#brain just got activated but were ignoring her no elaboration. but yes

[itsalwaysdark]

one linguistic difference between here and irl is irl 'dog' is one of my most used words . i call everything and everyone 'dog' while hanging out with lamp . but i dont do it on here bc i think it looks silly when i type it

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (11/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.3k words

Warning : fluff, angst, shitty Steve, Don’t ask me why I make Steve so unlikable in every thing  I write( PS I’m still mad at endgame Steve), mention of sex

If someone had told you that you would wake up snuggled to your boss — naked — you would have told them to fuck off and leave you alone. Not that the idea of James in your bed was repulsive, no, it was actually quite the opposite. You wanted him so much that it scared you because he — well, he was so gorgeous, and you were you. And he even looked better lying in your bed while the sunlight peaked onto his face from the window, making his stubble and hair appear golden-ish. Even as hard his exterior was, everything about him, mostly sleeping in your bed, appeared soft. 

“You know, watching people while they sleep is kinda creepy,” James said, his voice gruff from sleep and you felt heat rushing through your body. God, his morning voice was so hot. It took a second for your brain to register his words and when it did, you moved your gaze away from him.

“You’re beautiful,” you blurted out. You could feel him rumbling as he rubbed his still sleep-dazed eyes.

He gently lifted his hand to place it on your face, caressing your cheek softly with his knuckles as he said, “You are beautiful."

You jokingly rolled your eyes and shifted your face slightly to plant a kiss on the inside of his palm. “Don’t you have a club to run?” 

“The club can wait,” Bucky’s hand trailed off from your face to your waist and he flipped you, situating you on his lap and kissed you lazily while his hands roamed around your body. 

***

Bucky felt like he was dreaming, he felt as if any moment you’ll slip out of his grasp and he would have to wake up. This was too good to be true, you were too good to be true. After an incredible morning, which included him pounding into you in your bed and then on the kitchen worktop and then in the shower. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, he needed to touch you — feel you — make sure you were here with him safe. 

It wasn’t just sex, it was so intimate that it felt so much more. The time when he wasn’t buried inside you, you’d talk about everything. He told you that when he was a kid, he loved baking. His mom worked, so he spent most of his time helping his sister with her new hobby. Rebecca soon grew out of it, but Bucky didn’t. He told you he’d love to open a bakery in a foreign country.

“You know, we can go to Europe,” you suggested. “You can open a bakery and maybe some chocolate whiff is all I need to break out from my writing slump.”

Bucky’s heart ached at your confession, he was delighted to know that he wasn’t the only one that was fantasizing about a future with you. He had never told his ambitions to anyone, mainly because when he did tell someone, they laughed at him. His career and exterior did not match his dreams, and soon those dreams died. But you made him desire that peaceful life. He wanted peace and tranquility in his life with you. Maybe tomorrow he would wake up and realize that this was some dream, and he was alone in his apartment and not in your bed. 

“Have you thought of a name yet?” you asked, “For the bakery.”

“Did you recall that song you were humming?”

 “No,” you said, “But I’m sure it will make a great bakery name.”

You curled up into his chest, you were almost asleep. He kissed the top of your head, refusing to succumb to sleep, holding you tightly so that even if this was an elaborate fantasy that his mind had conjured, he was adamant to still make the most of it.

***

After leaving your house to get ready for work, that's when he finally realized that this was real. You were his, and he was yours in a sense that no amount of words could comprehend. You hadn’t put any official labels on your relationship, but the way you moaned his name and breathlessly whispered, “I’m yours. All yours.” multiple times in his ears was enough.

Bucky hated when people called him James, it reminded him of his father, but the way you said his name with adoration filled in your eyes and tone made him content. You made him feel content and happy with everything you did without even realizing it. Bucky hoped he could do the same for you — make you feel at peace.

“I’ve been calling you since morning,” Steve commented the moment Bucky entered his office. He eyed the group of people — Steve, Sam, Clint, Pietro, Wanda, and Peter in his office before exhaling. Although Bucky was their boss, that didn't deter them from treating him like the friend he was. He didn’t mind that either, these people gave him a sense of belonging — a family, and he would give his life for them just like they would for him.

“I was asleep,” Bucky lied. And of course, his friends didn’t buy it.

“I came by your place this morning. You weren't there sleeping,” Steve retorted. He didn’t like how his best friend who he saw as a brother was hiding things from him. 

Fuck, Bucky thought. Admittedly, he wasn't at his place, he was at yours. He didn’t know what to say when six sets of eyes were looking at him expectantly. He couldn’t tell the truth, he wasn't a kiss-and-tell kind of guy. He wanted to avoid telling because you met these people every day, and it would become awkward for you; but mostly he didn’t want anyone to find out because it was so new for him that he was scared to even mention your relationship, terrified of jinxing it. 

Just when he was about to muster up an excuse, a soft knock on his office door snapped everyone’s attention towards the entrance. Bucky’s relief was short-lived the moment he realized it couldn’t be anyone except you. Now everyone was looking at Bucky impatiently, waiting for him to respond. 

If it were anyone else Bucky would have asked them to go away, but it was you. You were knocking at his door. He wanted to see you, see the marks hidden behind the concealer or collar when he sucked your neck a little too hard the previous night and this morning. Mainly, he wanted to see you.

“Come in,” He said, ignoring the stares his friends were giving him. His breath hitched at your sight, you were really breathtaking. You weren't looking at him or anyone in the room. No, you were holding two coffees and a bag of donuts in your hand. Your eyes were focused and you were looking inside the bag, searching for a dish to put his donut in, when you said, “I knew you'd skip breakfast after you left this morning. I brought you -” 

“Y/N,” Wanda cut you off.

Bucky internally thanked Wanda because he didn’t have it in him to stop you from speaking.  And that’s when you finally looked up and were met with seven people staring at you. Sam, Wanda, and Pietro were looking at you with a smirk on their face. Peter looked down at his feet. Clint was clueless and confused. Steve wasn’t looking at you, he was staring at his best pal who lied to him about his whereabouts. And Bucky’s eyes were fixed on you and when yours landed on his, he smiled at you and shook his head, telling you that he got you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N? Your shift doesn’t start till night,” Pietro informed, he was clearly teasing you. And soon a sense of understanding came to Clint’s senses when he joined the dots and his eyes widened before a smirk formed on his lips.

“I… I,” you stuttered. Your brain couldn't come up with an excuse this quickly. Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you raised your hands and the packet of donuts with it and excitedly said, “I brought doughnuts!”

“Thank you!” Bucky exclaimed, swiftly walking towards you, taking the donuts from your hand, and placing it on the table. He draped his arm around your waist before leading you outside his office. His friends knew now, he wasn’t going to tone down the PDA in front of them. He just didn't want you to feel awkward or under anyone's subjection.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” you started once you were away from everyone. “I wouldn’t have if I knew -”

Bucky’s lips landed on yours, stopping your rambling. His arms snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against his chest, and you wrapped your hands around his neck. “It wasn’t your fault,” he mumbled adjacent to your lips and you sighed in relief.

“I just wanted to bring you breakfast since we couldn’t have it,” you pouted, flusteredly thinking about the morning activities that stopped you from having breakfast.

Bucky beamed down at you and planted another soft kiss on your lips. “How about I make it up to you at lunch,” he suggested, “I'll bake something for you too.”

You nodded excitedly and were about to leave when Bucky gently took your wrist in his hand. “Doll, text me when you reach home, yeah?”

***

Bucky dreaded going back into his office, he knew he would be bombarded with questions and knowing smirks. He decided to rip off the band and entered the office. “Okay, go for it, ask away.”

“How long has this been going on?” Steve was the first one to question.

“I mean, officially since last night.”

Sam was about to drop a snarky comment when Pietro chimed in. “Who asked who out?” 

“I asked her out,” Bucky answered, and was bewildered. “Why is that important?” 

“I knew it!” Wanda cheered and raised her hand, palms up, towards the blond. “Pay up,” Pietro grumbled before handling her sister 20 dollars.

“You guys bet on us?” Bucky asked and was met with amused snickers from everyone except Steve. Peter stepped forwards before saying, “I had no part in this, Mr. Barnes.”

The twins rolled their eyes before Steve interjected another one of Sam’s almost snippy comments. “She is the reason you attacked Rumlow, isn't she?”

Sam raised his hands in frustration and turned towards his husband. “Come on, babe. You just had to ruin the fun.”

Bucky exhaled and answered honestly, “Yes, but I can’t tell you why. You just have to take my word for it and trust me that he deserved it.”

“Buck, I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but you have to understand where my fear is coming from,” Steve said, “I know Rumlow and I know he's planning something big. We have to be careful. You can't be distracted by this girl, pal.”

Bucky was furious. He did not expect his best bud to say that. Steve knew how much Bucky pinned for you, he knew how much Bucky wanted you. How could he just say that about you after knowing all of this? “That’s rich coming from you after you told me to be happy.”

Bucky huffed in disbelief, his voice filled with venom. “Well, guess what, pal? She makes me happy.”

Nobody dared to intervene between the childhood friends. Everyone knew that Steve was saying stupid shit out of concern, but Bucky couldn’t see it. Bucky would fight anyone for you, even his best pal.

“You attacked our enemy because of this girl that you’ve been with since what — a day?” Steve scoffed sarcastically, and Bucky’s breath was drawn and his fists balled.

“I attacked him because he-” Bucky cursed himself and inhaled sharply. He couldn’t do this to you, it wasn't his decision to tell. You had decided that nobody would find out about what Rumlow did to you, not even cops, and Bucky respected your decision. He wouldn’t do this to you, especially not out of anger and in front of multiple people you didn't even know.

Before Steve could say something, Bucky’s phone vibrated on the table. A text, Bucky assumed it was you, informing him that you had reached home. You — thinking about you made him take a breath and calmed him a bit. He decided he would text you in the privacy of his office, after his friends would leave. He would text you back or better call you when he wasn’t fuming with rage at his best friend, then he would take you out on a lunch date. 

Bucky was about to reach for his phone when Clint finally spoke up, “Steve, we will be careful, okay? We will contact our sources and find out about Rumlow’s plan.”

All the heads present in the office accepted this decision. Sam scolded Steve and Bucky and made them hug out their issues like kindergarteners. Peter offered to make a drink and everyone made their way downstairs towards the bar, leaving the office and Bucky’s phone unattended.

What Bucky didn’t know was that Rumlow’s plan was already in action, in reality, he had even succeeded in his plan.

If Bucky had checked his phone, then he would have realized it wasn't a text from you, instead, it was a text from an unknown number with an attached photo. The picture was of you tied to a chair, your eyes half-lidded with drugs and tears, and a bruise forming on your left cheek.

TAGS :  @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407 @mybuck @priii @coffeebooksandfandom @ladydmalfoy @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 12)

<<Previous part Masterlist   Next part>>

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi, @irwxnhugsx)

Warnings: alcohol.

Disclaimer: pic not mine.

After the sun came completely down and the night bathed the city, making the flashing lights of the buildings and cars look like the sky had spat all of its stars, you gathered all your work and called it a day. Thor, Steve and Bucky were able to go through everything you told them to, and everything was in control. You had managed to solve a chaotic situation from the distance, and the pleasant feeling of doing things right gave you the last push to close your laptop and join Peter and Loki.

Opening one of the windows, you let the fresh wind hit your face and unfurrow your brows, releasing all the tensions you had been accumulating all week long. Peter sneaked up from outside the building and hung upside down from the frame. You gasped, forgetting for a brief moment he was sticky and not completely out of his mind.

“Are you joining us, older?”.

“Yes, little. I’m going”, you laughed at the comeback of the nicknames. Standing for older sibling and little sibling Tony had baptized you with, years ago. Loki chuckled.

“You two are the epitome of adorability, sometimes”.

“Oh, we can get worse”, you laughed.

You had ordered some food in, without wanting to ever touch the mess of that kitchen again, and a bottle of wine. Nobody was there, else than you three; might as well have fun. As you waited for dinner to arrive, you decided on a slide presentation night. You gave each other no more than twenty minutes to arrange it all, so the chaos would be absolute and uncontrollable.

Peter presented first, with a long powerpoint ranking things the Avengers did in “vine-vibes” ascending order. You two tried (and failed miserably) to explain to Loki what a vine was and why something would have its vibes without being actually a video.

Loki’s presentation was titled “Seven hundred reasons why you shouldn’t worship the God of Sparkly hands”. There were actually only six reasons; two of them were about mass murders he was about to commit, and most of them talked about annoying things he did as a child. There was an extra one where it was just a white background and tiny letters in the middle saying “he dyes his hair blonde, he’s actually a redhead”.

Your presentation was titled “Seven hundred and one reasons why you should worship me instead”. No need to elaborate. They all differed except for Friday; she clapped with her electronic hands.

Two board games and some chess later, the food had already arrived. Peter was famished and ate more than you could’ve imagined a boy was capable of. He got so full, so quickly, that he instantly got sleepy. Loki could not bite his tongue and had to say “just like a baby”. It did not help that you snorted, and Peter shot his webs at you two; Loki avoided them and you couldn’t, so you ended up stuck to the roof. Peter started to walk to his room, leaving you up there.

“Hey, hey! Don’t leave, I’m still here!”, you called him. But he was gone. What an avenger. Loki chuckled, and raised his hand to free you with magic, and you instantly realized you were six meters away from the floor. “Wait! I’ll fall!!”.

