt. he shuddered and you wanted to cover your face with your hands. but you knew that simon loved when he was able to see you.

  “ready for me?” he asked. 

you nodded and shifted your hips a little. you winced a little when you felt the initial stretch of his cock. you exhaled deeply and relaxed as he slotted his cock snugly inside of you. you reached for him and held onto his shoulders as he pressed his strong chest against yours. you swore you could feel the race in his heart rate. 

  “you take me so well.” he purred, “you take me perfectly. nobody else can take this like you can.” he planted his hands on either side of you on the bed and pushing his cock up into you. he felt the sweat at the nape of his neck and it felt good all over. 

  “i'm made just for you, si.” you giggled as you squirmed a little bit, but simon's much larger body kept you pinned down onto the bed. you two moved against one another, there was sparse kisses shared between the two of you as the bed creaked under your movements. 

simon felt like you other half, you couldn't believe that the man for you was a burly over 6ft tall soldier who loved and adored you. who'd do anything for you. you didn't understand dhow anyone could find him terrifying. he was just so doting on you. even his kisses were soft as he rocked against you. his cock nudged against some of your most sensitive areas. 

the love making between you two continued, you kept your legs around your lover and let him shove his cock up into you. the kissed became heavier as the pleasure bloomed in your body. you panted a little between kisses and knew that orgasm was creeping up on you. there was something about simon that made you hot all over. he knew exactly how to love you.

  “i love you.” he said softly. he placed his hands closer to your head and kissed you softly between heavy thrusts. his whispered praises you could barely hear against your neck as he felt the sweat on his back, his entire body felt hot but it was also an amazing feeling.  he muttered, “i'm close.” and picked up his pace. 

you met his thrusts and let the pleasure melt in your body. you clutched onto him and tightened your legs around his waist. your gummy walls felt so good around him and he buried his face in your neck as he gave a few more powerful thrusts. he came inside of you with a shudder but kept up the pace of his thrusts until you came as well. you held onto him, nails dug into his shoulders as you arched you back a little. 

simon slowed down his pace until it came to a stand still with his softening cock still inside of you. the blond wiped the sweat from his forehead as he pulled you in for another hot kiss. he then slowly pulled out and took hold of you. his strong arms around you as you laid on top of the covers. his legs tangled in yours as you both tried to catch your breath.

  “i don't think you're a scary dog, si.” you yawned as you got comfortable. 

simon chuckled, his brown eyes slightly closed, “oh yeah? all the tattoos and dark clothes aren't scary enough for ya?”

you turned over to face him and presses a kiss on his crooked nose, “nope, because i know once we get out of bed you'll be getting me my favorite bowl and two healthy scoops of cookies n' cream ice cream.” then beamed at him. 

  “ah well, of course. only the best for my girl.” he kissed you on the cheek. he may be scary to everyone, but to you he was just a little lap dog. <3

[miupow]

[ 7:45 pm ] - c. seungcheol

── ★ [ 💭 ] NSFW, MDNI! pure smut, dom!cheol, sub!fem!reader, oral (f. rec), voyeurism + exhibitionism, jeonghan and joshua mention, nasty nasty filth. 700 words

based on a request from my beloved @the-quiet-nerd-guy ♡

“cheol, the door—!” you gasp, hand desperately grasping seungcheol’s hair as he nuzzled your breasts. he blinks his pretty brown eyes up at you, gaze soft as a caress, so lovestruck and innocent for his dirty actions; tired of your teasing, in a second he had pulled you through the door and folded in half on the mattress, his thick arms caging you flush against his chest and his rough hands quick in tearing you out of your clothes. with your body bare and your legs slung over his shoulders, seungcheol presses wet kisses across the flushed peaks of your tits, pink tongue peaking out to tease at your puffy nipples before skating across your hot skin. you tangle your fingers in the hairs at the base of his neck, whimpering desperately as he begins to mark his way down your chest and tummy with pretty purple bruises.

in his rush to get you alone seungcheol had left the door wide open, soft light from the living room shining and illuminating your figures. it was something he was often guilty of, and something you normally wouldn’t mind, but jeonghan and joshua sat just feet away on the couch, blissfully unaware of where seungcheol had dragged you off to and for why. you could hear their muffled voices chatting amongst themselves, too low to understand, and a surprisingly delicious thrill runs hot in your belly from the mischievous smirk seungcheol gives you in response to your whining.

“what about the door, honey?” he croons, deep voice dripping with poisonous honey. One of his big calloused hands sears a path down your trembling stomach to the soft swell of your hips, his pouty lips hot and heavy as they make their way down below your navel. his kisses were always overflowing with a tantalizing possessiveness, a sense of worship that overwhelmed you in the best way. you couldn’t control your pathetic keen of pleasure, tugging urgently at his hair as you throw your head back against the pillows— you desperately wanted to keep quiet, but it was impossible with how seungcheol so effortlessly flooded your body with red hot desire.

“cheol,” you cry out again, your rushed whispers squeaky and broken with arousal. “close the door, they’ll hear—!”

“and i what if i want them to?” seungcheol cuts you off, his head finally dipping down to nose at your soaking cunt, ghost the plush of his lips against your swollen clit. “want them to hear how good i give it to you… you’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? other men listening in on you getting fucked?”

seungcheol’s confession shoots through you like a shockwave, leaves your thighs trembling and your chest heaving— you had not an inkling of an idea that your sweet, gentle and protective boyfriend had such a nasty mind, would ever entertain even the thought of other men in witness to your pleasure… but the idea awakens an all-consuming fire in your belly, one that heats up your skin and drenches your core. “cheol—“ you cry out again, breathless and begging, your thoughts too fragmented to utter anything else except his name.

the long thick fingers that had been caressing over your hip slides down to rub sweet circles against your weeping clit, tease down between your folds to collect your dripping slick. “fuck, i knew you were a slut,” seungcheol hisses, dirty words juxtaposing his loving smile. “would you want them to watch, too? want them to watch you get treated like a whore?” he roughly kisses your clit, slips two of his fingers into your throbbing pussy. your walls clench around them instantly, the stretch nowhere near enough for the rising arousal clouding your senses. “my whore. all mine. let’s let them hear you scream for me, honey.”

his tongue meets his fingers fucking into your messy hole, the wet noises clashing with the ringing in your ears; you wail for release, your hand not tangled in seungcheol’s hair grasping at the bedsheets as your boyfriend begins to eat you out in earnest. you distantly hear the floorboards creak, adjacent to footsteps, and a sickeningly large part of you hopes that it’s jeonghan and joshua.

[evilminji]

You know what's a terrifying team up?

Paulina and Sam.

But IMAGINE~☆

You are young, Hot(tm), in Love with a Hero who very EXSISTANCE is illegal. Head of the cheer squad and queen bee of your school. Managing the complexe ever shifting social calander of both your school AND your personal life, your flawless grades, even MORE flawless complexion. You. Get. Shit. DONE.

Was falling in love with a dreamy dead hero from beyond the veil part of your 20 year plan? No. Did you adapt? Yes!

But. There is a PROBLEM. The Tacky In White. Those STUPID laws. Who the FUCK are you supposed to marry the love of your life if he's being HUNTED BY THE GOVERMENT?! You REFUSE to have your wedding in international waters! Half your family gets SEA SICK!

So you plan. Social pressure. Soft power. Turn THE PEOPLE against the Goverment and it WILL bow. They'll have no choice. Enough anger? Enough rioting? The risk of LOSING their dearly beloved POWER? Laws? WHAT laws? Toss them in the bin!

Then a spring wedding for Pauly~♡

She just needs her PEOPLE. The BEAUTIFUL people. Socialites and celebrities. Pretty, pretty faces that speak gospel to their masses. If THEY say ghosts are good? Then ghosts are good! And she can TOTALLY convince them to rally behind this!

.....she just needs ACCESS.

Fuck.

Uuuuugh. So she drags herself, reluctantly and for LOVE, to the Nerd Table. To talk to... *scrunch* Samantha. Blegch.

Do it for the cause, Pauly.

And? Dispite being SUPER lame and totally hostile at first? She's actually totally done to help? Really??? Huh. That's... Like? They're never gonna be FRIENDS or anything... but that... means a lot.

Thanks.

It's awkward. And obviously she doesn't want to catch NERD. So she leaves. But like? She wasn't TOTALLY awful. Paulina's mom was right. They really ARE growing up, aren't they? Weird.

Regardless. She has her IN. Billionaire, soft heart, and a GORGEOUS face. Brucie "Prince of Gotham" Wayne is holding a party. And Paulina? Is going to make him CRY. His kids too.

Those Tacky in White bastards are gonna be hunting ghost puppies and beating up ghost grannies. She's gonna get the nerd squad to make her fact sheets. Statistics! Wait for her Ghost Boy, help is coming. Paulina Sánchez is gonna make SURE of it!

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation

[genevievefangirl]

Gen's Top 100 DBDA Fics - PART 9

For all caveats/rules/backstory, please read the Master Post

The Manuscript of Real People By: paraph @paraphwrites Rating: M Tags: AU - Boarding School, Angst, Slow Burn, Pining, Unfinished Summary: Britain, 1976. Three years into boarding at Saint Hilarion's School, Edwin Paine is assigned Charles Rowland as a roommate. - Featuring: mistakes better made, days hidden in libraries, and no rafter left unwandered. also featuring: charles doing sport and edwin being gay for it, edwin being a nerd and charles being gay for it, and me pretending i know what boarding schools are like! My Notes: The darker boarding school that is universally beloved! This fic is honestly publish worthy. I love every word, sentence, and chapter. When it updates I RUN to read it and gush about it on the DBDA Haunt server with everyone else who is equally obsessed. When a new chapter drops, it is an event! (Also this is one of 2 unfinished fics that made the list, if that doesn't show how much I love it I don't know what will!)

The Many Forms of Phantoms By: thegirlofthorns @edwinspaynes Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Orbs Summary: Suddenly, there was a blast of light where Edwin was sitting. Charles dropped the comic to look at his friend, but Edwin was gone. In his place was a ball that glowed white, with some blue undertones reflecting off the surface. “Edwin!?” Charles threw the comic and ran over to the desk. “Edwin!” He picked up the little glowing ball in his hands and assessed it. It was odd – Charles could feel the orb, smooth like a perfect stone, and… warm. He had not felt temperature in over a year, and the orb was distinctly radiating warmth. “Edwin?” His voice was soft now. “Is that… you?” - Or, it's 1990, and Edwin involuntarily becomes a spirit orb for the first time. My Notes: Orb lore! Orb lore! Edwin turning into Orbwin unexpectedly and Charles and him trying to figure out what is all means is very entertaining.

the phantoms here will never have their fill By: ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero) @ahyperactivehero Rating: T Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Protective Charles Rowland, Protective Edwin Payne, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Hurt Edwin Payne, Slow Burn Summary: Poltergeists are created when a ghost experiences extreme emotional distress. Poltergeists are notoriously hard to reign in, and they almost never gently move on. Neither Edwin nor Charles ever imagined it would happen to them. Basically, five times where the Dead Boy Detective Agency dealt with the threat of a poltergeist. XXX “Once you choose to go down the poltergeist route there is no coming back,” Edwin said. “And I will have no choice but to follow you.” “You can’t do that mate,” Charles said. His voice had cleared up some, his form less wavy. “Then do not go where I cannot follow,” Edwin said. My Notes: This was one of my first fic obessions when I joined the fandom. The ideas that it poses about poltergeists have been referenced by many other authors and are truly foundational fanon at this point. Plus it has Charles protecting Edwin many times which I love!

The Problem of Forever By: RB (BlueflowersandWings) @writerofstuff Rating: T Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland, Case Fic, Kind of Summary: At first, it is subtle. — Or: a ghost couple comes to them with a case. Unfortunately for all parties involved, it does not go well. My Notes: I love how both the boys have to address insecurities to grow in their relationship. Charles being worried he's going to hurt Edwin and be like his dad hurts me deeply and Edwin worrying about being annoying hits too close to home.

The Seventh Circle of Hell By: chewingrocks Rating: G Tags: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmatism, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Charles goes down to Hell to rescue Edwin, however he ends up stumbling across one of Edwin's many corpses. My Notes: Is it bad that Charles crying over one of Edwin's dead body stuck with me so much? I don't think so! Sad Charles thinking Edwin is dead makes me *feel things*.

the taste in your mouth By: greenaerie Rating: M Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent. Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland, Protective Edwin Payne Summary: An unexpected attack from Esther shocks the Dead Boy Detective Agency, taking Charles out of commission. Edwin solves this the only way he can. A good detective does what they must, after all. My Notes: Basiclly what would have happened if Edwin decided to take the Cat King's original offer. The complicated consent issue here is really well addressed and I like how confused Edwin's feelings are about the whole interaction.

The Veil Between Our Love By: Mayarenerose @acediscowlng Rating: G Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: “Edwin,” he calls out. There’s a ball of anxiety knotted deep in his gut. It’s stupid. Edwin probably just went into the other room or something. Ghosts don’t have feet, not really. And Edwin does his best, but his default is still to be as quiet as possible and not make a single sign that he exists at all. Back then, it had been fine, yeah? Just one of Edwin’s quirks that Charles had gotten used to. After Hell, though, it’s one of those things that drives Charles absolutely mental that he could never ever mention to Edwin ever. “Edwin mate, where have you gone? I promise I haven’t touched anything.” No answer. Charles is alone. Charles touches a cursed veil that makes Edwin disappear. He does not handle the separation well. My Notes: This is a recent addition to my favorites, but DAMN did it break my heart the first time. Seeing Charles freak out about not seeing Edwin initially was great, but then the angst continues and scratches the itch in my brain perfectly.

The Warmth of you By: Superfriki Rating: NR Tags: Sickfic, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: “Normally it’s me who gets us in dangerous situations by tripping on something. Don’t steal my thing, mate” Edwin weakly chuckled, sounding raspy “Excuse me, next time I will make sure I ask your permission before I fall face first into a toxic plant” - Aka Charles takes care of Edwin when he is sick and realizes some things along the way. My Notes: Features Edwin passing out and Charles using books to help him! Plus all the usual sick fic things that we all love (blankets, caring, reading, etc!)

The Way Back Home By: Author_By_Many_Names @steampunk-dandy Rating: M Tags: AU - Star Wars, Edwin is Force Sensitive, Charles is a piolet, Protective Charles Rowland, Protective Edwin Payne Summary: Whilst on a routine mission that slowly becomes less and less routine, Edwin realises he can't hide his feelings for Charles any more. Meanwhile, Charles wants Niko and C to get off the ship so him and Edwin can go back to their blissfully domestic lives. My Notes: Star Wars AU! The worldbuilding here is so well done and I love what the author did with each of the characters. Edwin being force sensitive in particular makes me very happy!