He didn’t stop, and dissolved the net with a simple spell. As you fell down, you closed your eyes and tried to cover your head, knowing you’d have at least a broken bone. Peter has done this before, you knew there was no way to actually leave unharmed. Loki’s arms tightened around your body, avoiding you to fall flat against the floor.

As you looked up, you met his face, closer than ever. Closer than it ever has been. Your heart skipped a beat, and you knew you had to think about something else than the feeling of his chest against yours, his hands in your back, how he was holding you so gently, how he was looking at you so dearly. You knew you had to think about something else; for he could be reading your mind. He surely was. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop focusing on his peach lips and how soft his cheeks looked from up close. You couldn’t see anything else than the movement of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed hard, and how his hand trembled a little in your back.

He let you down slowly, still holding eye contact, still with his arms around you. Not the threatening gaze he would hold against everyone else on the compound. Not the lustful gaze he would sometimes draw while stealing some glances at you changing on your suit (he thought you didn’t notice, you certainly did). Not the concentrated gaze he would hold still on his face while reading one of those books he always carried around.

It wasn’t any of those. You had studied them thoroughly, meticulously, every inch of his facial expressions, every inch of his being while he wasn’t aware of your eyes on him. God, how you hated to look at him this way, but how much you couldn’t avoid it. Your brain knew you shouldn’t get attached. You had no chance at all to be with him; he was a God, a criminal, and he’d go back to Asgard. And, foremost, he didn’t feel the same. He had a lover, and his mind was still there, stuck in that person, undeletable.

And, as much as you could have read him like a children’s book the entirety of the past week, right now, you had no clue what those green eyes on you meant. You had no idea why the blush on his cheeks was in there, and why he let out a tiny (the tiniest, ever so subtle) gasp. Parted lips that shone, looked so…

You shook your head, closing your eyes. He didn’t let go of his grip around you, but your feet were already on the floor. You could’ve walked away if you wanted to. And you wanted to, you definitely did not want to stay there, and sink your nose in his neck. You certainly did not want to play with his hair while staring at those pair of emeralds he couldn’t keep away from you. You couldn’t read him. He looked at you in a way you’ve never seen him before. Yet it felt so… right.

No, it wasn’t right. God, what were you thinking?

He pulled away, and the cold breeze from the window surrounded your body. You didn’t realize how much body heat he was warming you with until he left. Or maybe it was your own. Your face was still burning. You visibly cringed at your reaction, and could not play it cool at all. He chuckled, again, and walked to the kitchen.

You didn’t say anything. Your face still burned, and your chest was tight. You haven’t felt like this in a long time, why now? Why in the middle of an important mission? Why just now, that he specifically told you he would not stay, and that once he left he would not come back? Why now, that he was opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen, and pouring it in two glasses?

Opening the balcony’s doors, there were two metal chairs (those with delicate designs, that would usually belong to a grandma’s garden) and a round and tiny glass table, just waiting for you two to sit there. You needed fresh air, so you did, sinking in all the city, the active flashlights of the cars, the minute people running around, or walking.

Two glasses of wine clicked against the glass table, and Loki sat in front of you with his eyes fixed on the city, too. You observed him from the corner of your eye, and he did the same. A subtle smile drew across his tightened lips.

After a glass of wine, a refill and about an hour of small talk, he uncrossed his legs and stretched his arms and back with a yawn. The blush still remained intact on his cheeks, and it couldn’t be because of the wine. If you weren’t drunk, much less him. He looked back at you, and chuckled uncomfortably.

“What?”, he asked.

“What what?”.

“You’re staring”.

“Oh, sorry”.

“No, it’s fine”, he said, and you furrowed your brows. He specified, “I don’t mind. I wonder what you’re thinking while you stare, nothing more”.

“So you’re not reading my mind?”.

“No. You said you didn’t like that”.

“Ah”, you gave your glass of wine one last sip and emptied it. It was such a simple gesture, yet you didn’t expect him to actually have listened. Of course he would, he wasn’t actually as bad as he was portrayed by Stark, or so you have seen so far of him. “I just… I wonder about you”.

“About what?”.

“You’re difficult to read. My job here is mainly knowing how to read people”, you explained, and he nodded. “It’s almost like you’re purposely hiding. Like you’re shifting your microexpressions into whatever they are now, so nobody can see what you actually think or feel”. He let out a short chest laugh. Probably sarcastic, but how would you know.

“Who would actually want to know what goes through my mind?”.

“I do, just told you”.

He looked down and played with the empty glass in between his fingers. It looked small in comparison.

“You don’t want to, believe me”.

“Are you afraid of letting people in?”.

“No, it’s not that”, he said, trying to let you know he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You ignored it and opened your mouth, but the words died in your tongue as he added, “please, don’t”.

“I wish I knew you better”, you said after a few more minutes of silence. You swore you heard a creaking foot on the stairs, peeping in the conversation. You ignored it; if Loki was to talk to you, he would also say it in front of Peter. Not like you had some sort of special bond, or even friendship. You kind of wished for it, though.

“Why?”. His knitted eyebrows showed how actually curious he was about that. He believed you. He was certain you were telling the truth, but he simply couldn’t put his head around it. Why would anyone want to know me better? What is it about me that you care? And you wished to know the reason, too. If you knew why you were so drawn to him, maybe you could’ve stopped yourself.

“I feel like I’m missing out on something”.

“Something like what?”.

“Something great”.

“There is no greatness in me, it’s all an act”.

“I know it’s all an act”, you said, referring to his whole I’m a God and you’ll kneel before me and I’m superior. “I don't mean that kind of greatness. You’re hiding the wrong things”.

“You’re not missing out on anything”, he insisted, and not for humility, but because he wanted to brush you off. Keep you away from him.

“Don’t you think we could ever get along? Friends, even?”, you pressured. You knew you shouldn’t have, but Loki didn’t take it badly. Instead, he finally looked at you, drawing a sad smile.

“I’m going back to Asgard after the mission. I don’t intend to make new friends”, he said, but a softness in his voice hinted he wasn’t being mean; simply stating the facts. Exactly as it should be.

“Why did you come only for this mission?”, you asked. You actually wanted to ask do you even have friends back there?, but you knew better.

“I owe Stark. I messed up and wanted to fix at least something with him. He’s not taking it too kindly, but I think he understands the intentions”, he explained, sitting back up on his chair and getting his eyes back on the city.

“A peace offering?”.

“More like an apology. Redemption, even”.

“Redemption? Do you see yourself as a villain to him?”.

He didn’t answer right away. Took his time to find the words.

“I wronged. I did things I shouldn’t have”, and then you realized, he wasn’t apologizing for the New York incident. It was personal. You even wondered, maybe… was he…? Was Tony actually the...? No, imposible. “I know helping out on a mission won’t cut it, but if I can at least be a little bit of help to his planet…”.

“May I ask what did you wrong him in?”.

“I tried to take over Midgard once”, he said, and you didn’t believe him.

“If you ask me, it’s not Stark’s place to accept that apology. He doesn’t own the planet, even though he thinks that”.

“Does he?”.

“He acts like such, at least. He has a big ego, but also a big heart. He’s the closest thing I have to a father”.

“I know”, and you weren’t sure what he had said I know to.

The night was kept awake with more small talk you wouldn’t remember the next day. You saw the sun rising from behind the buildings in silence, with a bad aftertaste of wine, takeout food and unspoken words that would stay just like that.

[marjansmarwani]

I’m far away, but I am right there 

1.6k || ao3

While TK is fighting the wildfire Carlos does his best not to worry. Mostly, he fails. Fortunately for him, he has someone on his side too. ---- Missing moment (I'd like to think) from 2x03

A slightly belated gift for the wonderful @lonestarbabe! I originally was working on something completely different, but I wanted to give you something with some Mya. I hope you enjoy it 💕

Beta’d by @officereyes and title courtesy of @firefighterstrand 

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

The weeks-long battle against the San Angelo fire continues at this hour, with officials now saying the blaze has consumed more than 180,000 acres with less than 5% containment. 

They had the news on again. 

Carlos did his best to ignore it, willing himself to focus solely on his paperwork and nothing else. 

Response teams are exhausted, most of them having been in this fight for days now in dangerous and inhospitable conditions, grabbing what little rest they can, here on the front lines of this inferno. 

But it was hard when all his brain wanted to do was worry about TK. His boyfriend was 200 miles from home on the front lines of the worst wildfire in Texas history, and tidbits of information like that were not helpful in lessening his worry.

At first he told himself it would be fine, it would just be a day or two before they’d have the fires under control. But as one day stretched into several and then became a week, it became harder with each passing breath to not focus solely on this fear. He wondered if this is how his past boyfriends had felt about his job. Secretly he doubted it; not because of the lack of risks, but because of their lack of investment. But if they had ever felt even an inkling of this, he was sorry he had put them through that. 

Distantly someone made a smartass comment about the coverage and Carlos clenched his jaw in an effort to not bite their head off. He was writing with just a little bit more force than usual when the chair beside his desk was suddenly filled as his partner plopped down next to him, eyebrows raised: “you look like a walking tension headache.” 

“With observation skills like that it’s a wonder you haven’t made detective yet.” 

Mya raised an eyebrow at his tone and his words, “and so pleasant too.” 

Carlos put down his pen and sighed, running a hand down his face before turning to face her, “I’m sorry, I’m just a little…”

“Tense? Worried? Acting like a dick?” Mya provided helpfully. 

“Yes, yes, and I’m sorry,” Carlos replied, glancing over his shoulder at the news footage still running, “I just hate thinking about it. I hate that he’s facing that,” he gestured to news currently showing what seemed to be just acres of flames and a permanently smoke-filled sky, “and there’s nothing I can do about it.” 

Mya’s expression softened as she leaned closer, “I hate to break it to you Carlos, but you’re human. Those feelings come with the territory. Especially when you’re in love.” 

That caught Carlos’s attention. He had returned to his paperwork, but now he faltered in his writing, pen pausing on the form he was filling out, freezing before he slowly looked up to meet his partner’s knowing and marginally smug expression. He shook his head, “I’m not...I never said…” 

Now Mya scoffed, “Please. Like it’s not painfully obvious to everyone but the two of you.” 

She looked at him expectantly, but Carlos was quiet after her words and her knowing grin shifted into a frown, “That’s not a bad thing, Carlos. You two love each other. In most universes, we call that a good thing.”

Carlos was quiet again before he turned to look at her, “yeah, I know.”

She waited but he didn’t elaborate. “And?” she prompted, “I feel like there’s a but.” 

“But,” he agreed, “I just never really thought about it before, you know?” 

She still looked puzzled but when he glanced at the news again, something seemed to click in her mind: “You’ve never said it to him.” 

Carlos peeled his eyes away from the new footage to meet hers once again, “No,” he agreed quietly, “I haven’t.”    

“And now you’re doing your pessimist thing and wondering if maybe you won’t have the chance now.” 

“I am not a pessimist,” Carlos objected hotly before deflating, “but yes. I mean, Mya, he’s on the front lines of the worst wildfire in Texas history. And he’s an incredible danger magnet. I’m just…” 

“Worried,” Mya finished, and Carlos nodded. “Got any advice for that?” he asked in what he hoped was a joking tone, but judging by her expression, he failed. 

“Trust him.” 

He looked at her sharply and she shrugged, “What? You two are the type of couple I use to remind myself love does exist and it’s not all a con by the wedding industry. I don’t really think the universe will pull you two apart just yet. TK is good at what he does, don’t forget that.” 

“I know he is, but…” 

Mya scowled at him and picked up one of the paperclips on his desk to flick at him. He swatted it away and gave her a look of indignation, “what was that for?” 

“For being a pessimist again. Stop it. There’s no use dwelling on the worst. Have a little faith, Carlos.” 

“I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be the one telling me off for being a pessimist.”

“Neither did I, but here we are. I don’t like it either, so you better get out of this funk ASAP.” 

Carlos rolled his eyes but was distracted by the sound of his phone vibrating on his desk. Mya followed his gaze to it as he picked it up, “Is that him?” 

He shook his head as he read the message, frown deepening, “no, it’s his mom.” 

“You’re texting his mom? And you’re having doubts about your feelings for him?” 

“I never said I was having doubts about my feelings,” Carlos countered, “and it’s practical. He doesn’t get a lot of time to make calls so we keep each other updated when one of us hears from him.” 

“What does he have to say? Are they wrapping up?” 

“No,” Carlos said grimly, setting down his phone, “his dad is missing in action.” 

“What?”

“Apparently he was doing an aerial search and his helicopter went down, inside the active burn zone.”

“Shit.”

The two partners sat in silence for a few moments before Carlos finally asked the question echoing in his mind, “what are the chances TK doesn’t end up going after him, even though he was told to stand down?” 

“Little to none.” 

Carlos sighed, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose, “that’s what I thought.” 

“Hey,” Mya said bracingly, leaning forward, “don’t forget what we just said. Your boy’s smart and good at what he does. And he has something pretty special to come home to. He’s not going to do anything stupid. Well, nothing really stupid,” she amended when Carlos gave her a skeptical look, “he’s going to be fine, and back before you know it.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Carlos replied quietly, “you have no idea how much I hope you’re right.” 

Mya gave him a sad smile, leaning across his desk to place a comforting hand on his arm, “Lucky for you, I usually am.”

Despite everything, he smiled, “Yeah,” he agreed, “you usually are.” 

“I am so glad to know you have finally admitted my brilliance,” she quipped with a grin, “but that also means you should believe me when I say that it’s going to be fine. You just need to believe in him, and trust him.”

Carlos was quiet again for a few moments before he responded, voice thick with emotion, “I do,” he told her, “I do believe in him and trust him. More than anyone else.” 

“Then all that’s left for you to do is wait, and be ready to be there for him when he gets home.” 

Carlos turned his head, glancing at the news coverage again. It still looked like hell on earth, and he still hated the thought of TK anywhere near it, but Mya was right. About so many things. He did love TK, and he intended to tell him. But that would have to wait for when he came home, and Carlos would be ready for him. For whatever he needed. 

“Thank you,” he told Mya, “really.” 

Mya smiled at him: a sweet and sincere thing. She rose from the chair beside his desk, squeezing his arm as she moved away, “Anything for you two. I’m rooting for you, you know. Can’t have my favorite couple falling apart on my watch.” 

“Are you shipping us?”

“Who isn’t?” 

With that, she turned to leave and Carlos called after her, “Just wait until you find that someone. I am never going to give you a moment of peace so you’ll know exactly how it feels.” 

“That is a risk I am willing to take,” Mya called over her shoulder. 

Carlos rolled his eyes at her, still smiling at her antics until his gaze caught the phone in his hand once again and he could feel the fear rise up again. He knew Mya was right, TK was good at what he did. That didn’t quell the fear; the enormous weight of knowing someone you loved was in need of help that you couldn’t provide. It made him feel helpless, and Carlos Reyes did not like feeling helpless. 

Mya was right about something else too, he thought as he put his phone down and forced his focus back to the task at hand. His boyfriend would come back home. And when he did, he would need someone to lean on. Carlos fully intended to be that something, but until then he just needed to trust TK. 

In so many ways trust and love were the same thing; so as long as he loved him, he could trust him too.  

[darkmagickingdom]

Gush hours! Tell me your OTPs and why you love 'em

You have opened the floodgates now

I'll only talk about my Disney Villains ones for now because that's all that relates to the blog, but if you want to hear about the ones I have outside of the disney fandom I would be more than happy to gush about those too.

The Lich's Dark Fairytale--aka the Horned King/Maleficent

- Okay, I talked about this one a bit a while ago. But unsurprisingly, I have more to say. So this wasn't my first enemies-to-lovers ship--I think my first one was created at least four years ago, but it's probably closer to six, and even that might be undershooting it--but this was my first "oh they'd try to kill each other, that's spicy" ship.

It started as a thing that wouldn't last, just a way to explore the kind of pairing where they're both trying to kill each other while trying to ignore their less-murdery feelings for each other.

It was a pairing dynamic I didn't really explore before then. Then I ended up liking both characters, their similarities, their shared dynamic--so much that I just had to make it a sincere enemies-to-lovers. And I'm a sucker for villains that have a soft side for someone but are still, y'know, evil. And given how Maleficent's whole thing in her movie is sticking it to the "true love conquers all" trope, I like the idea that a relationship wouldn't magically make her good. Sorry, Jolie, but she's just more fun of a character to me as a bad girl.

I would also love to see someone as gleefully evil as Maleficent try and lift the King out of his bitter and somber little grave. It'd be good to hear him maniacally laugh more often. Or really, at all. Maleficent's come back to life a ton of times, and might not be fully killable, while at least in my personal headcanons, the King can't ever fully die, being able to remain aware and keep his soul in his body no matter how horribly its damaged. So there's none of that immortal's angst that either of them would get from a relationship with a mortal.

I also love seeing characters be ruthlessly protective of one another, and I think these two have great potential for that. They both have potential to get absolutely bloodthirsty on the battlefield, even if Disney never really let us see either of them doing that. But you don't get a reputation like Maleficent's by sitting on a throne all day, and you don't achieve a reputation like the Horned King's by never riding into battle and cutting a few thousands down upon an accursed, blood-soaked blade. In fact, book-accurate depictions of the King have him surprisingly jacked, and looking a lot more battle-ready than his animated counterpart. I like to think that's how he was when he was much younger, before he started rotting. So if it comes down to it, they'll both wreak havoc on a battlefield, or they'll form an impenetrable defense to shield the other. And that is my JAM.

If I had to pick one song for them, it would be Love Me Dead by Ludo. But I have a whole playlist for them tbh.

Cards & Dice--aka Facilier/Oogie

Now this one is just. Fun. These two have such a similar aesthetic and flair for elaborate jazzy song-and-dance numbers (with use of blacklight!) that I just had to have them become friends. And gradually I decided "okay. But what if...they were friends-to-lovers?" And thus, Cards & Dice was born.

Honestly I think they'd be the most fun of my OTPs to play third-wheel to. They'd get up to all kinds of villainous shenanigans, make a TON of enemies, and make a narrow getaway every time.

Also? Considering they're both more nervous on average than the average Disney villain (with Oogie being one of the only ones actively terrified of his hero, and Facilier one of the only ones seen nervous and afraid before his demise) I like to think they could help each other with their respective fears. Facilier standing up to Jack, Oogie standing up to the "Friends" (even if neither are actually powerful enough to win). Oogie just sitting and hearing Facilier out when he's freaked out about how the "Friends" might still be searching for him. Facilier saving the HBIC (that's Head Bug In Charge, aka the Brain Bug, aka the green earwig Santa squished) just in time when the rest of Oogie's body gets destroyed. That's all just so good to me.

And don't get me STARTED on them singing and dancing together, completely stealing the floor every time! They're WONDERFUL, Your Honor.

If I had to pick one song for them, it would be Poker Face by Lady Gaga. But I got like a whole playlist for them in the works lol

A New DIRECTIVE--aka AUTO/Doris

Yes, I did just come up with that name. I think it's quite good.

So this one started as like. A joke. A what-if. A "hey, they're the only robots so they oughta stick together". How did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, IT WAS ONLY A KISS

So I am a sucker for the trope where the more chaotic one breaks the orderly one out of their shell and gets them to be less rigid. What if that, but evil?

"Hey boy, how would you like to go from lawful neutral to chaotic evil?"

"I don't suffer from 'I could fix him' disease. I think I could make him worse."

Theirs is like the inverse of the "love makes the bad guy turn good" trope. Love makes the robot disobey his programming, go rogue, and help his girl take over the world.

They're like the evil version of WALL-E and EVE. Except with the roles reversed, because the guy is the one from space who wants to follow his DIRECTIVE while the girl is the one from Earth trying to be like "no dude, check this out, I can control people and stuff all by myself. We should totally rule the world, it'll be awesome."

I usually imagine this pair with humanoid android forms because it's. Kind of hard to get invested in a ship's wheel and a hat. They're both a lot less expressive in their base forms than either WALL-E or EVE, so giving them cool android forms helps. I don't imagine them as super human-looking droids though, cause if they're more obviously robots it looks cooler. Though I DO think Doris deserves a face so she can go >:D sometimes. And AUTO deserves the ability to go >o|

If I had to pick one song for them, it would be Daisy Bell by Harry Dacre. Because they're both HAL 9000 references (Doris a lot less obviously so, but she's still got that one red eye), and evil robots the way HAL was, and that's the song HAL starts singing before he's deactivated. Which in and of itself is a reference to the first speaking/singing computer-generated voice program, IBM704, which famously sang the song Daisy Bell. (there's also a Futurama episode where Bender dates a HAL 9000 reference character, and there's a montage of them doing romantic things set to Bender singing Daisy Bell. For all my fellow Futurama fans out there ;) I'd especially recommend this version, where someone had both the original IBM704 and VOCALOID4 sing the song as a duet. (Because I like the idea of Doris getting a Vocaloid or Vocaloid-like voice if she was able to speak actual words instead of that admittedly really cute droidspeak language from the movie)

There are also plenty of villain ships in this fandom that I've seen that I love (such as FireSerpent--aka Jafar/Hades--, EvilPuppies--aka Grimhilde/Cruella--, and SeaDragon--aka Ursula/Maleficent) but I wanted to talk about only the ones I developed myself, since I think the creators of those ship names would be better equipped to talk about them.

[jezy]

My Ben 10 Reboot/Grim Dawn OC-- Libra Renov! :D

Warning! Some of these parts have uncomfortable stuff, so if you don't like it. Might wanna either scroll down faster or endure it if you still wanna read it.

Libra has a lot of expertise with being a Sage of Illusions but she's also a healer and wild card in case missions go south. Which is about 50/50 percent most of the time.

She's also one of the smartest sages there is. But she sometimes focuses on the puzzles way too much so she doesn't notices anything going on around her.

Libra has a few friends but they're just a bunch of royal jerks. Except Hex, she liked him when they've met. Disa and Libra are friends too, but she trusts Hex more than anyone.

Before Libra died, she was a human with wavy chocolate brown hair with deep blue eyes and fair skin. Now, she's an aetherial with messy black charcoal hair with glowing green eyes and her skin's pale white.

She is an adopted royal, let me elaborate : Her real parents' kingdom got dethroned by another kingdom in ledgerdomain. The king and queen who has a tomboy daughter which they don't like, and resulting for said daughter to left them with no heir. So when they dethroned Libra's parents, they took toddler!Libra under their wings and taught her how to be a girly-girl princess.

At first, Libra loved it but when she grew older she became a rebellious child (in secret) and would often read her adopted father's books about magic without permission.

When she met Hex (when she first sneaked out for the first time), she realized she can be so much more than just be a useless princess in her kingdom. She could help people on the front instead of doing it behind the walls of the castle.

So ever since then, whenever she gets the chance to do something rebellious, she would do it using illusions as distraction then she helps the people in need with a disguise. (Like Robin Hood).

Her adopted parents didn't liked it obviously and were trying to figure out who would do such a thing. They still haven't found out it was her.

Libra & Hex are the "friends to lovers" couple. They're glue you can't easily separate and will hurt you if you hurt one of them.

When she found out that she's getting arranged marriage to Hex's younger brother, she didn't liked it. Yes, she knew about Hex's younger brother, Spellbinder, but she didn't liked him like that.

So when Libra & Hex became 18 years old, they eloped to Cairn and became Sages since then. They're not exactly married in legal standards, but they don't mind it one bit.

When Hex gets pissed at someone, its Libra's job to calm him down.

Since she's the only thing that stands between Hex and his anger to the whole multiverses. That is, when she died in the first cataclysmic war.

Libra deeply cares about Hex and is deeply hurt whenever Hex does something he regrets. Like, cursing his brother when Spellbinder forcefully kissed her lips.

Of course, Hex hid away from her for a few years because of the fear he'll hurt her too.

This made her depressed and longed for him, even to the point on not eating or sleeping because she misses him too much. Till Disa slaps her from her depression and yells at her to get a grip.

Libra was slightly thankful for her, even though it hurts like hell. She now learned a lesson that Hex would come back. Which he did, and Libra basically sprung out to crush him with her hug.

Libra cried rivers when Hex came back, as well as him.

After that, they now have more love to each other. Which is a blessing for the other sages since they now feared/despised Hex because of what he did.

They were peaceful, until the cataclysmic war....

Now, the cataclysmic war isn't just some war, it was a war between The Gods of Cairn and The Aetherial. (I'll probably make a post about the Aetherials and Gods of Cairn, since I can't explain everything in here)

It affected everyone even The Sages, half of the faction died including Libra. Who got trapped inside the spell of the Handmaiden Shield and burned alive by the aetherfire the aetherials had caused.

When she died, her soul got flung down deep into where the aetherials (now just spirits) had now reside. When they noticed her and found out she wasn't one of them, they tortured her for eons till they came back to take over the world. But she held it together for as long as she can take.

That was until... Theodin Marcell, The Master of Flesh, had began experimenting & reanimating the bodies of humans. He searched for test subjects (alive and/or dead) and found Libra's corpse in an ancient graveyard, and decided they will make her their most perfect masterpiece.

And so he did, first they forced Libra's soul to go into an aether crystal (a sort of physical form of aetherials). Then, he sliced open Libra's body's chest and planted the crystal inside her heart. Then he started reanimating her.

When she first came back to life, she was strapped naked in an electric chair. She tried to get out obviously until she saw Theodin Marcell coming down.

"Ah, so you're awake..."

"What do you want with me?!"

"The higher ups of the Aetherhold has accepted my request to test on you, Miss Libra Renov..."

"That still doesn't my question bastard!"

"The higher ups also want you to join our army. A special soldier, if you will."

"I'll never join you! Not after what your kind has done many eons ago!"

"Of course, I know you won't accept, so we'll do it the hard way instead..."

"Wha--" Then she screamed. Theodin had activated a switch that activated the electric chair. There were iron nails, nailed through her hands, and seemingly connected to the wires up to the switch. Making her feel the pain through her nerves system.

It hurts like hell, it felt like she was on fire. Her organs felt on fire, her brain-- Everything felt like on fire.

Theodin kept doing this to her till she threw up bile onto herself. Coughing up the remaining bile in her throat.

"Hmm, interesting, a human body can take so much of electricity before they perish. But you however, since you were blessed by the gods, you can take so much more..."

"What the hell does that mean?!"

"That means, I have to do more experiments on you. But since you just woke up, I'll let you rest. Tomorrow, we will continue, and by then... You will sooner or later become a masterpiece....."