There's No Fixing Some Things By: qwanderer @qwanderer Rating: T Tags: Angst, Post-Canon Summary: "Stop that right now," Charles snapped. "You can't say that, Edwin, you can't." Edwin blinked at him, startled. "You said I could talk to you about anything," he said, quietly confused. "Well, not that," Charles said, standing up and hefting his bag. My Notes: The reason why Edwin can't say what he said will knock you over. It certainly made me have so many *feelings*

[darkmajesty-xo]

Ready Player 1 ? - Shigaraki x reader

18+ MDNI | masturbation, praise , video chats, crack-humor

most would consider it unwise for a girl like you to be in these chat rooms due to the questionable discourse and rather infamous patrons, but girls just wanna have fun right ?

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: saw an old couple today, could be me and shig but he’s playing ☹️

user2345: i think you mean planning* as in planning world domination and torment of quirkless losers like you.

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: oh sweetheart you’ll never get any pussy if you keep acting like one

user3333: damn bro, you gonna take that ?

user2345: who gives a shit about some villain groupie ?

user2345: she keeps her mouth so full of cum that it’s starting to affect her whore brain.

user2345: do you really think the true leader of the new world would make time for some dumb cunt like you ?

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: there’s probably a higher chance of tomura shigaraki and i living happily ever after than there is of ANY woman even looking in your direction.

this was a normal friday night, you simping over shigaraki in the forums and clapping back at the misogynistic incels that hid behind their keyboards in their mothers’ basements. but there was one guy that always stood up for you whenever the idiots got too out of hand. he was also a moderator so he had no problems blocking them.

the two of you would dm off and on about life , thoughts on hero society, hobbies , etc. from your chats you gathered that he didn’t walk that straight and narrow but that didn’t mean much to you. he would sometimes tease your about your crush on shigaraki and your general taste in men.

finalboss: honestly, what kind of girl likes a criminal?; who knows what kind of twisted shit the guys into— you’re not even a villain.

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: you know nothing jon snow

finalboss: that reference just confirmed btw

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: i’ll have you know that my beloved is a certified otaku fantasy nerd.

finalboss: oh yeah ? and how’d you obtain such info ?

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: i run 3 stan accounts on twitter and i belong to a shiggy fan club 🥹

finalboss: 😃

finalboss: seek help

finalboss: 😃

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: you wound me ☹️

finalboss: i’ll just leave that too your Prince Charming lol

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: oh lord , did you see the footage of his latest attack ?

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: he was dressed like a whoreee 😩😩

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: tits just out for my viewing pleasure

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: shigaraki is my shepherd, he know what i want.

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: wanna suck on those sugar nips and call him mommy

finalboss: you get weirder and weirder every time we chat

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: that means we’re becoming besties ㅤ♡ ︎

finalboss: ♡ ︎

it was nice having someone to talk to about your secret obsession, it’s not like your “real life” friends would understand. the two of you had carved out your own little piece of the internet to goof around in. he never disclosed much information about himself and typically kept the conversations focused on you, but you still felt an undeniable bond to this faceless stranger.

then he ghosted you.

weeks went by without a word from your friend. he no longer defended you in the forums and he didn’t respond to any of your dms. you’d started to get worried that he may have been arrested or worse. and at the three month mark you’d finally given up hope that you’d ever hear from your friend again. but then the unexpected happened.

finalboss is requesting to video chat.

this was completely out of character but after months with no word, you were desperate to hear from your friend.

you were prepared to chew him him out for abandoning you. thinking of all the ways you could insult him while simultaneously expressing your need for his comfort and company. but your mind went blank when the grainy screen loaded into the pixelated image of your companion.

whispy tendrils fell from his bun, framing the sculpted planes of his handsome face. his lips were dry, slightly chapped, with the only lubrication being the sheen of saliva left by the slow drag of his tongue. bloodied eyes bore into your own leaving you breathless and dazed.

“hey bestie”

his voice was low and raspy, almost like a whisper. a deep rumbling that echoed in your ear drums. it was oddly hypnotic. he was absolutely mesmerizing.

tomura chuckled into the camera, showing flashes of perfectly white teeth. he leans back into the chair, a hand on the back of his neck showcasing a broad chest and toned abs.

“didn’t expect you to be this quiet, bestie. is my outfit not slutty enough for you ? i could always take these off…” his hand fell from his neck to rest and the waistband of his black jeans.

you remained speechless, eyes glued to the light dusting of hair below his belly button.

more laughter and shifting. now you were met with the glorious girth of shigaraki’s cock clenched tightly in his fist. the darkened tip oozed a sparkling trail of pre that spilled down his length. his thumb swiped the fluid to spread over his veiny member.

“c’mon , doll. don’t leave me hanging” he teased, squeezing his fist upwards to produce more pre. “i thought you wanted to be my ‘mc’ ? seems more like an npc if you ask me”.

“y-you’re him” you stammered, eyes following the slow drag of his fist. “you’re tomura shigaraki”.

“in the flesh” he teased, shooting a wink that went directly between your legs. “well kinda, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. sorry i’ve been away so long, but you’d wait forever for me won’t you , perfect girl ?”

your nod was automatic. robotic even. you’d moved closer to the screen, completely engrossed by his ministrations.

“anything for you beyon—shiggy”

you both laughed at that. he appreciated your humor, especially with all the drama in his day to day. even in def con simp mode and being ghosted didn’t stop you from being undeniably you. that’s probably why he was as obsessed with you as you were with him.

“i know we probably have alot to discuss but todays been kind of shitty and i’d really like to explore our final fantasies”.

you snorted, “that was really bad , shig”.

he shrugged, “i’m a villain, not a comedian, beloved. “now show me that perfect little pussy”.

[stuckasmain]

Frozen empire was really good, love it being a bit more character centric. Love that again, like afterlife it keeps essential elements like the music, the logo font etc

⚠️ spoilers

Some particulars -

Ghostbusters extended lore. This franchise is for the lore and legend fans fr. Everyone’s a magic nerd and I love that but particularly the ghost research facility.

GHOSTBUSTERS LORE- specifically how they implemented old merch of the franchise and toys as stuff IN UNIVERSE. (Is the cartoon a canon cartoon just like how the movie is a movie in the cartoon?)

Opening with the Robert frost poem. Iconic.

The possessor in his little cell is so cute actually. Little guys got enrichment in his enclosure!

Lucky is iconic actually. Her comments about the grandma’s apartment absolutely kill me

Trevor.

Callie and Gary too. Their dynamic

Gary’s semi poetry reading of the ghostbusters theme song lyrics (sobbed. Similar to the reading of purple people eater in NOPE)

Phoebe basically (briefly) ending herself to try and kiss a ghost girl

Firebender vape

Peck- but specifically at the end where someone in the crowd shouts “HEY DICKLESS” or something along the lines of

Their implementation of new charecters. They did not feel forced in and didn’t overstay their welcome but also all got a little of their own development. (Would’ve liked more of Lars though)

Same with the use of legacy characters. (Winston and Janine my beloveds)

Extended time in Ray’s shop. Please let me loose in there I’ll be so normal.

[reginalusus]

I don't know if this has been asked before but what are your headcanons for Harvey and two-face? Wholesome and not so wholesome 🔞 lol

Anything they have in common, for example are they both super organized/need things a certain way? Different love languages?

🩷

Oh, boy, do I...

By the way, I ramble a lot...

So this is gonna be long post.

It's just a thing with me. Only super-cool people relate. /j

I also tend to base *some* headcanons on what is already canon, or blend them in some way, so some of this might be old news.

Oh, and I'll put a cut before the suggestive ones just so people who don't want to see that sort of stuff can safely scroll by.

EDIT: The cut does not seem to be working because Tumblr hates me so, um, WARNING FOR SUGGESTIVE STUFF.

He's 6'5". His height has fluctuated in his appearances, but I much prefer when he's taller than Bruce, such as in Telltale and BTAS. BuT a DisTRIct AtTornEY dOesN't NeE- lalalalalala, I don't careeeeeee. I like the image of him being physically imposing, not just for villainous purposes, but also to juxtapose how much of a sweetheart he is, or was. There is also another reason.

He stims with his coin. Months back I talked in length about how I think Harvey might view his coin as a way to reclaim his abuse against his father, but I also see him using it as a comfort item, as sick as it may be (considering its past), and that the constant twirling and flipping is a way for him to stim.

He loves 50s/60s music. Namely the likes of Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, Sam Cooke, Lesley Gore, Dean Martin, Roy Orbinson...

He sings! I know this is kind of canon, but that MF can sing. His Harvey voice is smooth and articulate, very vintage, meanwhile Two-Face's is, of course, raspier and almost more of a rocker's voice.

Two-Face names his guns. I've drawn some of these before, but Harvey doesn't bother with such nonsense. Harvey views weapons as a last resort; their mere existence throws justice into question. Why can someone wield such a thing that sets the odds in their favour immediately? But Two-Face knows they get the job done quickly. They're like the broom of Gotham; a quick way to be rid of the scum. So he names them, for they are beloved, much like how legendary weapons have been named in the past for what they have slain.

He dissociates/has derealization episodes. Yes, he has DID, and dissociation is in the name, but during really intense symptoms, such as his depression, paranoia and personalities all practically screaming in his head, he ends up having a bad derealization episode, much like how you would see someone have after they suffer a panic attack. His coin helps ground him.

He has definitely done that fucking pottery scene from Ghost with Gilda while she's sculpting. You know the one.

He's an elegant shooter but a brutish fighter. Not only is he a God with guns, he's also precise and elegant. But with physical combat? Brutal, much like a street fighter. I suppose both Batman and Deathstroke's training gets muddled in some ways...

His henchmen give him gifts now and then. They just do, and he doesn't understand it. Silly stuff, like bi-coloured mugs or shirts. Perhaps to keep his short-temperedness at some sort of bay. Doesn't work half the time, however.

He takes depression naps. Because of course he does. Having mental health issues is also physically taxing. I imagine he sleeps a lot, but also struggles to sleep at the same time because everything is so damn loud in his head.

He's bisexual. Gotta love both. Harvey has a preference for women, Two-Face has a preference for men.

Fussy with his suits and clothes. In The Judas Coin, we see Harvey's kind of a suit-nerd. Enough said. That MF loves to look good. Harvey loves stuff that's timeless and classic, very reminiscent of 40s/50s mafia wear, while Two-Face loves gaudy, striking stuff. They have to compromise, hence the split suits in the first place.

He doesn't like himself very much but just puts up with it. He's a walking contradiction, a hypocrite to himself. He claims to uphold the law but also bastardizes it. Also, he avoids mirrors and reflections if possible (that was something that was mentioned in his older issues, but they never brought it back, I don't think). He's smashed a mirror before, or two, or three.

He's a hopeless romantic. I've talked a little about this before, but he crushes hard, falls harder, and ever since being widowed, he pines for validation but seldom receives such because of his reputation.

He's a vintage lighter collector. He's got those S.T. Duponts and those 1970 electric Ronson's, I just know it.

Harvey constantly makes courtroom puns. Nobody laughs except Gilda.

He's an embarrassing dancer. He loves singing older tunes, but when it comes to dancing, he loves those cheesy 80 tunes. Get him drunk enough and he'll kill the dancefloor... with second-hand embarrassment.

So, I also have a lot of thoughts about The Judge too, but they're very scattershot and I'd rather compile them at another time, plus this post doesn't need to be any longer than what it is, lmao.

I also have more HCs around what he'd be like with the Batkids and Bruce, but again, this post is already long.

Ok, suggestive stuff now, and I'm going to kick it off with a hot take:

Harvey and Two-Face are monogamous. A really popular HC I've seen for Harvey is that he loves having multiple partners - two partners, of course, for each side of him. Well... I DISAGREE. /lh Personally, I think he prefers the one. He likes to purely focus on that one person and treat them like they're the only person that exists, in hope they'll do the same for him. To make him feel like he's whole; that, for once, he's not split.

Two-Face is protective and jealous. If you're out with him and he sees someone eyeing you up, out come the knuckle dusters.

He's dominant. And rough. But he'll always ask what you want; do you want to be praised or degraded while he's using you?

The coin can be fun. Sometimes he gets extremely impassioned and heated, and he just doesn't know what to do with his partner next. Good thing he has an item that helps him decide. The ambiguity of which side will turn up can add to the excitement!

Scar worship makes him melt. It just does. He hates that side of him, but seeing someone stroke or caress his scars, telling him how handsome he looks, that's a sure-fire way to send him over the edge. He'll probably fall in love.

Harvey shows love through words and actions, Two-Face shows it through gifts. Harvey will reassure his partner through words and keeping those words upheld. Meanwhile, Two-Face will corrupt his partners with gifts.

Two-Face is a bit clingy. He'll text a lot, call a lot, ask where his partner is, how they are, if they're ok. Harvey is more relaxed.

Aftercare King. He knows how strong he is and how violent (for lack of a better word) he can be. So he'll always check in with his partner to make sure they're fine.

Harvey is vocal and sappy, Two-Face isn't. Not just during the act, but afterwards. Harvey will want to cuddle, he'll want to talk over a cigarette, he wants to get to know his partner on a deeper level. Two-Face generally needs some room first. He might be a bit cold, but he'll come around.

Again, I have more in this regard, but that's what AO3 is for!

Oh, also, I saw your ask about Gerard Butler and his doggo... I agree, hehe, maybe Harvey can walk Dick's dog at some point, lol.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 9 - A meeting with ghosts

This is my longest one yet folks (don't ask, I have a problem). Was going to chop it up and make it into two, but then reasons...

Also it always bothered me that the only bits of Hamunaptra we ever got to see were the couple pillars up top and a handful of creepy caverns below. It's the fucking City of the Dead - resting place for royalty. Forgive me if I fix that oversight.

Some of this I had to look up. Some of this I'm just a nerd ^^;

The first four years of your life were spent in the fields of Buckinghamshire. 

It was an easy existence given your age, only knowing the worries of a toddler, ignorant to anything outside the little sphere your parents raised you in - until your father’s business partners convinced him to take up stakes in northern Africa. With the big archaeological boom in the early 1900’s, it made sense to cash in on the amount of trade flowing in and out of the country. 

If you thought back about it hard enough you could faintly recall the frayed edges of a memory where your father argued with your mother behind closed doors about the change, her not wanting to leave society behind and especially not wanting you to grow up away from all that in the ‘wild, bandit-infested gutters’ of lower Egypt (an awful sentiment she eventually got over after experiencing the bountiful culture firsthand).

You know from the following years that some sort of arrangement had been made that the family would travel back and forth to England often enough that would allow you a ‘proper education’ and keep your name in good standing for your eventual launch into the matching market as a teenager.

You’d been a bit too young at the time to truly understand the move, only knowing that one day everything went from mild and rainy to suddenly everything was far too sweltering and uncomfortable. Your mother plied you with all sorts of cold sweet treats at first until you inevitably adjusted to the foreign climate. But besides leaving your newly beloved cousin behind, it hadn’t really affected you in any sort of considerably extensive way. 

You longed for the meadows of your cousin’s backyard, but found beauty in the tropical fauna that now grew in your estate. There were new rules to abide by - different boundaries and regulations your parents put in place for your safety in unfamiliar territory - but once you’d learned that goats replaced pigs and that you began conversations with 'As-salaam ‘alykum' instead of 'Hello' it had been a smooth transition.

The biggest change came in the form of the towering architecture that was visible in the distance even in the middle of the city. Once you’d taken an interest as a youngling, your father allowed you to venture with him outside the walls of Cairo to see the massive monuments in person.

It was a normal occurrence to glance outside and gaze upon the remnants of Ancient Egypt. Locals hardly batted an eye at the things that dazzled the imaginations of foreign tourists - not unfeeling towards their history, merely conditioned to register it as background noise. All you had to do was travel minutes outside of Cairo proper to come face to face with the marvels that were the colossal pyramids of old. In some areas of the country you couldn’t even walk five feet without stumbling over some ancient piece of civilization or another. Sometimes they were integrated into the newly built infrastructure, others torn down and cataloged to make way for industrial progress.

This was different. These weren’t just any old dusty ruins. 

This was Hamunaptra.

Riding into the courtyard of the long forgotten city, you felt the air get pulled from your lungs as if some higher force desired this to be your final resting place.

Patting the camel’s neck in appreciation of its well fought efforts, your eyes bursting with wonderment couldn’t take the sights in fast enough to really process them. For as ancient and run down as it was, the majority of structures still standing were in impressive condition - the result of millennia hidden from the prying eyes of thieves and foreign kingdoms. The secrets of the New Kingdom were here - preserved intact - and ripe for exploration.

Replacing the pyramids of old, Hamunaptra was a sacred place where only the dead and those who kept them may enter. By all rights and customs, your head would be promptly removed from your shoulders for even daring to set foot on holy ground.

How many figures of vast importance were lying in rest less than ten meters under the topsoil? 

Ahmose I? Amenhotep I, Tuthmose II, Ramesses VII? Nefertiti?

Long have they remained hidden. Countless expeditions with thousands of pounds invested and archaeologists were still no closer to unlocking the secrets of their whereabouts than they were since we’d first learned their names.

You were yanked out of your inner musings by the clopping feet of a large animal that heralded another's arrival, adjusting in your saddle to peer over your shoulder towards the entrance and the figure that crossed over the threshold.

Johnny hadn’t even brought his mount to a full halt before he was suddenly vaulting off his camel, hardly wincing at what must’ve been a jarring impact for his knees as he quickly crossed the distance between and came up next to yours. 

Windswept hair and wardrobe; tanned skin flushed and glistening even under the newly born sun. Ocean blue orbs dazzling with mirth as he reached up with outstretched arms, fingers wiggling seductively beckoning you into his hold.

What was it that was stealing your breath again…?

Swinging a leg over the saddle, you allowed yourself to start sliding far enough down for him to securely grasp onto your waist with meaty well-worked hands, your own landing on his shoulders for a bit of balance. You wrongly assumed he’d place you back on your feet - a blind mistake, caught up in the logistics of getting down and missing the obvious moment his wide grin turned puckish. 

The two of you twirled as he kept you lifted high above his head, squealing in surprise before your own sounds of crowing delight mirrored Johnnys in both volume and excitement.

“Brilliant, lass! Pure brilliant! Left ‘em all in the dust, ye did! Thatta girl!” 

It was hard to tell if the ensuing lightheadedness was the outcome of all the spinning he had you locked into or if it was the result of something else entirely, lowering you down with powerful biceps as he planted an obnoxious kisser right on the side of your face. He was over the top with his fawning, playful in his affection in a way that felt oddly comfortable and left you in girlish giggles. “Gonna be hackin’ that outta their lungs fer weeks and spend even longer nursin’ their bruised egos. Christ, hen, ye should’ve seen yerself go.”

You pulled back from him just enough to give yourself some more breathing room, head tilted up as you responded to his praise with an insinuating remark. “Might’ve had something to do with the sudden bout of speed my camel caught on the back half. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Johnny?”

“Eh, poor thing was jus’ as excited tae reach the city as ye were is all.” The way he shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head with a devil may care grin couldn’t disguise the way he spoke with all the innocence of a sweet toothed toddler in a cookie jar.

“Causin’ trouble over there, MacTavish?!” Came the teasing call of your cousin as Kyle rounded the corner of the ruins and brought his camel up to graze alongside where the others stood in the shadow of a crumbled wall, getting down with far less hurry than the two of you had. “Gonna give poor dolly there a conniption if you keep that up.”

“Och! Haud yer wheesht, Garrick! Or ah’ll gie ye a skelpit lug fer yer troubles!” 

That may not have been the King’s English, but you’re fairly confident you understood the sentiment just the same. 

It also hadn’t passed your notice that Johnny’s arm was still firmly snaked around your waist, holding you to him with an iron grip you had no care in the world to escape.

Part of you was almost disappointed when your cousin tugged you away from him, afraid for a moment that Johnny wouldn't relinquish his claim and feeling the possessive strength in his arm up until the last possible second when he finally turned you over to Kyle. 

Swept into your cousin’s arms this time and far more delicately than his predecessor, Kyle raised an eyebrow at his friend, head perched on top of yours. “Laying it on a bit thick there, dontcha think?”

Johnny shrugged, making eye contact at where you were glancing over your shoulder at him and offering you a little wink in return. “Jus’ givin’ our girl here some well earned praise s’all.”

That shouldn’t have pleased you as much as it did. His words sent a shiver of something sinful down your spine, distracting you from the hug your cousin had you currently encased in and forcing the blood in your face to travel southward.

You missed the look Kyle gave him in response, gone and replaced with one of concern as he held you at arm’s length and gave you a thorough once over in order to better ascertain your condition. “And you, dolly? Came out unharmed?”

They had witnessed Graves lashing out at you a few minutes ago, your outcry shocking them into action that toppled him off his horse and sent him rolling hard along the packed earth. Thankfully you hadn’t been the intended target. 

You weren’t sure they’d have let him walk away without a red stain in his gut if that had been the case.

“No, he didn’t get me. The only thing he wounded was his pride.”

As if summoned by your thoughts, the man in question slunk his way along the perimeter of the city, giving your posse a wide berth as the three of you simply watched Graves meander along past with a wobble to his gait. 

Still… he kept his head held high with all the arrogance of a man too stubborn to know when he had been humbled. Grasping the reins of his horse and leaning against the animal in a weak attempt to mask his minor limp, he avoided eye contact with your group except to briefly cast you all a scathing glower tinted with defiance. There was a bite to it aimed especially at your Scottish companion, something that held the promise of things to come that Johnny gladly returned until Graves finally averted his gaze and kept on trudging.

You kept tabs on him until he wandered too far out of view, a gentle hand on your back prompting you to start walking as the rest of the rival entourage slowly trailed into the courtyard.

As the sun climbed ever higher in the early morning sky, the atmosphere amongst the gathered crowd steadied. Now that coin was no longer on the table and the winnings had been begrudgingly handed out (though not without a few snarky comments that simmered under a powder keg of explosive personalities) it was all back to business and barking out orders. 

It was clear the Americans had well funded their endeavors. The amount of workers they’d secured to excavate the site was a bit much in your opinion, but considering the mostly empty saddlebags left hanging from their mounts you imagined they hadn’t felt like dallying around longer than necessary. No, these were the types to come in and seize as much as they could with as much haste as possible in a shoddy get rich quick scheme before telling their associates back home how to make out like bandits with their own weight in gold.

The only one who seemed to actually give a damn about where they were was the older gentleman in a well tailored suit whose image didn't quite seem to gel with the scraggly unkempt mess of salt n pepper hair - their scholar, Klaus Fisker. Danish by the accent; voice as gruff as gravel. You weren’t surprised to see the chain of cigarettes attached to his lips, dropping butts on the ground and lighting another as if he hadn’t had the last one in ages. 

He felt out of place even in his own skin, but you could at least appreciate his attention to detail as he spit out commands in abrasive Arabic from behind an impressive beard, unwilling to let the hired hands do things that could jeopardize the items they were tasked with handling. 

They might be trying to rob this place blind, but at least you were assured their plunder would all make it to the auction blocks in one piece.

They’d set to sprawling out on the north side of the courtyard whilst your group took up camp in the south - enough distance between you lot that the thirty or so of you could play nice for the duration of your visit.

Johnny had moseyed off a few minutes back after assisting your cousin with the task of setting up camp - a luxury you hadn’t previously been afforded in an effort to arrive at your destination before the others. You saw to the camels' needs during that time, making sure they were well fed for their labors and removing their saddles to give them a chance to more comfortably lounge in the shade. 

Once that was done, you took to unpacking the scant items the two of them had previously procured for you, your cousin perched nearby after you’d smacked his hands away from your things to do it yourself.

“Soooo… this is the fabled city, huh?” Kyle leaned against one of the tent posts with his arms crossed, taking stock of all the hired hands clattering about doing this and that. It was obvious the Americans were wasting no time roaming around the site in search of shiny things to pawn back home.

You paid them no mind as you tended to your belongings, already mentally cataloging major structures of importance to explore and document later.

“Well, it’s called a city when in fact it’s actually a large necropolis - a burial site for the pharaohs of the New Kingdom as well as all their worldly treasures. The only living people who were allowed entry were the high priests, their acolytes, and the soldiers tasked with guarding them. Even the slaves they brought in to dig grave sites and haul antiquities were promptly beheaded upon completion so as to be sure the exact location of Hamunaptra was kept an absolute secret. Walk about two hundred paces westward outside the city walls and I’m sure you’ll find an unmarked mass grave where all their remains were dumped.”

“Sounds charming,” came the dry response as he uncorked his waterskin and took a few needed gulps, splashing some on his face for a quick reprieve from the heat, the droplets rolling down his neck to disappear under his linen shirt.

“Well, be glad you’re coming here three thousand years in the future then instead of me digging up your own grave from the past.”

“You’d miss me being your cousin too much, dolly.”

“Perhaps then the Lord could’ve instead seen fit to bless me with one a bit less reprehensible.”

“Oi!”

You couldn’t help your little grin at your own quick wit and his indignation. Unfortunately for him he didn’t get a chance to fire one back, the small banter interrupted by the return of your other companion as he sauntered his way over to stand next to Kyle.

“‘Right.” Johnny clapped his hands together, motioning over his shoulder towards a group of six workers who were starting to haul some equipment further north. “Looks like they’ve started in on clearin’ out the rubble blockin’ that great pylon o’er there. Any idea where ye’ll be wantin’ tae start, lass?”

It caught you off guard to hear yourself being the one addressed, turning your head to find the both of them staring at you expectantly as the voice of leadership. At this point you were so accustomed to them being the ones taking control and calling all the shots that you completely forgot it was you and not them who was the technical expert in this part of the operation. 

They were the ones out of their depths.

It was a realization that was equal parts terrifying and incredibly satisfying after so many days feeling like a chicken strutting around without its head.

You put yourself back in the familiar headspace needed for something like this, standing up and brushing the dirt off your palms as you briefly cased the surrounding points of interest. “I wanna take a look around on the surface first before venturing into the catacombs below. Let’s focus on getting a brief overview of the layout that we can then narrow down for later. Most of these temples and buildings should be untouched and I want to get a glimpse of them first before our ‘friends’ start ransacking everything.”

“Yer the boss, hen.” 

It was said so matter of factly and without any sort of veiled ribbing in his words. This time you were the one in control. And damn if that didn’t make you feel ten feet tall.

It felt good to finally be back in your element after days spent floundering for something sturdy to grasp onto. While you’d been growing ever more comfortable in the situations foisted upon your trio simply through trial by fire, you were finally in a happy medium between the covers of your books and the world beyond. 

It was nice not having to share the space as you made your way deeper into the city with your two self proclaimed bodyguards, unencumbered by gleaning eyes only interested in how much profit they could obtain from pocketable treasures rather than the breadth of history ripe to be storied. You could walk the worn limestone at your leisure, piecing together clues from the golden age of architecture and art. 

The perceived idiocy of it wasn’t entirely lost on you. Here you were in the grandest monument to the wealthiest peoples of both upper and lower Egypt - a discovery that could grant you as much worldly renown and untold riches as was possessed by the very kings concealed below your feet… and all you wanted to do was step through time into a piece of ancient history for the chance to waltz with the ghosts who haunt these hallowed halls.

It wasn’t some giant leap to surmise whose temple stood tall next to the towering height of the statue of Horus, not much alike in its design to the one located miles away in Edfu. Of course that one was built in the Ptolemaic Empire between ten to twelve hundred years beyond this one. Nevertheless, the structure of buildings hadn’t changed much in the ensuing millennia and you’d done enough research on both periods to be able to navigate a temple without much fuss.

You’d needed the boys' assistance to scale up the side of a toppled pillar blocking the entrance, getting a much needed boost from Kyle at the bottom as Johnny hauled you up over the top with a firm grip and steadying hand on your waist. The buildup of drifted sands on the opposite side kept you from needing any further help from them, sliding down the small slope and hesitating at the bottom in front of the main entrance. 

Gods, this was a moment to take in. 

You were almost afraid to look inward; to take that next step into untouched territory that felt more sacred than the importance you had allotted it. The first to do so since it was lost to the shifting desert hidden within a mirage. Everything was so real now there was no mistaking the gravity drawing you in - the weight of all your decisions until now leading you to the steps you weren't sure you were brave enough to take.

But remembering the tales recently come to light of a secret courage you’d discovered you’d always possessed, you allowed curiosity to lead you forward through the doorway of the temple.

…or was that the steadfast hand ghosting over the small of your back? The heat of a corporeal body stood close behind, the soft whisper of ‘go on, m'eudail…’ breathed so delicately against your ear you’d barely heard it murmured?