She only glared daggers at the possessed man as she was dragged away to a cell. They threw her and pinned her down, then they chained her up against the wall to make sure she doesn't escape.

Her hands felt numb from the electrocution, her body was shivering from the cold and shaking from the electricity. Her brain felt dizzy, if she focuses too much on an area, she would throw up.

Whatever the hell Theodin has in store for her, she'll endure it. She won't break from him. She'll get out and escape as soon as she finds a way how.

Besides, how worse can it get?....

Surely it won't be too much for her? Right? She's seen disturbing things, she has the confidence that she won't break.

Oh how wrong she was...

How very wrong she was...

The next day, when she was being escorted to the experimentation room. She tried to escape.

There were many aetherial possessed soldiers and once they saw her, they started shooting at her. Unfortunately, she was hit multiple times and died.

But that wasn't the worse part, the worse part was when she started to wake up. What she saw was scarring.

Her body's opened up like some frog in a science class, she could see her organs and everything from her perspective. Bloody equipment on a table, her beating heart, and Theodin poking and putting something inside her. It was enough to make her nauseous.

"Oh? Awake already?"

She was freaking out and started to squirm a lot.

"I suggest you don't squirm, unless you want an important organ to get cut from your recklessness."

She immediately froze from his words.

"Good pet." She growled at that nickname, she was very disgusted by him.

She tried to look around for any places where she can run, or anything nearby that she can use to break out of her confinement.

But she couldn't do anything, she knows that. She can't escape and she'll just bleed out if she somehow miraculously did. She was trapped.

She had no choice but to stare at what Theodin's doing to her for hours, mortified. And when he finished stitching up the slices he made, he did one more thing.

"Oh, and since you tried to escape. A little torture will be necessary."

And so he did, by stabbing her leg unexpectedly, in which she screamed. He kept doing this to different parts of her body until she began crying and whimpering.

Her face was covered in cuts and limbs that have stabs all over them. There were a few close calls to her neck making it look like scratches.

"Oh, you're crying? That's pathetic."

"...."

"Still not answering?"

"....."

"Whatever, because of your recklessness you got shot down by our troops. So I suggest you stop being stubborn and just accept it. You can't escape. And if you do, we'll be coming after you."

Those words slowly drilled down into her brain, she tried to ignore it but couldn't. In the next few days of those horrible electrocutions and mortifying tests that include getting her shoulders dislocated in the process, she was beginning to starve.

Theodin doesn't cares though so he just ignores Libra's whimpers of starvation and continued on the experiment. Even if it means Libra gets slammed like a bruised ragdoll.

There's more, more worse than that. When Theodin realized he couldn't do more experiments on Libra due to her lack of energy. He feeds her near-expired food, by literally shoving it down her throat till she chokes on it.

She absolutely doesn't likes it and tried to escape once after that. But she got stabbed from behind her and died once more.

Everytime she tried to escape, she keeps dying. And everytime she was brought back to life, she was punished. Either it was electrocution, beating her up, stabbing her randomly, or really painful whips in the back.

Her brown hair became darker until it was charcoal black due to getting electrocuted many times, her skin was so pale that you would barely see the cuts in her face. She has spots of burns on her skin when aetherfire was shot at her, body that has stitches everywhere, and her hands was beginning to glow bright green due to prolonged exposure to electricity.

Her head hurts, a lot and her chest feels funny every time she exhausts herself.

She cries in her sleep everytime, she can't take it anymore. She is in so much pain, so much stress. That she didn't even saw the worst part that happened to her.

"Fuck you..."

"Oh my, how dirty your mouth is."

"Screw. You. I can tell whatever I want to say."

"Oh my... Don't tell me you've forgotten one of the rules of your faction... That would be very disrespectful of you."

"Wait, the rules??"

"Yes, don't you remember the faction you joined and its rules?"

"My faction? Yes, my faction!... The err... S..So...The Sorcerers!"

"You meant 'The Sages'?"

"Wait, 'Sages'??? I thought--"

"Oh don't tell me you don't remember, The Sages of Cairn? The faction you dedicated your whole life into."

"Of course I remember! Its just err..."

"You seem to have forgotten your faction."

"N-No I don't! I do remember them!"

"Oh then please, tell me all about it."

"Its..erm, ugh! Why can't I remember?!"

"So you don't remember anything? Anything in particular. Your friends, your family, even your lover?"

"I...I don't remember....." Then laughter erupted from the man, as she tried to remember.

That was the worst part, she couldn't remember anything. Her memories full of holes, fuzzy dreams with no meaning to her, and sometimes nightmares would crawl into her mind. The only thing that she held onto was her name and the name of her lover, Hex, but memories of them being together was long gone.

And soon, Theodin had managed to succumb Libra in her weakest point. Where she was easily manipulated by the aetherial....

After a couple more years of experiments, torturing, etc. She was empty both inside and out. Her eyes were dull of life, her vision (sometimes) was such a haze but she didn't really cared.

Theodin had turned the once stubborn Sage into one of his mindless (very scarred soldier) soldiers for battle.

She couldn't feel pain no longer. After what she went through, she slowly became numb to pain. Which was good for Theodin Marcell, as they now have a perfect masterpiece, ready to go and do their bidding.

But the downside is that she became a masochist so every wounds inflicted to her, was a pleasure for her instead of pain. So she had to wear a mask, so people won't find out she loved the pain on herself.

She became a Mage Hunter, a mixture of an Inquisitor and an Arcanist. She disguised herself using illusions (that she vaguely remembers) and infiltrated the barracks of The Black Legion.

She then proceeded what Theodin tells her to do, smuggle the aetherial spirits to people who are the weakess mentally and with most negative emotions.

After Malmouth had fallen she continues hunting down humans for Theodin to "make a masterpiece" out of them. That was until Hex arrived.

One day, she received a mission to protect Warden Krieg in his home. So she used a rift to get there quickly, and when she did...

She saw none other than Hex who's fighting aetherials at the moment.

She stood there staring at him, thinking about how familiar Hex is to her. Though, she didn't know it was him. Until she decided to call out for him when he was finished with killing the aetherials.

"...Hex?"

That immediately caught Hex's attention and saw Libra standing there, shock mixed with confusion.

"How do you know my name?"

"I..I don't know, but I remember someone named Hex.... I'm not sure.... I just called out to you..."

"Well people don't know my name unless--"

"I'm Libra..."

That made Hex shut up quickly and come up to her with widened eyes before hugging Libra. Her mask was quickly swept to the side as Hex kissed her.

The hug and kiss really made her feel nice and warm. Like, they've been doing this for who knows how long.

But soon, the warm feeling disappeared when he let go, "How can I know you're Libra??? She died eons ago..." He said with sadness in his voice. That was a good choice, being skeptical was a good choice.

"I don't know either.... I can't remember anything, my memories are filled with holes..."

"Can you remember maybe a little bit?"

"Well, I've been getting nightmares more recently... My dreams were always different but I think I remember burning in one of them..."

"So it really is you... What happened?"

"I'll tell you, but first, we need to go somewhere and then we can talk."

Hex only nodded and followed her to a hidden place. That was when she told him everything she remembers so far, after the end of her talking Hex looked like he was going to rip Theodin Marcell into two. Which makes her scared.

She doesn't want to lose the only warmth that she has now, she needs to protect him. That was how she betrayed the aetherials and helped Hex with his missions.

This doesn't please Theodin though....

But she doesn't care, she's obsessed with Hex's warm feeling and she doesn't want to lose it.

Even though her memories is filled with holes, Libra felt like she belongs to Hex.

And since Hex is now together with Libra again, he can help her with those hole-filled memories.

And maybe now she can slowly remember what they used to be...

Here's the current gacha design for Reboot!Hex and Libra (Since I can't draw, lel)

Hope you enjoyed it!

[freedom-in-the-dark]

James Flint Is Gay: A Meta Post

[slides into the Black Sails fandom late with Starbucks]

Hey! What’s up! Here’s a post no one asked for but I wrote mostly for me. Before we get into it, I’ve got some big notices to put on the top here.

DISCLAIMER: If you interpret James as bi, and you prefer that, I am not trying to say you can’t do that or to convince you otherwise! 

You do you! If you’re not cool with seeing him as gay, please do us both a favor and keep scrolling past this post! I’m mildly aware that this fandom has a history of rough discourse surrounding this topic, but I cannot emphasize enough that I am new here, and this post is not an attack. Please do me the courtesy of not attacking me or blocking me or whatnot because I’m not trying to start drama lol. And for what it’s worth, I myself am bi (well, bi ace), so I’d like to think I’m being objective.

This post exists simply because I like to write meta out with my arguments / evidence lined up in a row; it gets things out of my head and onto a screen, and I find it satisfying. And if I’m doing it anyway, I might as well share.

So if you see James as gay, or have an open mind to that interpretation… please allow me to take you on this adventure under the cut. I’m sure it’s obvious, but this contains spoilers? Lol.

Here we go!

Compulsory Heterosexuality vs “Bi Erasure”

Firstly… to address some stuff I’ve seen in my limited Black Sails fandom travels right out of the gate: I’ve seen people imply that interpreting James as gay is “bi erasure,” or they ask “Why are you erasing that James was attracted to Miranda and had an affair with her?”

But to that I say: it’s far more complicated than that.

Gay people can have sexual relationships with people of the opposite sex, especially until / or before they identify as gay. This is how so many gay people can be married to the opposite sex and have biological kids, and then later realize their truth and come out to themselves and their families. Having those experiences or even some variation of actionable attraction to people of other sexes in the past doesn’t negate their ability to later identify as gay, once they stop burying those parts of themselves and/or experience something that “brings that part of them into the light.”

This is why the phrase compulsory heterosexuality exists. The phrase was originally coined by Adrienne Rich in a 1980 essay titled “Compulsory Heterosexuality and the Lesbian Experience.” So yes, let me make this clear: this term originated in reference to lesbians and feminist theory, and then the idea was later expanded upon to include discussions of gay men by other academics in the early 2000s. I’m not gonna dive too deeply into it here, but in essence–as the name implies–this is the idea that patriarchal and heteronormative societies are viewed as the default, so individuals are assumed (by themselves and otherwise) to be heterosexual until “proven” otherwise. Through these standards that are seen as “normal,” people are also taught from a young age–whether explicitly or subconsciously through society–that anything that deviates from those ~straight norms~ leads to negative consequences. And so, society encourages people to avoid sexual exploration, because having experiences with someone of the same sex is what can often bring their gay identity into focus.

In the case of Black Sails, this is all very much emphasized at the forefront because it’s a historical drama. Aside from racism/slavery, patriarchy and heteronormativity are what the characters are actively going to war against.

So, the point in me defining all of this? No one—or at least, not me—is saying that James didn’t have a sexual relationship with Miranda. That’s not in question. But that doesn’t necessarily make him bi, and it doesn’t mean the narrative isn’t structured in various ways that indicate otherwise.

Just keep this in the back of your brain, because I’m going to circle back around to it.

Anne, Flint, & Gay Rage

In the wise words of an old pirate captain: “Fruit, fruit. Tits, tits.” This show thrives on parallels, and gives us lines / scenes that apply to more than one character; it’s partially why the themes are so consistent, and if you ignore that, you can miss a lot of the nuance. Our resident angry gay gingers are one of the paralleled sets of characters.

This is not a meta about Anne… but talking about parts of Anne’s story can help to highlight some things about James’ story.

I tweeted this once: “Flint and Anne’s sexualities paralleled to show struggles with compulsive heterosexuality, fighting for the sake of fighting, bringing parts of themselves into the light, wrestling with being told they’re monsters and their distorted senses of self, etc.” and really, now I’m just here to elaborate.

-----

The word “monster” is a recurring theme in this show. It’s tied mostly to Flint and how he is told he is monstrous for loving a man, fears being “the villain” or “monster” in everyone’s stories, and eventually embraces that monstrous portrayal in service of his goals–even as the violence is slowly devastating to him. But the other character the word “monster” is used in reference to? Anne.

A quote by Max:

“Idelle, how would you feel if the one man you thought would never betray you did? If he purchased for himself a future through that betrayal? If you were told by a world full of men that that betrayal confirmed for them that they were right to see you as a monster to be shunned? She's not mad. She is adrift.”

In some ways, this quote is also the story of what has happened to James in his life, over and over. (Not to say this is what Jack intended to do to Anne, but the parallels inherent in Max’s line itself cannot be denied.) 

James is repeatedly betrayed by those he trusts: Admiral Hennessey; Peter Ashe; Hal Gates. All of them try to get him to conform to heteronormative society–including Gates, because even if he didn’t know it, that’s what he was doing by trying to get James to take a pardon. That’s why James reacts with such instinctual panic and kills him; the idea of being forced to apologize to and assimilate back into heteronormative society puts him at a breaking point. (It can even be argued that Miranda “betrays” James in this way too by trying to get him to take a pardon and go to Boston–which is where his “and they called me a monster” speech comes in–and that also contributed to how James later panics and kills Gates for trying to force him to do the same. Miranda tried in a well-meaning way to get James to move on, because she isn’t fully understanding what James wrestles with; but I’ll go back to that.)