Who was the last man to walk through this same threshold you found yourself now stepping over? Be he priest or slave? Medjai or king? Perhaps a close relative come to pay homage to Horus before they bid a final farewell before the forever stilled body of their dearest loved one glimpsed its last at the shimmering veil of starlight above.

Your hand was shaking as you brought it to your gaping mouth, enraptured eyes pulled in every direction as you gluttoned yourself on the near perfectly preserved views. The amazed utterances of ‘steamin’ jesus’ and ‘bloody hell’ of the men were mere wisps on the wind compared to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

In your opinion one of the worst misconceptions about the Romans and the Egyptians was that they avoided the usage of color like the plague. Just because time had eroded the polished white marble and beige sandstone did not mean they hadn’t once been just as full of life as the vibrant cultures who created them. It was unfortunate that the elements washed away their former grandeur and such an important part of society's understanding of their craftsmanship.

There was no mistaking as you entered through the courtyard and into the hypostyle hall, surrounded by rows and rows of wide stone columns of staggered heights that supported the sloped roof and allowed the hall to be lit by clerestory windows. Every inch is elaborately decorated with colorful displays of pharaohs and gods and ceremonies for worship and life and funeral arrangements. They were reminiscent of the ones famously carved at the Temple of Karnak, but upon seeing how detailed and dynamic these were up close you realized just how lacking you thought the former truly was.

You weaved between pillars raking your gaze up and down, some motifs familiar while others spoke of things you hadn’t learned in your books. Perhaps they were rituals held only within this necropolis, or maybe the other outside temples had them at one point, but were lost to erosion and vandalism…

All paths lead further into the inner sanctuary - the heart of the temple and what had at the time been considered the home of the gods.

The room was deep and narrow, a beautifully preserved statue of Horus with his sacred boat placed at the end of the hall. The walls were decorated with mythology, weaving the tales of his birth from Isis and Osiris. The murder of his father by his uncle Seth and the ensuing battle between the two gods. His triumph and aftermath of their bloody escapades. The healing of his left eye by Thoth. 

If you closed your eyes you could almost smell the incense left burning at the altar, threadbare tapestry fluttering with the draft held in place by instruments of worship. There would have been chanting as high priests read from sacred texts, prayers for the dead and celebrations for their deity. 

“You wanna tell us what the hell we’re lookin’ at here, dolly?” There wasn’t any mocking in Kyle’s tone, just pure inquisitiveness at the unique carvings on all sides of the chamber.

“I could spend a very long time educating you on the importance of where we are, but I don’t think you’d appreciate it enough to spare the proper breath.” Your eyes hadn’t strayed from the intricate bas reliefs on the wall for a moment as you addressed his remark, the awe of the sight prominent in the breathiness of your vibrato. “What I will tell you is that we are in a place of great importance and that you will never find a more perfect specimen of what life looked like three thousand years ago than you are right now.”

Johnny was oddly quiet as he observed your surroundings, scrutinizing them with an eye that suggested he was giving them far more attention than someone like your cousin afforded them. Curious for a soldier and treasure hunter to take such an interest in the ancient world considering it wasn’t anything of monetary value. 

Kyle was the one who eventually spoke up about moving onto the next site, lingering back in the doorway to the chambers as you stopped in front of the falcon at the end of the sanctuary. Clasping your hands in front of your chest, you bowed your head in reverent respect for the god of the sun and prayed to him for safe passage and good fortune, thanking him for letting you all enter into his domain and promising to do no damage or harm.

Once you’d finished with your silent parting, you were surprised to lift your head and see Johnny doing the same to the right of you, eyes still closed for a few moments longer than yours until he straightened up and glanced your way, a gentle hand on your shoulder turning you towards the exit where your cousin patiently awaited.

You could’ve sworn you felt someone’s eyes on your back, watching as you made your way from the chambers and back out into the heat of the city.

Horus was not the only one you visited. There were temples of worship to most of the major gods; Anubis, Osiris and his wife Isis, Amun-Ra, Hathor, Thoth. You’d even located Ptah amongst the structures despite him having no relation to anything regarding the Egyptian life cycle as the others did. As the god of construction and craftsmanship, perhaps he had been placed there to honor the vast array of noble architecture. Or maybe the occupants of whatever nearby temporary housing complex was erected somewhere outside the city walls created it first to honor their patron deity and bring them good fortune in their hard labors. 

Whatever the reason, you’d stopped inside and paid your respects just the same.

Empty boat pits lined up alongside the major temples. Whether for the gods themselves or the ones buried beneath you couldn't say. You hadn’t expected to find one still intact unless they were buried somewhere. There were surprisingly still traces of their remains at least, Johnny lowering you down gently into the depths as you gathered small fragmented pieces of wood so brittle most of them fell apart as soon as they met the warmth of your hands.

With each new place visited the more overtaken you were with each new find. There were long stretches where you were stuck silent in reverence and others you couldn’t stop going on and on with enthusiastic exuberance, pointing out important symbols and phrasing on the walls, the significance of an animal statue or the items left discarded by the last priests to visit centuries ago.

Truthfully you were glad to have been so lost in the moment that you were incapable of giving even half a care to the well meaning snickering of your cousin as he watched you halt every few paces to gawk at the glory of a bygone civilization laid out in front of you like an open banquet. But really who was he to judge when you’d seen him turn stupid at the sight of a tall glass of expensive amber brandy?

Your infatuation was far more dignified than his liquor cabinet full of rare imported inebriation juice.

But it was all in good fun, carrying on for the majority of the morning bleeding into mid afternoon until your tired legs humbly requested a small reprieve. The boys continued to entertain your chirpings long after returning to camp, smiling at you over their cooked portions of lunch, completely enamored by the way your eyes lit up to match your grin now that you were free to be unabashedly passionate to your heart's content.

The city itself was comparable to an iceberg; for how much there was on top to explore, the real meat of Hamunaptra was underground in the vast unexplored catacombs winding miles long and spanning the full breadth of the walled area above. 

It was by mere happenstance that you stumbled upon a way down into the area beneath - quite literally. You’d felt your foot slip with a rather ungraceful startled squawk of surprise, your stomach dropping as a piece of the stone path crumbled out from under you and tried to drag you down along with it. It was only due to the quick reaction of Kyle’s hand latching onto your bicep and dragging you backwards to hold securely against his chest that you hadn’t had an untimely discovery of just how far down that rabbit hole goes.

Once you’d calmed your racing heart from the unexpected fright, you’d been ushered back away from the opening as the two of them prodded the entrance for any more structural weaknesses that might cause it to further collapse. Besides a small chunk that had already looked iffy, they deemed it safe enough to stand near as Johnny got on his hands and knees to peer into the blackness.

“Jus’ a blank void. Cannae see shite down there.” He rolled back onto the balls of his feet, resting his forearms on his knees as he turned his gaze upwards again to where you and your cousin stood. “Dunnae think this is the place tae go down, Garrick. Might have tae try somewhere further south.”

The problem was that the actual entrance to the catacombs was currently occupied by the Americans. They’d hadn’t been unwelcoming so far, but none of you necessarily wanted to test that considering the real prizes were waiting down there. And even though you were fairly confident your boys could take on more than you thought they could, you didn’t want to press your luck or ruffle any feathers - especially when said birds were equipped with firearms.

But for all you knew, there was only one way in.

The two of them debated in the background as you took a gander around the area, trying to put together why that hole was even there in the first place. The structural integrity up until now had been solid, having walked a decent chunk of the grounds in the past few hours since you’d arrived. For there to be a sinkhole when it was so impor–

Something catching at the corner of your eye had you swiveling your head, a sparkle in the sands pulling your feet in its direction while your companions remained oblivious. Tucking your skirts under your legs as you kneeled, you wiped away the sand to reveal what looked like polished hammered metal, silver glinting in the sunlight as you brushed away more and more from its surface. 

You started to gather you had a pretty good idea what this thing was doing over here.

A large round disk - heavy too as you tugged at the newly revealed edge in an attempt to tip it upright with little success. Too stubborn to ask for help, it was only once you got back onto your feet that you were able to haul it up into a position it could be balanced on its own. 

You chortled quietly to yourself as you figured out exactly how it was you were going to accomplish your task, feeling good in your cleverness and turning to see your companions still at odds with each other on the direction you all should take next. The discussion appeared to be getting rather heated from what you could tell, the two of them standing toe to toe as arms gradually became more and more animated.

It entertained you just how unaware they were of anything outside their own minor argument, watching in growing amusement as they failed to notice you and your find that would ultimately put an end to their incessant babble if they only stopped to pay attention. 

But you were burning the daylight required for this and frankly you didn't have the patience to wait for them to finish.

“Oh booooys…” You called over with a sing songy lilt, watching as they came to the sudden realization you were no longer next to them and mildly panicking before their eyes fell upon you a few meters away, leaning the large mirrored object against your legs and knocking your foot against the winged falcon at the bottom. “Would you be ever so kind enough to cease your incessant yapping and come give me a hand with this?”

While Kyle got to work securing a hefty length of rope to a nearby obelisk, you’d located another one of those mirrors a few feet away, dragging it over to position it opposite the first and tilting it in a way that the sunlight would catch on the other as well. Thankfully you had made this discovery with a few hours of daylight left to spare. Otherwise your ancient party trick would’ve had to wait until tomorrow to be shown.

Once again Johnny had wandered off unannounced, leaving you and your cousin standing around waiting for minutes longer than you would've liked only to reappear holding a pack of smokes in one hand and a bundle of cloth in the other.

Hands perched on your hips, you found yourself mildly annoyed at his little disappearing act when he was supposed to be helping out here. These mirrors hadn’t exactly been light. “That’s the second time today you’ve trotted off to nowhere without prior warning.”

Tossing the cigarettes to your cousin who gave a grateful nod, Johnny stopped a few feet away to watch you clean the dirt off the reflective surface. “Apologies, lass. Had tae take a leak.”

Ugh. Men.

You scrunched your nose up at the vulgar thought. “I did not need to know that, thank you very much.” 

Johnny shrugged, unbothered. “Ye asked.” 

The slight offense was forgotten as he held the bundle out to you, your ruffled expression dropping to one of doe eyed curiosity. 

“What’s this?” You asked even as you took it from his hands and started unravelling the cloth.

“Didnae jus’ empty mah bladder while ah was away. Took a stroll o’er tae see our American friends fer a wee chat. Bartered fer Garrick’s cigs and ah…” Johnny rubbed at the back of his neck, gesturing with his free hand at the parcel. “Ah dinnae ken how helpful it’ll be, but ah thought it couldnae hurt tae ‘ave ye be well prepped jus’ in case.”

By the time he finished speaking, you’d been staring at the items in your hands for a few seconds, dumbstruck at the professional quality of the archaeological tools you’d unwrapped. You’d had a set with you in your original belongings, but it had been old, worn down, and incomplete. Now they were mere toys for the fishies at the bottom of the Nile.

Blinking up at him, your tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of your mouth, keeping you from speaking until you forced yourself to swallow. “Thank you… truly.”

He didn’t say anything in response, just a subtle nod and a quirk of his lips before he turned and strode over to Kyle to finish helping sort things out. You watched his back and shoulder muscles untense, a swagger in his step that gave you the impression of a man content with his own workings. You couldn’t help but bite your lip with a small smile, a giggle under your breath as you examined the gift again before rolling it back up and securing it with the provided buckle.

Kyle went ahead underground, rappelling down the rope and leaving you and Johnny on the surface to eventually follow behind once it was deemed safe enough. The shadows swallowed your cousin like a hungry maw, quickly out of sight from your spot peering down despite the light being bounced into the chasmic pit. It was a few moments before he reached the bottom, the sudden jostled thudding of his boots the only indication he’d landed roughly on the ground.

“It’s bloody dark down here!” You snorted at Kyle’s muffled proclamation, Johnny joining in with his own chuckle a heartbeat later.

“Ye’ll be alright, lad! We’ll come rescue ya from the boogeyman in a jiff!”

Your cousin muttered something too faint for you to hear from above, but you had a pretty good idea as to the contents of it.

Once he got the green light from Kyle, Johnny gave the rope a quick tug to confirm it was no longer attached and began reeling the length back up so that you could go next, Johnny following up at the rear.

“Ye certainly seem tae ‘ave found yer footin’.” Having recovered from the earlier lapse in his usual personality, he was back to sounding his normal self.

You felt good about the compliment, far more at ease than you had been given the past few days. It was nice to have your countenance acknowledged as something positive for a change. 

“That’s what happens when you take a fish out of a river and toss it up a tree. It starts gasping for air and questioning its worth until it returns to its home in the water.” Stepping away from the pillar you were leaning against, you met him halfway as he approached you with the length of rope. “Survivability and exploration are part of your repertoire. This is mine.”

Johnny stepped in front of you, taking up far more of your space than was proper or necessary for him to secure the slip knot around your hips. Fronts barely brushing up against each other, round buds hardening at the teased contact. Eyes kept locked in place by the enchantment only he seemed to wield over you. Deft hands worked to tie the rope, taking special care for your safety as he gave them a harsh tug to ensure they stayed put while the two of you shared the same breath. The unexpected movement sent you stumbling into his chest, face warming at the contact mirroring the spike of heat in his eyes.

“Good tae finally see ya, m'eudail...” Fervid pools of oceanic blue scorched your insides raw until you were sure white hot flames were licking up your throat and parching your mouth dry. The twinkle in his eyes telling you he knew exactly the effect he held over you.

You’d barely managed to eke out, “...thank you for seeing me.”

There was a sort of pleased rumble in his chest before he took a step back, smothering the pyre he’d lit in your bones and tilting you off access to the point of almost stumbling forward without his presence to keep you standing. He laughed at your reaction, motioning with his hand towards the gaping pit at your feet.

“Go on then, lass. Let’s see wha’ the desert’s been hidin’.”

It wasn’t the most graceful entrance you’d ever made in your life, but eventually once you’d lessened the death grip you held on the rope and allowed gravity to assist in your descent it hadn’t taken much to get you at the bottom. Kyle had been there to keep you from landing in a haphazard heap, unlatching you from the knots so that Johnny could have a turn. 

You’d halted him from moving as you peered into the shadows, hardly able to make out anything beyond vague shapes and blindly reaching out in the very dim light. Damn thing had to be nearb–

Hands met polished metal just as expected, brushing away the cobwebs and tilting the mirrored surface to catch on the beam filtered down from up top. You smiled over at your cousin, positioning it just - “And then there was…”

Suddenly the entire chamber was awash in stolen sunlight, illuminating the room without the need for candle or torch and leaving you with a smug satisfaction at the impressed look on his face. “...light.”

“Well I’ll be… MacTavish! Get your ass down here and have a look!”

Johnny wasted no time in jumping off the edge at the urging. It had startled you to see him drop so quickly, his prior experience in the act evident with the casual confidence he rappelled down the line. Practically puffed up like a peacock once he’d straightened and saw you gawking at him, tossing you a wink that had Kyle rolling his eyes and giving you a small shove onward as the three of you began to explore your new surroundings.

“Well this is certainly what we signed up for, wasn't it?”

“A whole surface full of colorful architecture and you’re most thrilled by an embalming room?” You shot over your shoulder at him from where you examined the small animal heads on a few nearby jars.

“Embalming?” Came the quizzical response from your cousin, retracting his hand from whatever container he’d been poking at on one of the nearby shelves.

It hadn’t taken much sleuthing on your part to deduct that conclusion. The tables arranged in rows throughout the chamber, large earthen pots along the walls smelling of faint rot, rolls of fragile linen stacked on shelves. The scent of palm wine and salt masked under all the muskiness.

“For the afterlife, dearest cousin.” There was a small smile on your face as you spoke to him with mild patronization. “This was the preparation room.” 

Pointing over at one of the stone tables closest towards him, you could almost make out the dark splotches of bloodstain hidden under the thick layer of dust.

“If you’d have died three thousand years ago and were wealthy enough to afford it, a chief embalmer wearing a mask of Anubis would have laid your corpse atop that table, gutted you like a pig, scooped out your insides, scrambled your brain with a hot poker, and then placed your internal organs inside one of these,” you held up an empty canopic jar you’d been inspecting that would’ve held a liver, “before smothering you in natron for forty days until you were a dried out husk of a man ready to be wrapped up in linen and packed away in a pretty colored box.”

“Mummies, Garrick.” Johnny gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder, softening the sting with a gentler one as he brushed past. “Good ol’ mummies.”

“It’s a wonder your mum ever let you study this shit in the first place...” Kyle remarked as he glanced down at the same spot you’d been looking, sidestepping the table as if there was fresh viscera still dampening the stone.

“I won’t tell her what was in those books if you don’t,” you added with a little dark humor before placing the container back where you’d found it, gaze raking over the rest of it as you moved through the room and out into the hallways beyond. 

Away from the clever structure of the mirrors there was at last a need for torchfire, your two companions holding one alight each as they took up the front and rear of your little group, sandwiching you between with Kyle taking up the lead. The air was stale down here, a constant itch at the back of your throat that travelled into your lungs with every breath. The corridors were sloped at the sides, thick cobwebs dangling like vines covering almost every inch of their surface. You made sure to keep your footsteps in the middle of the path, not wanting to accidentally back up into one and getting them all over your skin.

It impressed you how the pair of them communicated, speaking reminiscent how they might’ve clearing a battlefield rather than exploring ancient caverns. They parroted directions back and forth to each other, somehow keeping track of where you were long after you’d been able to keep up with the twisting path ahead. You passed by small antechambers filled with various supplies, assuming wherever you’d popped in was less a part of the tombs themselves and more the storage areas for the priests.

Eventually the walls started looking a little less run down and a little more smooth, empty metal brackets for holding wooden torches poking out of the stone. Whoever put this place together seemed to have taken a little more care in this section.

You found yourself pausing in front of another entryway, staring down a dark corridor with sconces lining either side. For all intents and purposes it wasn't anything remarkable; it didn’t stand out really from any of the others you’d passed by this point. It was just the first to look like someone had taken more care with the cut of the stone.

“Spy somethin’, lass?” 

You were vaguely aware of Kyle halting up ahead, backtracking as you reached out for Johnny’s torch that he willingly passed over.

“I just want to take a quick look down this one…” Your feet were already moving even as you spoke, lighting the sconces you passed with the weight of something in your chest tugging you forward. The walls were bare save for the oil lamps, but there was a subtle slope to the floor that led you downward and piqued something in the back of your mind.

About fifteen or so meters later, you found yourself standing inside an antechamber that was sparsely lined around the perimeter with only a few tables full of valuable artifacts. 

“More storage?” asked Johnny, skimming over the objects laid out on a table shaped like a…

…wait.

That wasn’t a table. It was a curved bed frame made up of the elongated bodies of two lionesses. 

Suddenly, everything clicked. 

You scrutinized the objects more closely, the cogs turning rapidly in your head as your eyes widened further with every new find. A painted wooden chest. A stool overflowing with sandals. Shabti dolls tossed haphazardly onto a thin lumpy mattress.

You bolted through the open doorway to your right, the other two shouting after you as you came to a halt inside the next room, torch clattering to the floor at the sight you took in. 

It wasn’t as grand as the pictures you’d seen of others like it elsewhere - certainly not possessing the same majesty or opulence as that of King Tut or Ramses IV. The room itself was small by comparison, not surprising considering the size of the annex you just exited and its meager furnishings. There hadn't been as much thought or care in the scenery depicted on the walls. But there was still a subtle elegance to its design that hinted at someone more important and incorporated all the way down to the large stone sarcophagus in the middle of the room.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Johnny might as well have not said anything for all the good it did reaching your ears, drowned out as white noise as all your attention was pinpoint fixated on the large box in the center.

You couldn't believe it. You could not believe it. Forget every moment that ever came before this because there was no way in hell it could ever live up to the overwhelming well of emotions bubbling up to the surface threatening to overflow from your tear ducts.

Was this how Howard Carter felt the first time he laid eyes on the burial chamber of Tutankhamun? Did he have to remind himself to manually breathe so as not to pass out? Did he yell and rejoice or just stand there in abject shock the way you did now? Was this figure nobility or just of high station? 

Whose golden death mask laid in wait inside the coffin housing it?

On newborn foal limbs you slowly approached the stone sarcophagus, ignoring the babble going on between the others and the questions being lobbed your way. Your vision was blurry enough from unshed tears that you were having a hard time making heads or tails of the hieroglyphics adorning the box, eyes frantic for the cartouche that would reveal everything.

You at last found the oval, tracing over every symbol until your brain supplied you with the accurate translation.

“Hatshepsut.”

This was Hatshepsut.

Wife of Thutmose II. Fifth Pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty. Egypt's second queen regent.

Six inches in front of you.

Johnny stepped up beside you, making his own assessments from the various artwork sprawled across every corner of the room. “Gonna take a gander that’s someone important?”

That was a massive understatement. “Ruler of Egypt for twenty two years, one of the most prolific builders in all of history, responsible for the Temples at Karnak, Pakhet, and the masterpiece that is the Djeser-Djeseru. Peace and prosperity flourished under her rule and she was lauded for re-establishing vital trade routes previously lost to war and conflict.”

It was the first time since entering the chamber that you looked somewhere other than the coffin, meeting his gaze with the still wide eyed one of your own. “Yes, Johnny. She’s important.”

“But we already found her husband, yeah? So why wasn’t she buried with him in the Valley of the Kings?” Honestly you were going to have to give your cousin more credit for all the things he picked up on through the sheer osmosis of growing up in your vicinity.

“There were rumors that her stepson Thutmose III held resentment for her after the two of them became co-regent towards the end of his father’s reign. Politically he would have been afraid of being seen as the lesser candidate to succeed his father’s throne considering his young age. There’s documentation of how he tried to belittle Hatshepsut’s accomplishments throughout his life and many believe he was the one to deface and try to destroy most records of her from the history books.” 

The destruction of her statues, the erasure of her name from chiseled walls; there was a great deal of work that went into trying to keep her from being remembered. “He must've honored her enough as a ruler to bury her with dignity, but not enough to place her somewhere she would be found.”

Here amongst the other hidden kings of old.

“Makes you wonder who else is buried down here…” Kyle motioned over to another doorway on the eastern wall of the chamber, already inching towards it in curiosity. “Think we’ll find another one through here?”

“Unless there was a sudden fashion for corpses getting dipped in pure gold a few millennia back I doubt you’ll come upon one in the treasury room.” 

“No.” The way his eyes lit up was positively cartoonish, shaking his head with a cautious hurry to his steps almost as if he suspected you were pulling his leg, only to pause in the doorway not unlike you had when you’d first entered the burial chamber. The moan that left his lips was practically lewd as he supported his weight against the frame, taking in whatever he’d discovered out of view that had him practically buckling at the knees. “Christ, I'm about to be rich…”

Johnny rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation, the jovial smirk on his face betraying his fake ire at your cousin's inflated antics.

“Pump yer cock tae the trove some other time. Best be crackin’ on if we wanna keep makin’ progress before sundown.” Softer to you he added, “We’ll come back again, lass. There’s still plenty more explorin’ tae be had down ‘ere, aye?”

You knew you couldn’t linger here forever. And whether you’d return to this place or not she would have plenty of visitors soon enough. Now that you’d proven Hamunaptra’s existence there'd be historians and archaeologists flooding to the site in droves to get a glimpse of this lost piece of history and those inside it.

She wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

Resting your forehead against the cold stone lid of the sarcophagus, you imagined the person lying reposed within; the life she would have lived and the people who’d come to care for her even long past expiration. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to connect with the spirit on the other side, whispering words of gratitude and comfort to the soul at rest. “We didn’t forget. The world still knows your name, and we are all the more better for you having existed. May you forever find peace in the Field of Reeds, Pharaoh.”

It was only then that you allowed yourself to be led out of the room, casting one last glance over your shoulder to the figure sleeping peacefully in a tomb fit for a queen.

It was hard to shake off the emotions of witnessing the final resting place of such a great and powerful woman, constantly straying back to it as the three of you continued forward with your current venture. At this point you weren’t sure what discovery could possibly be better than rediscovering the body of a three thousand year old pharaoh, but far be it for you to call it a day when the other pair seemed so eager to continue.

Heads whipped upwards and the three of you froze, the sudden sound of dozens of chittering things scurrying overhead, torches raised to illuminate the ceiling in search of the source only to come up empty. You couldn't tell if that was a relief or if that only added to your paranoia.

“Must be movin’ inside the walls...” Johnny’s murmurings didn't do much to ease your nerves, not exactly a fan of creepy things with multiple tiny legs crawling around where you couldn't see. Hair stood on end and goosebumps ran the length of your spine, scooting just a tad bit closer to the Scotsman as you carried on with your journey.

The tunnels narrowed to an almost claustrophobic size, the lot of you having to duck your heads to avoid hitting them on the carved rock. Cobwebs dangled in front of your face, having to constantly bat them away to keep from accidentally inhaling them into your mouths. The passage went on and on without any sign of any other rooms, apparently having taken a wrong turn somewhere further back that led away from the royal wing and onto wherever the hell you’d ended up now.

“Maybe we should turn back?” You suggested at one point, only to be shot down by the others.

“Don’t worry, dolly.” Kyle placed a placating hand on your arm, a warm smile helping to ease the worries of your mind. “We’re not gonna get lost. Got the way out right up here.” He tapped on the side of his head for emphasis, apparently confident in his abilities to get you back to the embalming room safely.

“And when he inevitably screws it all up then ye have me who actually remembers.” The cough you spluttered wasn’t enough to hide the chuckle from Johnny’s words, laughing in earnest as your cousin walked up to him and tried to wrestle him into an easy headlock. It warmed your heart to see them so spirited and boyish with one another, a gentle reminder that there were still kind souls within that hadn’t been completely hardened by a life of brutality.

It took a few more turns until you finally arrived at an area big enough for you all to stand in at your full height. It was a bit surprising when you realized the carved bottom half of a human was completely obstructing the way forward, a thick stone platform embedded in the floor from where the statue must’ve fallen through from the world above.

Kyle recognized it the same time you did, bringing his torch up to inspect the dark coloration of the stone that matched the upper portion in the courtyard. “Huh. The legs of Anubis. Well it looks like we’ve found where the rest of the statue went.”

“Was wondering why the Bembridge scholars said it was a full body sculpture...” You were fully aware of the contents supposedly held inside the base, recalling the conversation you’d had with Johnny on the boat a few days back when he’d wrongfully accused you of only being out here for the money. 

“Well, here you go, mister treasure hunter.” The hem of your skirt flared out as you turned on your heels to face Johnny, one hand on your hip with the other pointing behind and a grin on your tilted head. “You wanted something for your troubles? Here’s your chance - the Book of Amun-Ra. Should be a secret compartment somewhere in there if you want to take a whack at it.”

He flashed his canines at you, a sweaty arm brushing up against yours as he walked up to the base and started reaching for the bag slung over his shoulder. “Dunnae mind if ah do.”

The droning of garbled voices from somewhere nearby gave you all pause, already on edge from the mysterious bug encounter earlier and the overall eerie quality of the catacombs. The atmosphere in the group shifted as Kyle motioned for you to press up against the statue. Handing over his torch the same time Johnny set his on the ground, both reached into their respective holsters and withdrew their firearms, hammers pulled back and pistols at the ready.

The droning grew louder and louder, breaths steadying in anticipation of whatevers approach. Johnny giving Kyle a quick nod of unspoken agreement as the two darted out from behind the statue–

Ten loaded pistols aimed right at each other's faces from both sides as the two groups found themselves engaged in a standoff. The hired workers squirmed antsily behind the American’s, you holding out your own torch as if it would do anything against a loaded gun.

Roze was the first to cut the tension, a wobbly frustration to her voice. “Sweet Jesus, you tryin’ to turn us into mummies too, gents?”

Guns lowered slowly to their owner's sides as everyone breathed a sigh of relief, all of you apparently on the same wavelength that this place was starting to mess with your heads.

“Maybe don’t make a habit of sneakin’ up on people and you won't get shot,” Kyle snarked back with a quiet huff.

A greasy pit dropped in the middle of your stomach upon noticing Graves amongst their team, mood turning sour as he opened his mouth with that stupid patronizing tone of his. “Well maybe if you boys learned to keep your noses out of where they don't belong you too might find yourselves living a little longer.”

“Hey,” came the confused voice of Hutch from the back, stepping forward from the group as he gestured towards the bundle of tools wrapped in your arms, “hey, that’s my toolkit!”

Johnny didn’t let him any closer than that, raising his pistols again which immediately prompted the other trigger happy morons to do the same. “Think yer mistaken there, lad. That there’s hers.”

Hutch was smart enough to retreat back to his spot, taking one look at your Scottish friend and rethinking his life choices. “Must be... my mistake...”

“Enough of this!” shouted one of the others, Oz motioning with his head to move out of their way. “This here’s our territory. Go run along and look somewhere else.”