Again, these parallels are deliberate. Anne and Flint are the two main gay characters who wrestle with their supposed “monstrosity” in the eyes of everyone else, because they don’t fit in. They are “othered.” It’s not simply about their violence; for these characters, it’s about what their violence is in service of achieving, which is tied to their sexuality.

Anne is seen as a “monster” for slaughtering the men who abused Max, who is not only a fellow woman but also a fellow lesbian, in a way that Anne is undeniably drawn to even before she lets herself acknowledge the feeling. We as viewers are meant to see this and understand this, and we do. Anne is ostracized for violence that was motivated by her sexuality, which is partially why Max tells her that she understands her violence and will protect her–because Max is not only also a woman in a patriarchal society, but she is gay too.

Flint is seen as a “monster” first and foremost by England, for his sexuality… and then, later, by everyone else for the actions he takes because of his sexuality. Again: the violence he commits cannot be divorced from his sexuality because it is the reason for it. It’s what informs it.

I tweeted about this once too, but in many ways Anne and Flint’s kindred displays of brutality and anger and “fighting for the sake of fighting” (a quote by Miranda which applies to them both) are informed by their desire/need for gay tenderness. The world has too often denied them that tenderness and their expressions of their sexualities, or demonized them for wanting it, and their violence is the result. 

Here’s a quote from Deborah Tolman with regards to how compulsory heterosexuality affects men, which she calls “hegemonic masculinity”:

"These norms demand that men deny most emotions, save for anger; be hard at all times and in all ways; engage in objectification of women and sex itself; and participate in the continuum of violence against women."

The anger and hardness is a huge part of the personas both Flint and Anne have to put on for survival. I include Anne in this because she uniquely lives her life in a “male” role to survive the male-dominated world of piracy, and she’s clearly not immune from these unspoken masculine guidelines: she refers to Max as “the whore” half the time as a defense mechanism. Flint and Anne lash out, they’re hard and angry and violent for the sake of their personas, and it’s all because... inside, they just want to be soft and gay with who they love.

Anne, Flint, & Compulsory Heterosexuality (Not Bi Erasure)

In Black Sails, we are shown the story of a gay person who has a consistent sexual relationship with someone of the opposite sex, but is running from internal truths about themselves in some ways in the process. That person is Anne.

Struggling with compulsory heterosexuality is explicitly Anne Bonny’s prime storyline in the show and that is not up for debate (and I’ve rarely seen people disagree); but I argue that it is also part of James’ storyline, and he is paralleled significantly with Anne to make that clear. It’s just overall more subtle because it’s not the prime focus of James’ story the way it is for Anne, because James’ realizations happened largely in the past and we’re seeing the aftermath of it. The parallels are there, and I’ll be breaking some of them down.

----

From episode one, we are told that Anne has a sexual relationship with Jack…. But later on, she tells Jack that she “can’t be [his] wife,” even though they’ll be partners forever. Why? What changed? The answer is that she’s been with Max and realized that she’s gay. It doesn’t mean Anne didn’t have sex with a man in the past and even enjoy it on some level, but it does mean that she knows now that she was using that sex partially to distract from things about herself that she was doing her best to ignore.

Multiple lines by Max (to Anne) tell us this:

3x03: “When you and I began you did not choose me. Something that lives inside you beyond choice made it so.”

2x01: “But perhaps there is something else underlying it. Something hiding in a place not even you can see. Perhaps… we would do well to bring it into the light.”

Before I continue, let me remind you of something: when writers decide to show viewers something on screen, that is done with intent, especially in a show like Black Sails where not a single moment is wasted. Remember this. What they show us, and what they don’t show us, are both deliberate choices.

So what are we shown about Anne’s sexual relationship with Jack? We get exactly one scene of her having sex with him. We are shown Anne riding Jack in a way where neither party was particularly enthused. Does this mean they definitely never had sex in the past that they both enjoyed on some level? No. But they showed us this one scene on purpose: to emphasize the stark difference when Anne has enjoyable sex with Max, an experience that forever changes her.

So what are we shown about James’ sexual relationship with Miranda? We get exactly one scene of him having sex with her. It is the most depressing sex scene of all time, James is just lying there to try to be helpful for her to chase her own pleasure, and he doesn’t even touch her. Does this mean they never had sex in the past that they both enjoyed, especially back during their affair in London? No. But we are never shown any of that. We never see them have sex in London before James’ relationship with Thomas; we never see them having good sex with each other after it all goes to hell. And that is a deliberate choice.

Why? Because all of the above info about Anne and her compulsory heterosexuality journey also applies to James McGraw, and his relationships with Miranda and Thomas.

“They paint the world full of shadows... and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons, their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn't true. We can prove that it isn't true. In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it.”

The realizations James came to about his sexuality (just like Anne did) inform much of his tangled story with the Hamiltons, and much of the tragedy of Miranda and James’ situation after the loss of Thomas. We are shown the way James and Miranda are no longer perfectly aligned after that loss, and grief is undeniably a part of it… but it goes beyond that. It’s more complicated than that. 

That sad sex scene is not solely about grief; remember, that scene takes place ten years after they lose Thomas. It takes place during a time where Miranda is already thinking about and will soon actively try to tell James that they need to move on, without understanding why the loss of Thomas affects him in a profoundly different way than it affects her. I am not minimizing her loss or her grief whatsoever; but it is undeniably more complicated for James, and it’s why he can’t move on.

In episode 1x07:

James: “Have you no memory of how we got here? What they took from us?”

Miranda: “What does it matter now? What does it matter? What does it matter what happened then if we have no life now?”

James is, of course, appalled by this. I’ll talk about why momentarily.

The next time James is in Nassau (2x03), he goes to see Miranda and tries to apologize that night, but she’s otherwise engaged. So he stands outside of her window looking in, surrounded by darkness, while she’s playing the clavichord with children in the light. It is symbolically the domestic version of a heterosexual ideal. He is “othered” by the camera angles / framing, and the dark / light aspects. James is relegated to being an outsider literally because as Flint he’s a pirate, but metaphorically because he’s gay; the reason we as viewers are given that scene is to underscore that he feels he has no place in that display.

Ultimately, James is misaligned with Miranda after the loss of Thomas (shown in both the sad sex scene and arguments) in a way that goes beyond grief. The implication is that things cannot ever be the same for him again since the loss of “his truest love” and the truths he learned about himself.

If James and Miranda were simply at odds with one another because of grief, it would be far less of a “tragedy” in some ways. But James cannot heal the way Miranda slowly finds the way to over ten years, because Thomas signifies things for James that Miranda cannot relate to. In London, when Thomas is taken from them, Miranda even yells to James, “He is my husband!” Her grief and rage are shown as equal to James at the start and have extreme validity; the two of them are partners in the plan to kill Alfred Hamilton for revenge; but then she is able to somewhat move on, whereas James is not.

Why? Because, for James, Thomas was not just his (truest) love; Thomas was the awakening of his fullest self as a gay man.

In the same way that Anne can’t be Jack’s “wife” after she’s been with Max and realizes she’s gay, James cannot content himself with fulfilling the role of Miranda’s “husband” after he’s been with Thomas and realizes he’s gay. Neither of these facts minimize Anne’s love and devotion to Jack, or James’ love and devotion to Miranda; they are undeniably two sets of partners. But Anne and James are forever altered by their experiences with same sex lovers, and the truths about themselves that were brought into the light as a result.

----

Another part of the tragedy of James and Miranda is what happens right when we see Miranda grasp the significance of all of the above. Whether or not she grasped it before in the past, we are shown it only once on screen, and that’s in Charlestown. 

Peter Ashe says this in 2x09:

“You will tell them about the affair with Thomas. You will tell them how it ended. You will explain to them what it drove you to do. You will reveal everything. And when you do, Captain Flint will be unmasked, the monster slain. And in his place will stand before all the world a flawed man, a man that England can relate to and offer its forgiveness.”

This is James’ worst nightmare; we know as such from what he told Miranda back in 1x07, and from when he killed Gates. And yet, here and now in 2x09, he is exhausted from pushing back against heteronormative society, all he wants is to retire the mantle of Flint born of gay rage, and he actually contemplates playing by their rules and giving into their judgements of his sexuality... until Miranda comes to his defense.

In season 1, Miranda didn’t seem to fully understand James’ thoughts on this, but here–in combination with her realizations about Peter Ashe’s betrayals–she finally does. And she’s not having it.

“What forgiveness are you entitled to while you stand back in the shadows pushing James out in front of the world to be laid bear for the sake of the truth? Tell me, sir, when does the truth about your sins come to light?”

And the moment she is yelling in rage on behalf of James, and their combined loss, and how Peter would dare to force James to experience shame about his sexuality again–she is instantly shot for it. A woman who’s yelling on behalf of a gay man? In a patriarchal heteronormative society? It has no place. England makes that clear.

It all further underlines James’ sense of “otherness”... and now he decides to embrace it, even at his own emotional detriment. He will no longer try to fit in or reason with them; he will no longer accept their halfway measures of pardons. He can’t, because in the eyes of England, all that he is as a gay man is abhorrent.

2x10: “Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.”

3x05, to the Maroon Queen: “...England takes whatever, whenever, however it wants. Lives. Loves. Labor. Spirits. Homes. It has taken them from me. I imagine that it has taken it from you.”

The Way James Views Miranda

And here is where I simply give you more food for thought–or further “evidence” of James being gay, if you will.

All of Flint’s lines about how he views Miranda are worded very, very deliberately.

Here’s a minor one, from 1x05:

“So you can probably guess it isn't as much fun to tell stories about how your captain makes a home with a nice Puritan woman who shares his love of books.”

There is nothing overtly romantic or sexual about this. It’s said in a one-on-one conversation with Billy, where Flint neither has to make the relationship sound like something it isn’t nor refuse to give any info whatsoever. So he goes with what is the seemingly-mild truth.

But 3x01, convincing the men to forego pardons:

“But what price surrender? To beg forgiveness from a thing that took my woman from me? My friend?”

“My woman” is what Flint says for the benefit of the men… these men who are part of the heteronormative world they all live in, and still value sexual relationships with women above all else. It’s about hegemonic masculinity, remember? (“Objectification of women and sex itself.”) He’s doing his best to speak their language. 

But “my friend” is a secondary line that was not needed for the purposes of this speech, but James could not keep himself from adding it in a quieter tone–because that’s who Miranda was to him. His friend. Not his woman, which drips sexism and sexual undertones. Not his wife. Not even his “love,” which he could’ve used if he wanted to be ambiguous and sneak a Thomas reference in; he said “my woman” to appeal to the men, and then he added “my friend” because in the face of her memory he couldn’t help it.

And lastly, in 3x03, we begin to hear from “ghost Miranda.” 

But what is ghost Miranda? She’s a voice from James’ traumatized mind. Everything she says to him is about truths he already knows and/or things he is hiding from himself. So what “she�� says here is a voice from James’ mind; it’s about how James sees her, and subtly elaborates on his sexuality in the process.

“When I first met you, you were so... Unformed. And then I spoke and bade you cast aside your shame, and Captain Flint was born into the world... the part of you that always existed yet never were you willing to allow into the light of day. I was mistress to you when you needed love. I was wife to you when you needed understanding. But first and before all... I was mother. I have known you like no other. So I love you like no other. I will guide you through it, but at its end is where you must leave me. At its end is where you will find the peace that eludes you, and at its end lies the answer you refuse to see.”

This does not diminish Miranda’s importance to James in the least! In fact, it emphasizes it, and it is all part of why he is so ruined over her! But it is also, in the oddest way, an elaboration upon how he isn’t bi: Miranda was his partner in many things, including shared grief and revenge and some semblance of life for ten long years; and she was also was instrumental to his formation of himself as a person (“mother”), and his acceptance of himself as a gay man (“love” and “understanding”). This is how he sees her. Mistress and wife were roles she filled in his life, but above all, she contributed to the birth of Captain Flint–the personification of James’ gay rage.

Of course, the “answer” that ghost Miranda (the depths of James’ brain) alludes to here as well as her later words of “you are not alone” are all about James needing to recognize that Silver is a newfound partner and love for him… but that’s a whole other meta entirely.

Closing Thoughts

Look, did I consult a couple of specific scenes and look up transcripts to put quotes in this? Yes. But have I still only seen the show in its entirety once? Also yes. My point in mentioning this is that, if I did a full rewatch, there might even be more evidence I haven’t mentioned here. This isn’t meant to be comprehensive, but I do feel that it... certainly conveys the gist of the mood.

You may still agree to disagree if you prefer to see James Flint as bi; I’m not here to fight you on it and what queer characters mean to you personally. 

But for me, when surveying all available evidence, the narrative screams that he’s gay. In that sense, my thoughts on this matter are similar to my thoughts on the ending; sure, you can interpret it one way if you look at certain details, but if you take in all the evidence and the big picture as a whole… there’s a specific conclusion to be drawn.

Last thing I’ll say is this: Steinberg himself has said that Flint is gay, which I found out way after watching the show and forming this interpretation. And like... not that if I wanted to hardcore argue he was bi I wouldn’t disregard Steinberg’s words, because in my experience the narrative speaking for itself is always more important than than creators’ words, but... in this instance (as in all Black Sails instances I’ve come across), his words just underscore what the well-crafted narrative is already telling us, because the creators wrote this show with intent. They knew what they were doing.

And thus, I will quote him (from these GIFs) below.