“Claimed it first, mate.” The toothy smile on your cousin’s face was a mask for the slithering creature under his skin preparing to strike, given away only by the deadness in his eyes. “Might want to reconsider your next move if you don’t want to join these poor sods here in the afterlife.”

Graves was more than happy to take the bait, a mocking sneer hidden behind an amused chuckle. “Would ya look at that. Pretty boy Garrick here thinks he still has the guts to go toe to toe even after high tailing it away from that fight in Turkey.”

“Ye shut yer mouth, Graves!” Johnny barked straight venom, raising his voice as the muscle in Kyle’s jaw jumped, grip only tightening on his loaded firearm. 

“Woah there!” Graves continued to antagonize from behind spiked teeth. “Down, boy! Someone outta put a leash around your neck and remind you of your place.”

The tension in the room was growing exponentially at a rate you weren’t sure could be interrupted anymore, mind scrambling for anything to diffuse the situation before someone pulled a trigger that couldn’t be undone. Twenty five of them against three– two of you. Those weren’t odds you were willing to chance.

It was by sheer luck you heard the shifting of sand under your feet, daring a glance down at the floor to watch a pebble disappear through a crack and revealing a chamber below. If the statue of Anubis was wedged deep into the floor… then maybe…

The next thing you did was possibly the stupidest move of your entire life.

You walked out in front of ten loaded guns.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please.” One by one you began lowering the barrels, the shaking in your hand the only thing giving away the nerves underneath so eloquently masked by the English charm of your disarming smile, the perfect picture of ladylike decency in a room full of missing manners.

Ignoring the heated looks your companions sent your way in favor of focusing on the unruly Americans, even Roze seemed to fluster from such a rapid change in atmosphere. “There’s no need for such excitement. You’re all men of intellect here. Surely you wouldn’t let yourselves be overcome by a bit of schoolyard slander.” 

They all glanced between each other in conflicted confusion, not sure what was happening but unable to summon the emotional intelligence to deal with the situation. The secret to breaking a man - fluffing their egos while simultaneously giving them a dressing down. 

“Now,” you continued, satisfied when their postures relaxed and their weapons were no longer facing each other, “since we all learned how to share when we were younger, I don’t see anything wrong with letting you fine folk get to work on this statue here.” You finally met the stern gazes of your companions, secretly pleading with your eyes for them to go along with what it was you were saying. “There are other places to dig…”

A few tense moments passed before Johnny lowered his pistols and offered you his hand, sending one more scathing look at the others before leading you from the room with Kyle at the rear.

“Happy digging! And best of luck!” You shouted with a good natured wave to the other group, flashing them one more smile before being tugged out of view around the next corner. It wasn't until you were far enough out of earshot that he relented his tight grip.

Your back met the wall behind you, startling a gasp from your lips as Johnny suddenly crowded you against it with a simmering expression and a finger in your face. “Donnae ever do that again, lass! Do ye have any idea what would’ve happened if one of those triggers slipped?!”

His anger had never been directed your way before, just as intense as every other emotion he’d always expressed. Johnny didn’t know how to do things by halves and that was evident in the way he processed feelings as well. It tore at your chest, the rage in his eyes burning holes in your heart that left you aching and blind to see it for what it really was. 

The cool confidence you’d pretended to exude earlier fell away under his harsh judgment, the girl underneath who’d been terrified for her friend's safety and only wanted to help revealed underneath. You tried to shrink back from his gaze as far as the space would allow - which in reality was practically nothing. The stinging behind your eyes, the flood of emotions rising to the surface from the earlier threat of confrontation combined with this unanticipated lambasting left you shaking.

You tried to explain. “T-There’s a chamber underneath that room. If we can find a way down then we can try to bust our way up from the bottom. W-We can steal the treasure right out from under their noses.”

“I dunnae care what yer reasonin’! That was naive and foolhardy and ye know damn well better than tae put yerself in harm’s way like that! Ye could’ve been shot! You could’ve–!” He cut himself off with an infuriated growl, hands slamming into the wall beside your head as his own bowed forward. For a moment you thought Johnny would continue with his admonishing tirade, huffing out a breath like an enraged bull as fingers dug into the stone.

You held as still as you could, unable to turn away from the penetrative orbs searching through your soul. Something must’ve shone in your watery eyes that brought him out of the ‘what ifs’ and back into the here and now, stare softening into weariness as he leaned the last bit forward to rest his head on top of yours with lidded eyes.

You didn’t know what to make of it as you stood trapped between him and the wall, listening to his soothing baritone as he began murmuring something soft in his native tongue. You weren’t sure if he was speaking to himself or to you, but it had the effect either way of settling most of your nerves like you would a frightened animal. Gentle lips pressed a kiss to the top of your head, pulling back to look you in the eyes with a grounding weight before quietly uttering, “C'mon, lass. Let’s go find ye that room.”

Where Johnny was a flintlock, Kyle was a smoldering ember.

He said nothing as Johnny led you all through twisting catacombs, following some unknown path he’d mapped out in his head that he assured should lead you all to the level below. The silence from your cousin was deafening, hurting just as much as Johnny’s earlier explosion but cutting far deeper. The fact that he hadn’t spoken up when you were being manhandled only confirmed to you how pissed he must be.

Keeping your voice low despite the close quarters ensuring the conversation wouldn't be private anyways, you finally summoned enough courage to address the man following behind you.

“Are you just going to keep being mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.”

The breath you exhaled was loud as you halted your movement, forcing Kyle to come to a quick stop so as not to run into your back. “You could at least have the decency not to lie to me.”

“Not lying. We need to keep moving…” It wasn’t ‘dolly’ he said at the end there. It was your real name.

That’s how you knew you fucked up.

Turning on your heel, you instantly hated the unphased expression he wore, wishing he would just snap at you the way Johnny did so that you could get it over with already. But no. That wasn’t Kyle’s style. He let his anger fester under his skin and rot away at his internal organs until you could see the decay in his eyes.

You were gonna have to push him. 

Thankfully your other companion had sensed the impending conflict and kept moving farther down the hall to grant the two of you a bit of space. “Over two decades of hanging around each other and you think I don’t know just how much you want to throttle me for what I did back there?”

“You’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions.”

“And as we’ve already established it was a stupid one and I deserve to get a scolding.”

“Johnny did just fine with his version.”

“You’re not Johnny.”

“The accent give that away?” 

Damn it, this was getting you nowhere.  “What gave it away was that he has enough emotional intelligence to get his rage out instead of letting it systematically destroy him.”

A vein twitched in Kyle's forehead, the only tell you’d hit a nerve. Perfect.

“If I had a problem I’d say something about it.”

“If that was the case then you wouldn’t have spent all these years burying your problems at the bottom of a bottle!”

That hadn’t at all been the sentence you'd meant to say, immediately regretting the spewed out words as soon as they left your lips. Kyle's eyes narrowed down to slits, his jaw clenching and muscles bulging in his arms where hands formed into tight fists. God, this was not the time nor place for this conversation.

“How I choose to spend my time is none of your business!”

Hurt mixed with outrage as you took a step toward him and shouted right back in his face, rare tempers flying on both sides. “It is when I have to sit and watch my cousin waste away every night in a bar because he refuses to open up to the only family he has left!”

His scoff was mean, but the red bleeding into his dark brown eyes wasn't from anger. “You think I'm gonna subject the person I love most to every terrible thing I've ever done? The horrors I've had to witness? You think I'm gonna willingly tell you just how much of a fucking monster your cousin has become?!”

“Yes, you asshole! Because I fucking forgive you!”

There was stillness in the corridor. Chests heaved with shallow breaths; words hung suspended between you. Droplets fell to the parched earth beneath your feet as you shed tears enough for the both of you.

Too long had you watched your cousin suffer under the weight of his own choices. 

No more…

“Just because I didn't have to fight in it doesn’t mean I went untouched by the war! None of us did!” Arms spread wide as you bore your own grieving soul in hopes he’d finally let you see his. 

“We were the ones keeping things afloat while the men in our lives left to serve king and country. We were the ones bent over the toilet violently shaking and throwing up every time the postman came, never knowing if the next letter we received was going to begin with the words ‘we deeply regret to inform you’. We were the ones who had to deal with the aftermath of our soldiers returning home from distant fields - changed, violent, distant men. I saw the boys I danced with take their own lives because they couldn’t stand the nightmares that plagued them even years later and hundreds of miles away from the trenches!” 

You would never know what it looked like to see a man with his intestines pouring out of his gut or a decapitated body from where a canon blew it clean off. You would never have to look a man in his eyes as you became responsible for the way the light slowly left them. But that did not mean you didn't know suffering in your own valid way.

“So I don’t care what you had to do over there to come back home to me. I don’t care that there’s blood on your hands that will never wash away. Tell me you strangled a man with those bare hands. Tell me you relished in committing heinous acts of torture. Tell me you stayed in the military far past your original enlistment date just because you realized you found something you were both good at and fucking enjoyed. I don’t fucking care! It was war, Kyle! And whatever it was you had to do was done in order to stop the other monsters - the real ones who didn’t feel remorse for the countless lives they've destroyed - from reaching our shores and doing far worse to people like me than you did to them. You think you don’t deserve to be here for what you’ve done? You think you’re beyond forgiveness? Well guess what? I forgive you! Be a monster for all I care! Just fucking let me in!”

It was the first time your cousin cried since the death of your parents, standing there like a marble statue as it poured over his face like rivers. You could tell he grappled with the vulnerability of your words - the permission being granted to share his pain and trauma with an understanding soul.

You reached out for Kyle the same time he did, crashing together in an embrace that left you even more raw and torn open than before. His iron grip on the back of your head and banded around your waist kept you locked against him, hair dampening with tears matching the ones you were leaving on his shirt, face buried in his chest with your arms clamped around his broad torso.

You’d tried to have this talk with him in the years prior, but each attempt ended in failure either with him shutting you out from the start or you were just too scared to dredge up feelings in the first place. You promised yourself never again would you stand by while the people most important to you suffered - whether by their own actions or any outside force, including you.

“Supposed to be brave for you, dolly…” The strained voice came muffled against your scalp.

“And I was a stupid little girl who didn’t want to see her two favorite people in the whole world end up with bullet holes in their heads. We’ve both made mistakes. No more pushing me away because of them, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He squeezed you extra tight, pressing a firm kiss to the side of your head before finally relinquishing his grip to smooth away the tear tracks from your cheeks. You returned the favor in kind, your fingers lacing with his as the two of you turned to glimpse the last of your trio waiting patiently at the opposite end of the hallway.

Johnny hadn’t said anything the entire time the two of you were duking it out. He merely stood watch as a silent sentinel, his added presence a not uncomfortable witness to the long overdue confession. His gaze lifted from the floor at your approach, heavy with understanding and weighted with something glistening of his own. It wasn’t until you got close enough that it was replaced by a familiar sparkle that spoke well before his mouth did, pushing off from the wall he’d been leaning against and coming to stand directly in your way.

“So… ah’m one of yer favorites now, eh?”

The loud groan of annoyance from Kyle was echoed by the exasperated sigh from you. The playful shove you gave him had you grateful for his constant ability to so easily lighten a heavy mood, feeling like everything would eventually - in time - be alright again.

“Shut up, Johnny.”

Something you hadn’t anticipated in your ‘brilliant plan’ was the fact that the ceiling above would be so damn high, the tools the boys brought with just barely out of reach even for their six foot something statures. The idea was briefly put on hold as they went off to search any nearby rooms for something that could support their weight, returning a short while later dragging a couple decorative jackal statues on small platforms. 

You didn’t want to know whose tomb they’d raided for those, hoping you weren’t offending the dead too terribly badly.

“The statue of Anubis should only be a few feet above us now. So long as we’ve landed in the right area we should come up right between his legs.”

Dirt rained down on the group, the loud clunk of mining tools a steady beat chipping away at the sand and stone above. It was a real effort to keep your eyes on the ceiling so as not to be constantly admiring the flexing of a certain Scotsman’s beefy biceps and corded hairy forearms every time he swung his heavy hammer.

Johnny paused in his endeavors for a quick breather, glancing in your direction and accidentally catching you in one of your rare moments of weakness. Tossing you a quick wink with a knowing smirk, he rolled out the stiffness in his joints from craning his neck before resuming the task at hand. 

Meanwhile you had to act like you weren’t ready to spontaneously combust from the mortification of having been found practically drooling.

“Ye sure we’re gonna find this secret compartment this way?” Johnny coughed as a dusting of sand accidentally fell into his mouth.

To be honest: you weren’t. But at the very least it gave you a chance rather than letting the others be the only ones having a go at snatching it.

“Don’t worry, MacTavish,” chimed in your cousin, grunting with the exertion of swinging his pickaxe. “We’ll get to it before those beastly Americans do and then we’ll have even more riches to rub in Grave’s ugly mug.”

The pair took out their aggressions for the next few minutes, pausing only briefly here and there, driven by the need to reach the golden book before the team up top. The item in question hadn’t been the reason you’d started this expedition - that honor still belonged to the discoveries you’d made thus far - but you couldn’t deny there was a certain allure to it now, whether because of the knowledge it might contain or some sense of competition evoked in you by the two men banging away at the ceiling. 

A loud rumbling drew your eyes upward, the boys halting their movements with quizzical brows as they glanced between each other and the spot they’d been carving away at, hesitant to take another swing. The noise went on for a few moments longer, sounding far bigger than it had any reason to before disappearing a few seconds later.

Even still, everyone remained on edge. “The whole thing isn’t gonna collapse down on top of us… right?”

“Nah. Ah’m sure it’s jus’–”

Johnny didn’t get to finish that sentence before the sound came back with a thundering vengeance, clamorous enough to make you flinch back and reverse your steps in the opposite direction of the now growing crack opening up in the ceiling.

Kyle’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, violently smacking his friend’s arm as dirt rained down on top of them and something started to violently burst through. “Back up, back up!”

They dove off their platforms just in the nick of time, barely avoiding a deadly catastrophe while you stood stunned pressed against the far wall of the chamber as an enormous stone box broke through with a resounding CRACK and crashed to the floor in a heap, taking up almost the full width of the room.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” Johnny groaned out from the dirt, bringing himself to his feet and assisting Kyle in doing the same from where the two of them had rolled out of the way to keep from being pancaked.

Once the dust kicked up had settled, you slowly approached the box, recognizing it for what it was and glancing up at the sizeable hole from where it’d fallen through. “A sarcophagus… buried at the feet of Anubis…”

“The hell they do something like that for?” Kyle was still gawking at the exposed stone on the ceiling, partially to check if anything else was about to topple down with it.