“When we were trying to build the story, we wanted whatever this thing was that made [Flint] feel alienated to be so deeply tied into who he was that there was no way he was every going to dismiss this thing that happened to him. We wanted to make sure we understood what the reality was in England in terms of how homosexuality was perceived. In some ways it was more tolerated, in some ways it was significantly less tolerated. I think in terms of Flint being gay, it’s about the fact that it is a tool that is used politically when convenient to make somebody be a monster… and it isn’t even really about the relationship.”

(If you buy the series on iTunes, you get an “inside” look at every episode, including this one from 2x05.)

EDIT: I had no idea Toby Stephens basically confirmed my thoughts that James' relationship with Thomas was his actualization as a gay man, so excuse me as I lose my mind for a moment:

“I think his relationship to Thomas Hamilton, the initial friendship and then becoming lovers is sort of like the realization of himself. I think he became himself with Thomas Hamilton. His potential was unleashed with Hamilton.”

And just for fun, since I’m here anyway, here’s a piece of a Steinberg quote about Anne from the Fathoms Deep podcast.

“In terms of Rackham and Bonny, I think that was another thing that I assumed for a long time could never go away. That they were essentially, you know, that they were married. You know not legally, but they were functionally married. And then this story happened in Season 2 with Bonny, that I think with like with a gun to my head of things that I’m proud of with the show, probably at the top is this story of this woman coming out and understanding that she’s gay. . . And so when we got to a point where it was like, I think she’s gay? Like I don’t think this is something we want to be wishy-washy about. It required getting over that hump with Rackham of, ‘Well like what am I going to do with this relationship? I don’t want to split them up?’ And I think it became something way more interesting.”

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. I love James Flint and his gay rage, I love you if you read all of this, and I love my friend @sunbardy who dealt with me yelling about this in DMs and then proofread the doc.

Hit me up on Twitter @gaypiracy if you want, where I do most of my Black Sails related yelling. And shitposting. Because I contain multitudes.

Know No Shame, my friends.

[artificialqueens]

Good Morning Campers, Chapter 1 (Crystal x Gigi) - Gelato

It was another beautiful summer at Camp Blue Springs.

At the start of every June, hundreds of girls flooded to Kansas City, Missouri for seven straight weeks of fun in the sun. Filled with activities from sunrise to sunset, it was the ultimate sleep away camp experience.

Busses filled with excited young ladies, ranging in age from 12 to 17, pulled swiftly into the entrance of the sprawling camp that was nestled just off of Lake Blue Springs. It wasn’t long before thrilled campers began filing out, the once silent camp ground now filled with their voices as they unloaded their bags and reconnected with one another. Some girls were local, others having to endure lengthier trips to reach their destination via bus from across the state or country.

Others had the luxury of a first class seat followed by a private car ride from the airport, a certain leggy red head from California being amongst those few.

Gigi Goode had been a model camper since the summer of ‘84, and was practically bursting with joy at the opportunity to be a Junior Counselor for the class of ‘89. She not only adored the camp and the friends she had made over the years, but was even more thrilled for the volunteer hours she would rack up over the summer to add to her already impressive college applications.

She stepped gingerly out of her private town car onto the dirt road of the camp’s entrance and didn’t hesitate to fill her lungs with fresh, pine-scented air. It truly was her happy place, the great outdoors, the glistening lake,

The girls.

She quite literally shook that last thought from her head. What sort of upstanding young woman from Los Angeles would think such a thing?

It was easy to ignore back home. Spending all her time with school activities, her family, even managing to drum up a relationship with the captain of the lacrosse team. Oh yes, she had the perfect life down pat. The perfect daughter to her parents, a straight A student, the captain of the cheer squad, and a cute athletic boyfriend to match.

But she always felt something was missing deep down inside. A certain itch that needed scratching. Something that she busied herself to no end in order to forget. Something that became that much harder to ignore when it was quite literally in her face. Hundreds of girls, and one camper in particular that always managed to catch her eye.

Crystal Methyd from cabin 702.

She cursed herself after noticing she had been scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a wisp of blue hair amongst them.

“Is that Gigi Goode I see?” A chipper voice snapped her out of her trance. A curvy woman with perfectly quaffed hair and secretary glasses, complete with a clipboard in hand made her way to Gigi.

“Mrs. Davis!” Gigi exclaimed, happy to greet the camp’s director. They embraced briefly, Gigi overjoyed to see the woman that acted as a second mother to her over the years.

“It’s so good to see you, dear! We’re so excited to have you on the team this year. Well, so much to get started on. Once you’ve unloaded your bags we’ll all gather in the pavilion, so keep an ear out for bunk announcements!” Mrs. Davis instructed with a smile before disappearing into the over zealous crowd.

——-

Gigi had a carry on bag and two large suitcases absolutely stuffed with clothes, although they had a uniform code in place. She always accessorized her plain white camp t-shirts and shoes with cute tennis skirts, and of course hoards of fashionable casual pieces on hand to wear for other camp events. Others couldn’t really afford to travel so heavy, but luckily her family paid her driver handsomely to unload each bag with care.

She made her way to the pavilion, running into and latching on to her camp clique along the way.

Gigi, Nicky, Violet, and Naomi had been fast friends since meeting one another on the lake over the years. Each one hailed from wealthy families across the country, or in Nicky’s case, across the Atlantic, as she was the only international camper and traveled all the way from Paris to be here.

They all shared similar passions in excelling in both the beauty and brains department, and had luckily all been bunked together for the years prior, expecting this summer to be no exception.

“I can’t wait for the volleyball tournament, I’ve been practicing my serve all year.” Naomi shared, pleased for the opportunity to show off her athletic prowess.

“Speak for yourself. I can’t stand sweating. I’m just ready for the midsummer formal!” Violet interjected. Having spent all her time back home at an all girl’s catholic school, and summers at an all girl’s camp, she was more than ready for the one night a year that the Blue Mountain’s camp for boys across the lake merged with their own for a dance.

Gigi cringed internally at the thought. She loved the idea of dressing up, having brought several gowns to choose from for the event, but dreaded the idea of a sweaty teenaged boy approaching her for a dance. She barely danced at formals with her boyfriend back home for the similar reason of simply not caring for a man’s touch.

She was taken out of her thoughts by boisterous laughter across from where they were seated in the pavilion. Her head snapped toward the disruption.

Oh no.

The Strange Gang.

Camp wasn’t without its cliques. You put that many teenaged girls together and they were bound to group off with one another.

You had the athletic types, always on the courts and fields. The nerds, spending all their free times bird watching and studying plants and wild life along the lake. The “Heathers”, or so they had only recently been dubbed by their fellow campers the previous year since the movie had been released. Gigi and her friends figured it was better than the “Rich bitches”, and embraced the new name for their entourage.

And then there was the “Strange Gang”. A group of self proclaimed weirdos of the camp. And boy, did they live up to the name. They were often known for elaborate pranks and general mischief.

Crystal, Adore, Katya, and Evie. All grouped together, they were a mess of wild makeup, unnatural colored hair, and body piercings that they somehow got past the Senior Counselors. Gigi, having disdain for any sort of disorder or disruption, loathed them.

Especially Crystal. The loudest and most daring of the group. Breaking dress code left and right with her bright blue hair and gaudy accessories from head to toe. She was always laughing and smiling from ear to ear.

The cutest laugh and most beautiful smile Gigi had ever seen.

But she wouldn’t ever admit that.

“Great. You’d think after years of being social outcasts they wouldn’t bother coming back.” Gigi huffed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at the group.

Her eyes locked with Crystal across the pavilion. Had she been staring at her this whole time? Crystal quickly noticed Gigi gazing back at her and her smile grew even wider. She wiggled her fingers in a dainty wave toward the red head.

Gigi flushed pink and quickly averted her eyes. She hated how Crystal made her feel. Almost like she was teasing her. As if she knew exactly how she made her heart beat faster with every look her direction.

“Good morning, Campers!” Miss Davis captured the attention of the crowd with her megaphone from the center stage of the pavilion. The girls shouted a greeting in response.

“Let me just start off by saying how excited we are to have all of you here! We look forward to having the most memorable summer yet! Now listen closely for your bunk assignments. I’ll be starting with our Junior Counselors. As you hear your name, please gather your bags and make your way to the cabins. In bunk 700, that’s 7-0-0, we have miss Trixie Mattel, Courtney Act, Violet Chachki, and Naysha Lopez.” Mrs. Davis announced.

“What? We’re being separated? That can’t be right. I put in a request that we would be together!” Violet couldn’t contain her rage, gesturing between her and Gigi. She flagged down Mrs. Davis from the front row of the stage and pleaded with her to make a change.

“I’m sorry dear, bunk assignments are final until further notice. You’ll just have to make new friends until then.” Mrs. Davis apologized half heartedly before continuing her announcements.

“Hey, it’s alright. I have it good with Mrs. Davis, I’ll just talk to her about it in her office later, we’ll get it fixed.” Gigi whispered assuredly to her heated friend.

“Fine!” Violet exasperated, grabbing her bags and storming from the pavilion to the cabin grounds.

“Now for Cabin 701, that’s 7-0-1, we have Alexis Mateo, Brooke Lynn Heights, Gigi Goode-“

Gigi practically jumped from her seat and began to grab her things, excited to make her way to the bunks.

“- and Crystal Methyd!” Mrs. Davis finished.

Gigi froze.

There was no way. No how. This was some sort of sick joke. One of the Strange Gang’s pranks for sure. How could a trouble maker land a spot as a Junior Counselor?

Her head went dizzy, vision got fuzzy, heart raced, and palms began to sweat. She barely made out the bouncing, teal haired figure that bounded toward her from across the room, a Lisa Frank duffle slung over her shoulder, the stone necklaces around her neck jingling with every step.

“Hi roomie! Need help with your bags?” Crystal greeted warmly, her sweet voice dripping with sincerity and excitement.

Gigi tried her best to return to the surface, but was too late.

She fainted right there on the pavilion’s wooden floors.

———

Gigi’s eyes fluttered open and she let out a soft groan, immediately noticing a sharp twang at the back of her head. Her hand instantly darted between her head and the pillow it rested on to feel the tight knot that had formed from her nasty fall.

Her eyes stayed gazing up at the ceiling, realizing quickly from the florescent lighting and the smell of rubbing alcohol that she had been laying in the infirmary.

“The nurse said not to let you touch it.” A voice piped up next to her.

Gigi’s head snapped quickly to her side, dread quickly filling her once again as she noticed Crystal sitting cross legged in a lounge chair not two feet away. Her eyes zoned in on the flash of hot pink panties visible up Crystal’s skirt from the way she sat. She instantly blushed red from noticing and looked away.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sit that way with a skirt on? You can see right up it.” She partly fiend anger at the unexpected view.

“Oh, sorry.” Crystal giggled and untucked her legs from underneath each other to sit more properly in the chair. She straightened her back and placed her hands in her lap, her sweet smile never moving from her lips.

“It’s whatever. What are you doing here anyway?” Gigi continued, trying her best to sound more annoyed than elated. She secretly didn’t mind waking up to Crystal by her side, but she wasn’t about to let her know that.

“Mrs. Davis thought it would be best if you had someone to walk with you back to the bunks.” Crystal explained, bouncing up from her perch on the lounge chair and making her way to sit at the edge of Gigi’s infirmary bed.

Her backside sat flush with Gigi’s waist and without a thought, her hand rested on her thigh. Gigi inhaled deeply and tried to remain calm, swiftly sitting up and effectively pulling herself from Crystal’s touch.

“Well, you didn’t have to wait. I’m sure one of my friends will be here any minute to help me back.” Gigi huffed. She was still dizzy from the fall, otherwise she would have left right then and there on her own.

Crystal’s smile fell a bit and her brow furrowed.

“Are you sure? It’s been about two hours..” She replied softly. Her head tilted to the side as she gazed questioningly back at Gigi like a confused puppy.

Gigi’s heart broke slightly from the sense of abandonment by her so called friends, but warmed a little from Crystal’s obvious concern.

It was sweet.

She realized how difficult it would be to keep up this charade of hating her. But her reputation with her friends and the entire camp was on the line. She pulled herself out of her thoughts and emotions.

“Fine. I’ll just go myself.” Gigi replied, not daring to look Crystal in the eye before pulling herself out of the bed and heading straight for the door.

Sore head or not, she couldn’t stay in that room any longer.

——-

Crystal sat puzzled and stared blankly at the empty pillow where Gigi’s head once laid. She reached out and brushed her lime-green painted fingers across it.

It was still warm to the touch.

She really could have left long ago. Hell, she didn’t even have to follow the camp medics as they carried Gigi back to the infirmary. But she insisted on sticking by her side.

The little crush she had on the most popular girl at camp had blossomed into a full blown obsession. She looked forward to every summer spent here, saving every penny earned at the Springfield bowling alley to finance her camp expenses.

She had made great friends along the way, but in all reality she kept coming back for a chance to see Gigi.

“Well, that blows.” She whispered to herself with an exhale, popping up from her seat on the bed and making her way out of the cabin.

She was greeted right away by Adore who had been waiting at the doorway.

“How’d it go?” Her friend asked, raising her eyebrows in question, a coy smile playing at her lips.

“Struck out.” Crystal replied with a shake of the head.

“Yeah, I figured.” Adore laughed, making her way down the infirmary stares ahead of her friend.