You could only imagine the reasoning behind doing something like this. After all, the ancient Egyptians weren’t exactly known for this kind of unorthodox burial. 

“I honestly don’t know. I can only assume that this person was either someone of great importance, or alternatively…” and you were really banking on it being the former, “they did something entirely unforgivable.”

The whole thing was covered in a thick layer of dust and sand, settled after millennia of being buried and obscuring any and all writings. Using your hands only seemed to smear it, forcing you to pull out your new archaeological equipment as you began brushing away the film coating every inch of its surface, searching for any kind of markings that could be used as an identifier for the figure inside. 

But there was nothing written along the sides as one might see on the tombs of pharaohs and high priests. Why give a man the honor of resting at the feet of a god for all eternity only to tell us nothing about him?

Whistling for your attention, Johnny pointed to a small section he cleared away at the top of the box with his hands, visible indents still obscured by tiny grains of sand. You moved your brush over the area, sweeping away the dirt gathered in the cracks keeping you from reading any of the rather roughly carved hieroglyphics. You’d expected to find a cartouche at the very least, but this… this was not that.

“He… that shall not be named.”

But… but that didn’t make any sense. If they weren’t going to tell us who he was then why even bother giving him a title in the first place? Who was this man to be hated so much that the high priests reduced his very existence down to unspeakability?

Something wasn’t right here.

Your arm bumped against a raised texture just below the symbols, glinting metal embedded in the sarcophagus that once cleaned out revealed an eight pointed star with a scarab at the center.

Kyle ran his fingers over the serrated edges, glancing over at Johnny as the two of them tried to work the problem. “Feels sturdy; built into the container, not just slapped on top. Some sort of locking mechanism?”

“Could be. The hell kinda key looks like that, though?”

An enraged voice shouts from the recesses of your mind, flashes of glinting metal threatening your neck and impatient eyes belonging to a man you encountered not three days past: "THE KEY!"

That's when it hit you. The robed men, the attack on the boat, the key, the eight sided container burning a hole in your mind.

The box.

You scrambled for the bag you carried with you, digging around in one of the exterior pouches before emerging with the little metal box that started this whole adventure in the first place.

“Thought that’s empty.” Kyle looked at it with a tilted head and a raised brow, wondering if you’ve by chance gone off your rocker in your current frenzied state.

“It is,” you confirmed, flipping the item around in search of that tiny pressure plate, “but that’s not the point, dear cousin. The point is… Aha!”

The box sprung open with a click, the top unfurling into a recognizable shape as your two companions eyes flashed in understanding.

“...that I have a better memory than you.” You gave him a cheeky grin overflowing with smugness as you tipped the box upside down, placing it against the symbol where it slotted in perfectly into the eight pointed star. 

Johnny squeezed you against his side in a one armed hug, an enthusiastic kiss to your temple that had you giggling. “Lookit our clever lass, aye Garrick.”

Kyle didn’t get a chance to respond. 

Agonized screaming filled the air, blood curdling and twisted and gripping into your very core. It was a primal sound of torture, cutting into your soul and filling you with abyssal dread that left you feeling white as a ghost. 

The boys made haste in rushing out the open doorway, you trailing along behind them as Kyle held an arm out to block you from potential danger. You weren’t prepared for the sight of a man you didn’t recognize flailing about and crashing down the corridor, nails clawing into his bald scalp leaving rivulets of blood soaking his skin. 

His brutal screams of everlasting torture rang out like a cathedral bell as he ran headlong past you, unseeing or uncaring as he flailed violently, repeatedly bashing his head against the wall and leaving a red gory mess in his wake. 

Johnny almost moved to stop him until the stranger suddenly collapsed in a heap on the floor, back cracking and arching off the ground in an almost inhuman way as his fingernails dug deep scratches into the earth. Eyes bugging out of his head, mouth open in a garbled choked off scream, limbs twitching and spasming until - eventually - they moved no more.

You were getting far too used to seeing corpses…

No one fought Johnny when he made the executive decision of being done for the day, the sweet taste of discovery turned to rot in your mouth at the unexpected turn the evening had taken. 

You'd seen men struck down right in front of you that night on the ferry, blood staining the carpet of your stay rooms and the polished wood of the upper deck. But they had been bad men doing horrible things and deserved not one ounce of pity for their fates. This however had been on the other end of the spectrum. That man hadn’t suffered for any crimes he’d committed - he'd merely suffered. And that to you was more disturbing than watching the man who tried to cause you harm take a bullet between the eyes.

Your trio emerged from the darkness of the catacombs up into star speckled nightfall. Kyle stayed behind to fill the other team in on the details of what just transpired with one of their workers while Johnny escorted you back to the opposite side of the courtyard. 

He sat you down on the laid out rugs in front of the blackened firewood, striking the kindling with a match as the dry pieces of timber quickly set ablaze. Digging into one of the nearby bags, Johnny carefully draped a blanket over your shoulders before quietly taking a spot at your side.

“Thank you...” The voice that came out from your lips was smaller than you might’ve liked, very telling of your current delicate psychological condition. Even with the added heat it wasn’t enough to take the chill off your bones.

It took you a few breaths to bring up the question you didn’t really want to know the answer to. “What do you suppose killed him?”

The arm that had been around you earlier for your cleverness returned now for your comfort. “Dunnae ken, lass. Must’ve been somethin’ with his head the way he was holdin’ it screamin’ like that. Seizure maybe?”

It was at that point that Kyle rounded the other side of the tents, an unlit cigarette already wedged between his teeth as he struck a match and raised it to the tip, tossing it somewhere in the sand before joining the two of you on the rugs.

“Got confirmation that the man was indeed one of theirs. Going back to retrieve the body now. Poor buggers just can’t seem to catch a break.” Kyle muttered with a tired groan as he sunk into the blankets next to you, leaning back on his elbow and exhaling a billow of smoke skyward.

Seemed like there was an awful lot of that going around since this whole trip started. “More bad news?”

“Only if you were one of the blokes that went and got himself melted today.”

Johnny scoffed, tossing another piece of kindling on the flames. “Yer bum’s oot the windae.”

“Swear to god, mate. It’s true. You can go ask them yourself.” He motioned over to the north where the other party had taken up camp. “Lost three of their workers opening up that compartment we almost had our own hands in. Soon as the lid was popped, poof!”

You flinched away from his animated arm gestures miming an explosion, the mental image that brought to mind combined with the screams of the deceased man from earlier making you shrink inward on yourself and pull the woven blanket tighter around you as if the thin barrier would protect you from the outside world.

“Hydrochloride then,” your Scottish companion muttered, a soothing hand beginning to rub large circles on your back at your obviously perturbed expression. It helped even if only a little bit.

Your cousin made a small hum in agreement at Johnny's conclusion before taking another drag. It was painfully obvious you were out of the loop concerning that information, wondering what it was they apparently knew regarding the matter that you didn’t.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that term…” You trailed off, looking between the two of them for some sort of explanation.

Kyle piped up with the answer. “Salt acid, dolly. Pressurized salt acid. Would’ve dissolved the flesh right off their bones. Bit old fashioned, but we’ve seen it used before.”

Part of you wasn’t surprised - either at their familiarity with the substance or the fact that the statue of Anubis had apparently been booby trapped. It made sense that the guardians of the city would’ve had a host of implemented deterrents they used to ward off plunderers. The fact that you hadn’t considered that as a possibility earlier weighed heavy on your heart with guilt.

Christ, if either of them had been the ones to pry open the compartment instead…

Your depressing ruminations were interrupted by the horses whinnying in the background, the boys turning their heads towards the sound with focused eyes as if sensing something that you weren’t. 

You almost made fun of them for being so antsy. After all, it was only a bunch of animals talking amongst themselves. Just as you were about to open your mouth with a quick remark, you heard the disturbance again - only to realize the shuffling of hooves was coming from the opposite direction of where the other team's horses were currently grazing along the hillside. 

So then who…?

Movement pulled your gaze back to your companions, furrowing your own brows as the boys began grabbing for their nearby rifles in a hurry. “Wha–?”

“Stay here, lass.” Came the harshly barked order, wasting no more breath on you as they turned in tandem and sprinted off in the direction of the commotion, expecting you to remain obedient.

You weren’t an idiot. You knew if they were headed into something guns blazing then you stood no chance against whatever it was they might face. You trusted your boys enough to stay right where you were, scooting backwards on your butt to further conceal yourself in the shadows of one of the tents. Curling your legs up to your chest, you could only sit and wait for whatever outcome might befall.

The first echoing gunshots rang out in the courtyard, multiplying quickly as gunsmoke drifted upwards into view from your position. Distant screams and grunts and foreign battle cries told you everything you needed to know about the situation your friends now found themselves in; flashbacks to the only other fight you’d ever witnessed as your imagination supplied you with pictures of damp crimson earth and bullet ridden corpses. You’d have covered your ears to muffle the cacophonous sounds if you weren’t trying to remain on alert in case the fighting veered any closer.

The camels grew restless and frightened by the loud echoing bangs, yanking on their ropes in blind panic as their distressed bleats joined the horses whinnying. You tried in vain to calm the spooked animals without moving towards them, but they were all but deaf to the gentle hushes and calming words sent their way. It wasn’t until the one tugged hard enough with a reverberating snap to free itself from its confines that you bolted upright from your hiding spot with a sharp curse, following along after the panicked beast as it started to run in the wrong direction of safety.

It was easily outrunning you, charging away at speeds your tiny human legs could not compete with until you were forced to abandon your mission of bringing it back. Its path led you right towards the fighting, something you realized far too late until you had to dodge out of the way of a horse galloping past, nearly tripping over yourself to turn back in the direction you just came from. It was your turn to panic as you were finally met with the sight of your aggressors - men in familiar black robes directly blocked your intended path back to the far end of the courtyard, frantically searching for another way through when a gunshot rang out in your vicinity, startling a high pitched shout from your lips as you cowered away in terror.

It gripped you with the force of a thick iron chain, wrapping around your torso and snaking its way up around your delicate neck. Your airflow was constricted, the metal slipping inside between shocked parted lips to paralyze your windpipe and slither down to form a dense weight deep in your gut. 

It was pure pandemonium as lit torches were tossed onto thin linen canopies, men who’d been hiding within running out shrieking in pain as fire licked across their blistering skin. Those closest to the exit tried to flee in alarm only to be halted by reinforcements trampling through the gates and turning them away. Those who could defend themselves were doing so, casualties on both sides as the Americans fought back against the foreign adversaries, cheering as each shot knocked an enemy clean off its saddle. But there were too few of you in comparison to the number of intruders spilling down into the city.

All around you, faces of the men you’d encountered throughout the day contorted in agony as they were cut down like rotted trees, blood coating the blades of their enemies and bubbling up from the gruesome gaping wounds in their chests. You heard their cries to mothers and wives they would never see again; their prayers to gods that would not arrive to save them. It broke your heart to turn away from outstretched hands, looking to you as if you were their savior when in reality you’d never felt more useless in your entire life.

It took someone nearly bowling you over for your brain to finally drag itself out of freeze mode, the deep rooted need for survival powering your legs to seek cover elsewhere. 

In all the chaos you could not find either of your boys, hoping they were not amongst the bodies you rushed past as you swerved between tents towards a crumbled obelisk, hefting yourself over the side to crouch down hopefully out of view. Your hands trembled and your head felt dizzy, breaths shallow and ragged as you fought back nausea from the taste of copper soaking the air. 

Clenching your eyes shut, you begged whatever higher power might be listening to please… please not let this be the end for you. Please let Kyle and Johnny make it out of this alive and unscathed. Please don’t take away your chance at living now that you just discovered what it felt like to live.

A deep gravelly call to halt came from somewhere to your left, first in Arabic and then again in English as the clattering of swords stilled and the shouting quieted. Risking a glance, you raised up onto your knees to peek over the stone structure for whatever seemed to bring the fighting to a temporary pause.

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint what had captured everyone’s attention.

Dark clothing intermixed with light, everyone turning to face the same area awash with burning firelight highlighting two figures amongst the chaos.

And there in the middle of it all stood a man in black faced in a tense standoff opposite the familiar form of Johnny, a lit stick of dynamite the only thing keeping him and his forces at bay.

The stranger didn’t cower from the sight in front of him, keen eyes taking in the situation with careful calculations that told you he was weighing all outcomes - well aware of the destruction in Johnny’s hands and the promise in his gaze that dared them to call his bluff.

The man in black straightened to an imposing height, a deceptively bored stance with a calm aggression sparking in his gaze. He didn’t flinch away from the harsh glare of your friend, meeting it head on with one of confident arrogance. It was hard to tell his full expression, a black cloth covering the bottom half of his face that he had yet to lower. His sword swung limply at his side - dripping dark blood onto the sand below - but the muscles in his arms tensed as if they were prepared to strike at any moment.

You weren’t sure you’d ever met a more dangerous man.

“We’ve spilt enough blood tonight.” The rough bass in his voice rumbled through your bones even at a distance, the surprisingly silky timbre cutting through the undertone of lethality. “This is the only warnin’ I’ll give you so best listen carefully.”

He took a step forward as if unbothered by the sparkling wick counting down in front of him, eyes narrowing down to slits above the black fabric of his mask. 

“Leave.” The singular word sent an ominous chill down your spine. “Leave this place, or else we'll be sendin’ you to meet your heathen god.”

You didn’t doubt it, not for one minute. It briefly flashed across your mind that this might just be some elaborate trick to lower your guards, but you somehow trusted the man to keep his word. You were only grateful the killing had ended for the time being, glad to be given the opportunity to leave with your heads still intact. 

One of his men came up beside him, holding out the reins of his horse for him to take, head dipped in a reverent bow.

“Shabah.” Ghost.

The stranger's gaze swept over his surroundings as he made to turn away, halting his movement as he picked you out amongst the sea of faces. Dark brown eyes pierced yours as he came to a sudden stop, something brewing within that once again pulled at the back of your mind the same as it did that night on the ferry. There was something staring you right in the face and you were too blind or traumatized to see it.

He held you captive a moment longer, a hidden message within those orbs that he granted you no time to decipher. Breaking eye contact to mount his steed, he turned his harsh glare back to the others present, yelling out again in English for everyone to hear. “You have one day!”

Calling out to his men, they all took to their steeds and scattered with the wind back the way they came, funneling out through the city gates to disappear out into the darkness of the night. They may have gone, but their chilling warning remained.

You hoped that would be the last you ever saw of him.