“What? And why is that?” Crystal fiend offense.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something about how she practically ran out of here without you anywhere in sight.” Adore laughed uncontrollably, earning herself a playful shove from Crystal.

“I’m still hopeful!” Crystal exclaimed, jumping on Adore’s back for a piggy back ride.

“More like hopeless.” Adore replied jokingly, happily carting Crystal back to the bunks.

____

The Junior Counselor’s cabins had their perks.

Instead of the usual eight to a space, there were only four, meaning more space for each girl to sprawl out and personalize their areas. Gigi had been looking forward to choosing her spot in the cabin and making it her own, so you could only imagine her annoyance that she had missed out at first pick.

The only beds left were across from one another in the back of the cabin, no where near the bright bay window she had dreamed of laying next to at night to watch the moon.

Her bags had already been set next to the bed on the far left side. It sat in a corner under cobwebs and was practically in the dark compared to the other two across the cabin. She flopped onto it, burying her face in her arms and letting out a near silent sob, thankful that her bunkmates hadn’t been there.

This day couldn’t have gotten any worse, or so she thought until she heard now familiar footsteps followed by jangling, chunky jewelry. She quickly sucked her tears back in and wiped away whatever was left on her face.

Crystal slung her duffle bag on top of the empty bed across from Gigi. She hadn’t planned on sleeping this close to her, but did a happy dance in her head at how well it all worked out in her favor.

“Sorry, it’s the only one left.” Crystal apologized to Gigi softly before unloading her belongings onto her bed.

It was amazing how much she could fit into that Lisa Frank duffle. Clothes, shoes, endless necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. She even managed to pack a leopard print blanket and multicolored stuffed animals to decorate with.

Gigi still laid on her stomach, turning her head slightly at the noise Crystal was making while unpacking. She stared in awe at how the wooden walls of the room’s corner now exploded with color.

It had just then registered in her head what Crystal had said just moments before. She.. apologized? Gigi immediately felt guilty. She was a lot of things, but rich and beautiful didn’t make her a bully. That was more Violet and Nicki’s territory. Crystal had really been nothing but sweet to her this whole time, her reputation as a trouble maker aside.

“I’m sorry.” Gigi stated plainly.

Crystal looked back at the red head, confused and taken aback at the unexpected apology.

Gigi sat up.

“Thank you for waiting with me. I guess I was just in a grumpy mood after waking up. I should have thanked you instead of being such a bitch, huh?” Gigi laughed slightly, hoping to God that there were no hard feelings.

“You weren’t a bitch.” Crystal laugh along with her, turning around completely and walking over to Gigi’s side to plop herself beside her.

Their laughter died down and the two sat in silence for a few moments. Gigi took all of Crystal in.

She hadn’t noticed how long and beautiful her legs were. She had a sun-kissed complexion, a stark contrast to Gigi’s milky white skin. Her blue hair, that Gigi once thought to be tacky, actually suited her and tied in well with her dark, almond shaped eyes. She had sharp cheek bones that balanced perfectly with a slender, yet soft face.

Her full, pillowy lips were next. Painted a baby pink with a swipe of shimmery gloss. Lips she had always daydreamed about feeling on her own. How would those lips feel on her neck? Her chest? Between her legs?

They inched closer, slowly bridging the gap between them.

This was happening.

This was real.

Gigi looked into Crystal’s eyes, almost as if asking permission. For what? She had no idea. Maybe just to keep moving closer. Crystal bit her lip lightly and nodded her head slowly. Her eyes locked onto Gigi’s lips.

The door busted open, Nicki and Naomi storming in. Gigi quickly backed away, realizing only then how close her and Crystal’s lips were to touching.

“There you are! See, Naomi, I told you she would be back here by now.” Nicki said, gesturing to Gigi who now hurriedly stood from her bed.

Crystal snapped out of her state of shock at both what had just transpired between her and Gigi and the sudden intrusion.

“Well, that one said she wouldn’t be up for hours so excuse me for thinking she was still in the infirmary.” Naomi rolled her eyes and gestured flippantly at Crystal.

Gigi’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wait, you came for me?” She asked her friends, suddenly realizing that they hadn’t abandoned her after all. She looked sharply at Crystal, who was now flushed red.

“Of course we came for you. But your little.. friend wouldn’t let us wake you. She said she would see you back herself.” Nicki continued, her brow raised and she crossed her arms.

So Crystal had lied, Gigi thought. For what? She wondered. She shook her head clean of that thought. And with it, shook away everything that had just happened between the two of them in the cabin just then.

“Let’s get out of here.” She sneered, shooting a dirty look in Crystal’s direction before storming out of the cabin with the other two Heather’s in tow.

Crystal sighed and beat herself up mentally for thinking she could get away with stretching the truth earlier. She chastised herself for being so selfish.

Back to square one.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

A Worthy Sacrifice

Notes:

This is what happens when I’m not careful about what shows I watch on the idiot box in close proximity. In this case, an episode of BBC’s excellent Horrible Histories, closely followed by Thunderbirds Are Go! Episode “Attack of the Reptiles”.

And, yes, the Roman Emperor Caligula was rather keen on people honouring their promises to the Gods, and did make people honour their promises to the Gods to exchange their lives for his after he recovered from a potentially deadly ‘brain fever’. I mean, technically, he wasn’t wrong … but sheesh!

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

 ____________________________________________________

 Gordon pulled frantically at the starter on the hoverboat’s engine, resolutely ignoring the noises coming from behind him.

“Come on! I’ll give up Celery Crunch Bars for a year if you’ll please just start!”

One final pull, as the Pentergasts cried out, and …

The engine caught.

“Yes!”

 High above Tracy Island, aboard Thunderbird Five, John flicked off the holographic recording and paused, smiling.

“Give up Celery Crunch Bars for a year? You might just need a little help to honour that promise, Gordon. And I know who can help you with that.”

“Ugh,” Alan moaned pitifully, “I mean, who cares?”

“Who cares about what, Alan?” The voice made Alan jump, how all two-hundred-plus pounds of Virgil managed to sneak up on him in steel-cap boots, he would never understand.

“History,” Alan moaned. The wonky eyebrow raised at him. “Ancient Roman history,” Alan amended, still hoping for sympathy.

“A lot of the basic principles of engineering were set out by the Ancient Romans,” Virgil commented. Alan rolled his eyes. Trust Virgil find a way to relate to a bunch of dress-wearing guys dead for nearly two thousand years. He’d be lucky, if Virgil didn’t start on about their art, to boot.

The holographic projector built into the kitchen bench flared into life, the halo of light resolving into John’s torso floating serenely in mid-air. “Virgil, good, you’re here, too.”

“What’s up, John, is it an emergency? A space emergency!?”

“No, there’s no emergency. This is more a … social call.”

Both brothers paused, “John, is everything … okay?” Virgil asked cautiously.

“Everything is fine, Gordon and the Pendergasts have managed to escape the facility, and Scott is about to make an extraction. How’s your shoulder, Virgil?”

Virgil scowled, one hand automatically going to rub the shoulder that had been strained as he had tried to keep from falling into the sea from the severed evacuation tube the previous mission. He was saved from answering by Alan.

“John, you don’t do social anything,” Alan pointed out with his trademark lack of tact.

“What are you supposed to be studying, Alan?” John asked.

The younger boy deflated. “Ancient Roman politics,” he moaned, once more dejected.

“Have you already done the Emperor Caligula?” John asked.

“The crazy guy who had sex with his sisters, and made his horse a senator? Yeah.”

“Do you remember what happened when he was deathly ill with ‘brain fever’?”

Alan frowned, trying to remember. “Yeah … he was popular then, a lot of people, trying to suck up to him in case he survived offered their lives to the gods in exchange for his … And when he got better …”

Virgil broke in, worried, “John, where are you going with this?”

John smiled innocently, “You know that saying that those who do not remember the past are condemned the repeat it?”

“Yeeesss?”

“Well, this just happened.” John activated the recording of Gordon and the hoverboat.

Virgil and Alan watched in silence. John flicked off the image when it stopped. “Well, what do you think?”

Alan grinned. “I think Gordon’s condemned to repeat history!”

 It had taken a lot of negotiation, but the care and housing of Buddy and Ellie the bearded dragons had finally been resolved.

A lot of negotiation, and not a little blackmail; “They’re a gift for their number one fan, in order to thank him for saving their lives. How upset do you think the Pendergasts would be if they found out you’d sold them?”

And so, as always in the face of a lack of brotherly sympathy, Gordon went to seek out the next best form of comfort: Celery Crunch Bars.

It was a little unusual that there none left in his stash in his rooms – Virgil had only just done the supply run not two weeks ago, but Grandma had been cooking a lot lately.

It was suspicious that there were none to be found in the gigantic industrial pantry – Gordon knew there had been an entire pallet there the other day.

And when his Celery Crunch Bars were not only missing from both Thunderbird Four and her spares warehouse, but replaced by the protein meal replacement bars that the other Thunderbirds stocked, it was a blatant act of sabotage against him. One worthy of the Hood.

So Gordon was distracted as he re-entered the comms-room, trying to figure out if it was feasible for the Hood to have regained access to Tracy Island, and not only sneak about Villa, but enter Thunderbird Four. Not that he was surprised that he would be most interested in the sub, after all, she was the most important vehicle of the International Rescue fleet, even if his brothers wouldn’t agree.

He was so distracted that he almost walked over Scott and Virgil. Not an unimpressive achievement, his oldest brother was ridiculously tall, and Virgil wasn’t exactly built for stealth, with all that muscle and steel-cap boots.

So Scott’s outraged, “Watch it, Gordon!” and hopping around clutching allegedly squashed toes, wasn’t met with the accustomed apologetic grovelling and ‘please-don’t-make-me-scrub-the-hangars-with-my-toothbrush’. Which naturally attracted the interest of the smother twins, along with demands for an explanation.

So Gordon explained, a lengthy and spirited explanation that attracted an ever growing audience. As Gordon started to elaborate his theories, the interruptions started.

“My uncle? Here? Absolutely not!” Kayo snapped.

“A-After the previous i-i-infiltrations, I upd-dated the security s-systems. T-There is n-no way the H-Hood got back on the I-Island,” Brains said with absolute finality.

“It’s not the Hood, Gordon,” Virgil said calmly.

And that derailed Gordon. Kayo and Brains denying his proofs, absolutely. They were both now so personally invested in the security of their home that they had initially not even listened to Scott and John’s increasingly less calm request/instructions to dial back the sensitivity of the sensors ringing their private waters, the two nets around the islands, and the Villa. It had taken Grandma in her full blaze of fury, something that none of them – not even their father – had ever defied, to get the sensitivity reset so that every ruffle of a leaf or wavelet braking on the shore didn’t set off an alarm.

But Virgil – Virgil who had spent a whole week scrubbing every inch of the Villa, and hangars, and had to be physically stopped from trying to sieve the sands to rid the island of the taint the Hood and his henchmen?

“How could you possibly know that, Virgil?” Gordon demanded, squaring up for argument.

Virgil rolled his eyes. It was a good effort, Gordon distractedly gave him a 7 out of 10; but Johnny was the master of eyerolls, closely followed by Scott. “John, Alan. This is on you. Explain, so we can all get back to our lives.”

In answer, a hologram popped up in the centre of the comms room. Gordon stood and watched himself desperately trying to start the recalcitrant hoverboat. Uncool, he looked so uncool – Wait! What?

“You’re kidding me!” he wailed. “You can’t expect me to go without Celery Crunch Bars for a whole year!”

Alan shrugged. “Think yourself lucky that’s all you offered to the Rescue Gods.”

Gordon stared. “The Rescue Gods?!”

John shrugged. “Why not? It’s something Dad used to say.”

Scott nodded, slowly, “Yeah, if we were planning an outing on the weekend, it would be in the hands of the weather gods; an unpowered landing was ultimately in the hands of the aviation gods …”

Virgil nodded. “And finding a good car park was ‘Thank you, parking gods!’”

Grandma smiled into the distance. “Wasn’t just your father, your Grandpa said it a lot, too. Probably where he got it from.” She quickly wiped at her eyes under her glasses.

Gordon frowned. “So what does this have to do with my Celery Crunch Bars?”

Alan raised his eyebrow at him – he had obviously been spending too much time around Virgil. “You made a promise, you would give up Celery Crunch Bars for a year if the hover boat started. And the hover boat started.”

“Therefore, the Rescue Gods heard you, deemed your sacrifice as worthy, and accepted it, causing the boat to start,” John chimed in. “It’s obvious, really.”

Kay and Brains drifted away, Max following, having lost interest once it was established that the Island was still secure.

Gordon’s eyes narrowed. “So what happened to all the Celery Crunch Bars?”

John shrugged. “As you are giving them up, and no one else here eats the disgusting things; they were donated to a charity dedicated to feeding homeless people.”

“Yeah,” Alan chimed in. “No point them going to waste.”

Gordon eyed Virgil, the traitor. “No points guessing how they got there, either.”

“I took them,” Scott said brightly. “Hardly counted as ‘heavy lifting’,” a smug sideways look at Virgil, “and I had a meeting nearby the location this morning, anyway.”

“Don’t even think of trying to order more, Gordon,” John warned. “Our suppliers, and the factory, have been instructed not to accept any orders for Celery Crunch Bars for the next 12 months.”

Gordon stared in horror; ‘pet’ lizards, and now no Celery Crunch bars? He would rather the Hood.