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[nevesmose]

Meteor, Trailing Light

Not a request - this one's all on me. Reading Dunmeshi and thinking about how Mithrun has enough vague similarities to Fulgrim that his story arc almost-but-not-quite scratches the itch for a sort of whumpy hurt/comfort style redeemed Fulgrim story. And then, as if by magic... (Title taken from the same poem McNeill used for The Reflection Crack'd because I'm a huge fucking nerd.)

Even now he remains the Phoenician, beloved by all and the star around which his warriors orbit.

Fulgrim found it strange to be dead.

And yet that was what had happened, as far as the galaxy at large knew. The traitor Fulgrim slain in single combat by his own best-loved brother Ferrus Manus. Simply one more dead heretic in a galaxy bursting at the seams with them.

The truth, as was so often the case, differed slightly. At the final moment Ferrus Manus had stayed his hand and settled for capturing Fulgrim instead.

Once he was under observation it hadn't taken the Iron Hands long to deduce the connection between him and the cursed Laer blade and, abhorrent as it was to their rational sensibilities, to begin a process of what a more spiritually-inclined observer might have called exorcism.

When their efficient disassembly of the body failed to root out the infection, they had moved on to his mind instead.

He was grateful that he remembered so little of it, except for the sensation of the perfect white silk of his hair falling away as it was shorn off and the high-pitched squeal of a chirurgical saw biting into his skull.

"He may not survive damage to the brain of this magnitude," the cold, artificial voice of a techpriest had announced.

"He's strong enough," came the reply. His brother's voice, organic but infinitely colder. "Burn it out of him."

"My lord Primarch, even if he lives the neurological effects are beyond our ability to determine. His recall and cognition may be permanently altered."

"Understood," Ferrus had growled. "Do it."

He had relearned how to walk, in the end. How to talk and read and write, to feed and clean and dress himself. The medicae had told him his recovery was vastly quicker and more complete than could be expected of any mortal, or even an Astartes.

His hair had grown back dishwater grey and the physical damage was mitigated as far as possible by whatever therapies and augmetics could be adapted to the body of a Primarch, but the gaps in his memories and mental capabilities still lurked around him like ghosts, eager to drag him down at any moment.

How many Astartes in a legion? How to tie the laces of a boot? Sometimes the shame and humiliation of not knowing, of having to need help with such things, made him weep. He had been the Phoenician once. The guiding star to an army of superhumans.

Ferrus had been a constant presence, sitting at his bedside for what felt like days at a time. They had spoken often of the past, over and over again, Ferrus telling him the stories of his own exploits to try to reconnect the burned-away neurons into something approaching a memory.

There had been a smithing competition between them, apparently. Three months at work beneath Mount Narodnya on Terra itself. Ferrus had brought him what he said was Fulgrim's own creation, the great warhammer Forgebreaker, and although Fulgrim had looked at it and appreciated the skill and effort of his past self it simply did not register with him.

He had apologised to Ferrus for not remembering and been sure that it was the first time he had ever seen the Primarch of the Iron Hands cry.

Ferrus often spoke with him about the war, too. The war was going badly. Fulgrim knew with an instinct that must have been imprinted on him at the moment of his creation that the presence of another Primarch on the battlefield, even one so irreparably damaged, could mean the difference between survival and annihilation.

So, like a distant comet being drawn back to its star, he would return to war. When his recovery was deemed to be as complete as it would ever be, he was presented with a suit of black Iron Hands power armour trimmed in dark purple, accompanied by a newly-forged replica of the lost Fireblade.

When he left his chambers Ferrus was waiting for him, clad in his own black warplate.

"One of us is going to have to change," Fulgrim said flatly.

Ferrus chuckled. "It's good to see you like this again, Fulgrim. Come with me. I have something to show you."

"Am I to be an Iron Hand now?" he asked as they walked together, gesturing to his armour.

"If you want. Nobody will care if my closest general happens to be taller than average or look different to the rest of my Legion. There are far worse things happening in the galaxy right now, brother."

Fulgrim slowed to a halt, prompting Ferrus to stop as well.

"Am I still your brother, Ferrus? Even now?"

Ferrus didn't say anything at first, instead favouring him with one of the monumental metal-handed shoulder pats he seemed to reserve for those closest to him.

"You'll always be my brother," he replied. "You're still the only one of the bastards I can stand."

"A truly great honour," Fulgrim smiled.

They moved out onto a raised dais at one end of a large ceremonial chamber liberally decorated with Iron Hands iconography, in the sense that a certain amount of Iron Hands iconography not strictly required for the room's structural integrity was present.

In front of them stood a contingent of black-armoured Iron Hands, a few companies in total, whose plate bore the same dark purple trim as Fulgrim's along with a variety of hoods and cloaks in the same colour.

Fulgrim knew that before, he would have been able to come up with some witty, cutting remark at a time like this. He had even watched old pict footage of himself doing it until the sight of the beautiful, shining Phoenician he'd once been had become too much to bear.

It was so hard for him to get words out now, or sometimes even just to put his thoughts in sufficient order. He settled for a quizzical look at Ferrus instead, who just raised his eyebrows in an expression that on any other face would have looked downright mischievous.

"Iron Phoenixes!" he called out, striding forward. "Remove your helmets!"

In one smooth, well-drilled motion the ranks of Astartes pulled back their hoods and took off their plain black helmets to reveal a sea of white hair and violet eyes, all fixed on Fulgrim.

He realised with a sharp pang of grief that he didn't recognise any individual faces among them, but the overall resemblance was undeniable.

Tears came unbidden to Fulgrim's remaining eye. His sons. Tired, scarred, and far, far too few in number, but nevertheless his sons.

"They followed me?" he asked.

"Of course they did," Ferrus said quietly. "You're the star they orbit around, brother. They would follow you anywhere."

He recalled, hazily, or perhaps just assumed, that in the past he would have remained above them and made some lengthy declamation, most likely about the perfection of the III Legion and its primarch.

It would be beyond laughable to do that now, and in any case he lacked the breath in his lungs and the fluent command of words for such a performance. The moment called for something else.

Slowly, carefully, Fulgrim descended from the dais to stand at the same level as his Astartes. They watched him intently. Even now, broken and diminished as they all were, they still looked instinctively to him with trust and, one could even say, faith.

The sensation was, of all things, humbling. He was sure he would never have thought of it that way before.

"Welcome home," Fulgrim said, holding out his arms to his sons. As if at some mutually-agreed signal the Astartes broke formation and surged towards him, eager to be close to their Primarch, to affirm his survival and their own despite everything.

After what felt like hours, Fulgrim was finally able to extricate himself from the throng of his sons and return to Ferrus, whose craggy features gave every appearance of satisfaction at the reunion he'd arranged.

"Thank you, Ferrus," he said. "Truly. But I have to ask - the Iron Phoenixes, really?"

Ferrus shrugged. "Well, I thought it was a good name. You're welcome to change it to something more artistic if you like."

Fulgrim looked at his sons contemplatively. The Iron Phoenixes, perhaps.

"Let me think about it," he said. "We might just be stuck with it."

[heybiji]

hey can you gush about your PCs you're running your MASKS game for?

YES! ABSOLUTELY! I WOULD LOVE NOTHING MORE!! I LOVE GETTING TO GUSH ABOUT MY PLAYERS

This is long, so it'll be under the cut. Snip snip.

The Delinquent (Breaker/Westley Garza)

Powers: Teleportation, power negation

Westley is summed up in his quote, "What're you gonna do? Stop me?"

He's our delinquent boy and known as "the meta kid" or "the freak" at school because everyone knows about his teleportation. He's cocky and rebellious, but he's also pretty sociable, in a dickish sort of way. His mom was still a teenager when she gave birth to him, they've lived a pretty transient lifestyle, and he's the poorest of all the PCs. He's also a secret superhero nerd and knows the most about the heroes in the city (but outwardly, being a fan of superheroes is lame!). We've referred to him as the secret Beacon because he's the one who pulled all the kids together to form a team. After all, his powers aren't great for solo work, but he could be a superhero if he had a team!

oh, yeah, one of his powers is a secret (or supposed to be). He found out about his power negation when he was 10 years old and he fell out of a skyscraper's top floor when something crashed into it, and was saved by flying vigilante True Strike... until True Strike started falling with him. fortunately, another flying hero was around, Aldebaran, and True Strike tossed the kid to her. and then she started falling. This resulted in the city's infamous Dino Donut incident (or The Day Dino Donut Died) where True Strike flew over and grabbed Aldebaran, who was still holding Westley, and they softened their crash landing by flying into and popping the city's beloved gigantic Dino Donut balloon that floated over the city's favorite donut chain. this traumatized the city's kids and upset the city's adults who also grew up with Dino Donut, and True Stike never offered an explanation for killing the balloon, because then it would require confessing that there's a kid with a dangerous superpower, power negation, around. this resulted in True Strike becoming a joke and the city turning on him.

so. westley feels incredibly guilty about this. no one knows he was involved in the Dino Donut incident other than his single mother, Aldebaran, and True Strike (who went to visit him that night and told him he MUST keep his power negation power a secret; otherwise, there would trouble him and his mother). But when he suspected Sydnee knew where True Strike was, he was excited to find out that he was still around.

but now westley's Breaker (like circuit breaker), and he's using the power negation more! but as long as no one finds out about it'll be okay, right?

i like westley a lot, i also just know a bunch about him because his player gave me a LOT of information to work with which I LOOOOOVE, yum yum yum. he's got some compartmentalization going on between being a superhero and, in his civilian life, flouting rules and laws. he has yet to have a "westley episode" where we really put him under the microscope, but it's coming very soon (the Christmas episode! finally Westley and True Strike will get to talk again after all these years!!).

The Doomed (Poltergeist/Adrian SantaRosa Montañéz)

Powers: Psychic constructs, vitality absorption

Adrian is a cutie. He's a good boy. He's a nerd. In his civilian life, no one seems to notice him; it's like he's a ghost! He's the brains, and he has the biggest heart and the most heroic instinct out of all the PCs. Unfortunately, he's infected by a fatal parasite that is giving him his superpowers by his nemesis, who the characters call The Doctor (she also gave him a personal home phone call where she rambled on about some guinea worm parasite body horror).

He's a lonely kid, too! He doesn't have many friends, and his scientist parents seem to only pay more attention to him now out of scientific curiosity. oh yeah, the parent thing is becoming a problem, because they don't want him using his superpowers outside of the lab but they are not beginning to suspect he's been doing just that, since his hair is turning white...

also he is funny. he provides a lot of comedy relief. he's a simp for his childhood friend and the former cheerleader, Amber Chu/Terracotta. we get to spend some moments just seeing what adrian is seeing in his head and it's always fun.

The Outsider (LGM/Eridani A Aurita)

Powers: Flight, telepathy, alien tech

Eridani is a straight-up alien. Aliens announced their presence a decade ago, and now the alien ambassador and his daughter, Eridani, are on Earth! okay, and Eridani is great because she gets many of her perceptions of earth life through our media, and most of all through the series of TV shows/movies that her favorite actor and superhero, Lena Glazier, stars in! imagine like those old mary kate and ashley movies, or disney channel movies, with some hilary duff in there too. Lena Glazier's big role was starring in the show Space Case, which is also why she was chosen to go to the alien mothership with some other heroes back in the day to establish a relationship with the aliens

Her name is LGM (like Little Green Men) because some symbols from an old patch of hers resemble those letters. She can't reveal her identity because we earthlings would not be chill with the alien girl getting involved like this! And her dad would not be happy about it either. especially with her alien tech, which can not be shared with the earthlings (which we refer to as her tasergun or her wikigun)

eridani's a sweet one, i see her as the innocent one of the group! she also seems to be developing a crush on adrian/poltergeist, and I ship her with our dumb emo boy/damsel in distress character joey luna (alien... luna... you see). we are also constantly joking about the impending intergalactic incident that will occur if something happens to eridani. oops.

The Protege (Pink Fury/Sydnee Rogers)

Powers: Super strength, elemental control (fire)

Sydnee is the protege of former vigilante and current disaster hermit True Strike. Well, she thinks of herself as his protege, but he's not giving her that much.

Sydnee's stuck between wanting a normal life and wanting to be a superhero too (a similar situation to what her mentor went through, and it didn't end well for him. successful separation of the two lives, but it cost him his family and dignity). Her mother works in the meta foster care system, so she is worried about being taken away due to her dangerous powers (super strength and fire control), so she keeps her metahuman status secret.

But she can't help herself! She's on the softball team even though there are no metahumans allowed on the school sports teams, so she holds herself back and lets her team suck to not get any eyes on her (everyone else on the team sucks, too, they're called the Pussykats since the school mascot is a meerkat). She wants to be a superhero, and is training under True Strike, but if anyone finds out she's a metahuman that could spell trouble for her civilian life!

Her big thing is "not being good enough," and boy, is it rubbed in her face a LOT. True Strike criticizes her (somewhat deservedly; she claims she's trying her hardest but isn't), and she's not very discreet, which has made her relationship with Westley incredibly tense because she knows about his secret power and he doesn't trust her with it after her several slip-ups regarding True Strike.

we're actually in the middle of a Sydnee episode where True Strike has "fired" her, and I'm excited to see how it wraps up! Will she get her mentorship back?!

The Transformed (Terracotta/Amber Chu)

Powers: Transmuting flesh, elevated defense

Amber is a former cheerleader, School Jewel (think The Plastics), and mean girl, but after an accident involving a villain at prom, now her skin is constantly melting! Which is, like, so not cool. She's been ostracized from her former friend group, kicked off the cheerleading squad, and has dropped exponentially in the school hierarchy.

look amber's power is gross. her eye falls out of its socket sometimes. students have referred to her as Amber Goo.

I love Amber. She's an absolute disaster and the easiest to poke at in civilian life because she cares so much about her social standing, so she is my GM dream come true. She's dealing with a lot, like her former prom queen mom can hardly look at her. And she is enjoying being Terracotta because it means she doesn't have to be Amber Chu, even though it now seems like the more she's Terracotta, the worse her condition is getting (her skin is changing color?!). Uh oh.

at the moment, things are pretty good for her, though. she hasn't been melting down as much, and somehow she is dating the captain of the football team, Blake Borisov (he's terrible, but he's hot), because they both want to rub it in Jade Jensen's, her ex-best friend and his ex-girlfriend's, face. which is stressing the player out, because of course it can only go south from here.

Anywho, I love these characters and my players! They've been on their A-games and playing to get the next issue picked up. For my first time running MASKS (or any PBTA game, and it just being my second time GMing in general) it's been a lot of fun. And they have graciously put up with me doing and asking for... a lot.

Thanks for the question! I hope to get to talk more about our MASKS game in the future!