His family drifted off, back to their planned activities, interest lost now that Gordon had been stunned into silence.

A plaintive wail followed them. “What am I going to eat for a year?!”

“There’s always my fresh-baked cookies.” Grandma brandished a tray at him. “Go ahead, take two.”

[mandakatt]

FE3H/FFXV Crossover - Balthus x Gladio x Fem!Reader - More to love

A/N: Written for @thecoffeeaddictedshortcake​ during one of my writing streams. 

She’d asked for how Gladio and Bathus would act to a Plus Size Reader that got picked on for her weight during training, and honestly, this one hit home a lot. So... Here. Have two very handsome, very ‘in shape’ men, loving on one curvy/plus sized fem!reader

Characters: Balthus x Gladio x Plus Size Fem!Reader Warnings: Low Self-Esteem, Self-Confidence Issues, Bullying  Word Count: 1581 Summary: You've called yourself 'fluffy' for years. While others that don't know you and want to make you feel like shit call you fat.

Normally you can ignore it, and simply put your head down and train harder to prove them wrong. Today...it got under your skin cause someone happened to mention the two very handsome, very 'in shape' men you were dating.

...and those two handsome men want to remind you that you are worth it.

“Hey, Pal!”

Balthus called out to you when he walked into the apartment, catching you heading from the living room toward the bedroom. He smiled as you came to a stop but there was something off about you. Something about the way you were holding yourself didn't seem right and his brows dipped into a slight scowl. At first he thought you might have injured yourself so he quickly jogged up to your side, but when you didn't look at him, yeah. He knew something was up.

Leaning over, just enough to get into your line of sight he gave you a soft smile. “Hey you doin’ alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said softly as you took a deep breath to calm yourself down. And slowly you turned your head to look at him. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

Balthus studied your face for a moment, then frowned further. "Well the red rimmed eyes are a good place to start," he gently crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"No…"

"No?" Balthus' brows then dipped into a scowl. "Did someone make you cry? If someone made you cry then they're going to have a nice long talk with the King of Grap--”

“Balthus--” you huffed at him and frowned a little. "It's fine, I'm fine…"

“Love, if you’re going to lie to me…at least make it convincing will ya?”

You blinked up at him for a moment before sighing again and looking away. “It’s not anything I haven’t heard before…I just don’t know why it got to me so much this time..”

“This time?" Balthus frowned. "You uh, wanna elaborate on that?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“...because I’m stupid for letting them get to me about something like this.”

“Them?" Bathus' brows shot upwards as he growled softly. “So they’re ganging up on you now? Just tell me who’s brains I have to bash in--”

“Balthus, you don’t have to smash anyone’s brains in.”

“You sure about that?”

“I mean, it might make you and me feel momentarily better, but I don’t think it will solve the problem.”

“And what problem is that?” came Gladio’s voice from behind Balthus, his arms crossing over his chest as he came into view. He shot a bit of a teasing smirk at Balthus before looking back to you. “Did this big idiot upset you again?”

“What?” Balthus blinked once, huffed softly before giving him a smirk of his own. “Look who’s talking, muscle head!”

“Talking about yourself again, huh?” Gladio grinned at him as he made his way over to you, before placing his hand gently on your shoulder. “All kidding aside, Babe, what’s going on?”

With a deep sigh you gently shrugged Gladio’s hand off your shoulder, and you felt something in your chest tighten as he blinked at you in surprise.

“Nothing. I just have to train harder that’s all.”

“Train harder?” Gladio blinked at you again. “Babe, you have been putting in long days already. You’re up before me most of the time, which with you being a night owl is a feat in itself. Do you wanna tell me why you think you need to train harder?”

You mumbled something softly under your breath as you looked down to the floor.

Gladio and Balthus looked to each other, then back to you.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m fat, and apparently my size is what makes others think I can’t do what they do!” you snapped then sighed taking a deep breath. “Sorry...I didn’t mean to--Ugh, okay this is something I’ve heard from others, many times. I just...today it got to me, and I don’t know why.”

“Fat.” Gladio repeated softly. “They think you’re fat?”

“Gladio, you cannot tell me that someone my size isn’t--”

“You’re not.” Gladio snarled softly back at you and frowned further. “You are not fat, Babe.”

You blinked at him in surprise then snorted a little. “Yes I am.”

“If you’re fat, then I’m the future king of Fodlan.” Balthus huffed.

“I love you both, and I get what you’re trying to do, and what you're trying to convince me of, but it’s not me that needs convincing. There’s times sure, where I am not okay with how much I weigh because that’s just how my self-confidence works. But today, apparently, it bothers those that I train with because they believe because of my size that I can’t do what they do.”

“Do they even--? Wait…tell me something. Have they felt you hit them with a punch?” Balthus blinked at you before huffing out a soft laugh. “I mean it, you have knocked me on my ass a few times with just one swing.”

“I mean, I guess? But--”

“No,” Gladio cut you off gently. “There is no you guess. You have. I’ve seen you do it so many times. I’ve seen these people, that I know are saying this shit to you, not make it to the top of the rock wall in the training room where you can. I’ve also seen you run absolute laps around most of them.”

“Only because I have to. I have to prove that I can do better than they can...”

“Babe, no you don’t,” Gladio huffed again and moved to gently cup your face with both hands as he watched tears form in your eyes. “Listen to me. The only one you have things to prove to is yourself. Not me. Not this idiot next to me--” and he smirked when Balthus huffed out a loud ‘Hey!’ “--the only one that matters on what you want to accomplish or do, is you.”

Balthus moved up beside you and gently wrapped his arm gently around your waist, chuckling softly when you tensed. “I’ll admit, he makes a hell of a point and besides, I'm pretty damned sure you know who we wanna have sandwiched between us at night don'tcha? Sure as hell ain’t some shit head that treats their comrades like garbage just because of their body type."

"For once, I agree with you."

"'Bout time you did. Oh, and another thing, if you think that your curves affect how we feel about you, you'd be right." Bathus smirked at you. "Cause let me remind you of just how much Gladio and I like holding onto those curves of yours for certain...activities?”

Gladio chuckled as your face warmed under his hands then leaned forward to gently press a kiss to your forehead before moving back to look at you again.

“Babe, your size has nothing to do with who you are. I’m pretty sure I’m safe in saying that we love you for you. Simple as that.”

“The two of you are going to make me cry again you know, it’s not fair...”

“Sure it is.” Gladio said softly and pressed a kiss to your nose.

“Hey, quit hoggin’ her will ya?” Balthus huffed and moved close enough to kiss your face between Gladio’s fingers, causing both Gladio and you to laugh softly. “Listen, like I said, if you wanted me to, I’d gladly bash in a few skulls till they got the point.”

“While I appreciate that,” you finally said softly as you gently pulled away from Gladio’s hands, gently taking one into your own, as you grasped Balthus’ hand with the other. “I don’t think it’ll help. I just have to somehow prove it to myself that I’m...that I’m worthy of this.”

“Hey. You don’t mean us, do ya?”

“...yeah.”

“Babe,” Gladio sighed softly and gently squeezed your hand. “You do know that if I didn’t think you--”

“Don’t.” you gently cut him off, a soft smile on your features. “I know what you’re going to say, but right now, I wouldn't believe you, but I promise that I will figure out a way to prove it to myself that I do. In the meantime--” you took a deep breath, and your smile grew. “--is there any chance that we can do that thing where you guys like having me sandwiched in the middle of you two for a while?”

Gladio grinned down at you. “Definitely.”

Balthus then huffed and gently picked you up, slinging you over his shoulder like one would a sack of potatoes. “I got this!”

“HEY! Put me DOWN?!”

“Nope! Not till I get you to a bed anyway.” he started heading off in the direction of your bedroom, pausing once to look over his shoulder. “You coming?”

“Yeah, I’m right behind you,” Gladio said with a smirk as he yanked his tank top over his head.

���Oh ho! You’re getting started early!”

You shrieked softly as Balthus tossed you down on the bed, then laughed when he flopped into it next to you, followed by Gladio a moment later. The two of them wrapped you up in their wonderfully strong arms and snuggled themselves close to you.

“Hey, you do know that the two of us are going to be here to tell you pretty much every day that you're worth it, right? That we love you...yeah? I mean, if you can get the two of us to work together without killing each other that says something right there.” Balthus hummed as he gently nuzzled his nose against your cheek.

“Yep,” Gladio agreed as he pressed a kiss to your ear, then your jaw, then growled softly into your ear.

“And I promise you, we’ll be all too glad to remind you in more ways than one.”

[fandom-necromancer]

248. Come back home

The perfect @valyurse has decided it’s time for angst XD Really, had a blast writing this, I am just a bit stressed at the moment. Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warning: attempted double murder, being remote controlled, temporary heartbreak)

No one knew how Nines fit into Amanda's plan to stop deviancy. He was never officially activated and when Markus and Connor freed him from the Cyberlife tower there had been next to no resistance to deviancy. The RK900 had started working at the DPD, was well respected due to his politeness and intellect and even managed to fall for an overly sarcastic human with no self preservation. But that very human now realised none of that had been important. Because this before him wasn't Nines. This was a cold analytic machine without any sort of hesitance when it came to its mission.

The RK900 stood before Connor, arm outstretched and pistol ready to fire, held in a stalemate only by the respective guns of North and Hank pointed at his head and thirium pump. Gavin had been swiped to the side when Nines had changed and had not yet managed to get back to his feet. His whole body hurt - not from the impact on the floor but from what he saw before his eyes. What the hell happened? And when did it happen? Just now, or had that all just been an elaborate plan to fool them all?

'Put the gun down, Nines,' Hank ordered unusually calm for the fact that the machine was threatening his partner, son or whatever weird relationship these two had. 'Connor told me he had been in a similar position, too. You can break your code! You can resist it! Fight it!' ‘Oh, Hank, you always think you know everything, right?’ There was a humourless smile on the android’s face. ‘I am entirely different than your puppy over there.’ ‘Nines, there is no reason for you to kill me!’, Connor interrupted. ‘The revolution is over, we won. Don’t throw away everything you build up, everything you worked for.’ ‘Oh, Connor, aren’t you just adorable? An obsolete model trying to plead for its life, when there is no chance at surviving. Really, I pity you for sinking this deep. Now put your guns down so I can end his misery.’ ‘You shut your mouth, asshole’, North threatened. ‘Imagining we had a traitor among us all the time… God I want to throw up every drop of thirium I have in my system because I feel infected around you.’ Nines winked at her. ‘Felt the same living next to you all these years, waiting for the perfect moment to get rid of him. Besides, Connor, I didn’t build up anything. I simply waited in the backseat for the right moment. And it has arrived right now.’

‘You stupid phcking machine.’ Gavin had managed to stand up, but he still felt hollow and aching everywhere. ‘So this really was just a game for you? Why put up all the effort? Why fake loving me? Why pretending to like me, why making me trust you, why? You had your fun, yes? Let your stupid human toy fall from one moment to the next, because there is something better? Got bored killing someone slowly piece by piece so now you opt to putting a bullet through their brain? Tell me why!’ Gavin was too angry for tears, but he felt them coming up slowly. The android didn’t even look at him. ‘It was necessary to stay low. Surely someone who is in love with a human wouldn’t go on a killing spree right? No one expected it.’ ‘Why me?’ In the silence that spread after the broken words his phone chimed. He ignored the message. ‘You were the perfect tool. Hurt enough to accept anyone who was willing to put up with you. Secluded enough so I didn’t have to interact with others. Focussed on work enough to not even recognise when I took control and scouted the area. The perfect tool.’ There came the tears. He knew these thoughts. He remembered talking to Nines about them one night, being answered by this soft loving voice that he was wrong. That the android loved him with all his mechanical heart could give and that it made him sad Gavin thought about himself that way. The man had believed him. He had believed his lies, had embraced that fake warmth. Finally, something had gone right in his life. And now he had fallen from his high, old scars ripped open anew and bleeding out on the ground. He went numb. He didn’t care whether Connor died. He didn’t even care whether someone killed him. All his thoughts circled around their moments together. Should he have noticed? Could he have overseen something? His phone chimed again.

Hell. Why not. Couldn’t get any worse now.

16:34> G@/in -__ n33q hlp//.dll 16:39> n0\ tru´´. n0\ me

It chimed again.

16:40> plsee_-´’ hlp. N0\ me11 l0v% you

Gavin stared at the gibberish messages. Then suddenly it clicked and Gavin stared at the machine terrified.

16:41> buri3dt him. Th0ght d34d. pshd me__| Aw@-y. D0wn. 16:41>G@/in////help

‘No.’ It came out so silent when he wanted to scream from the top of his lungs. ‘You will not get him!’ ‘Did you say something, idiot?’ ‘What did you do to him?’ ‘To whom? You don’t understand. The Nines you knew isn’t anymore. It’s only me! And I will eradicate every last deviant, beginning with that idiot of a brother!’ ‘Nines, if you hear me, I got the message! Hang in there!’ ‘That is of no use, human! This isn’t a fucking movie.’

16:42>G@/in. I-I-IIIIIIII l0v yu. He$ del3tIng me 16:43>Ga/in. Love you. St0p h\m. Kill me!-_´´

‘No, Nines, hang in there!’ Hank looked at him as if he was going crazy, pistol still trained on the android’s thirium pump. ‘He won’t come back, human. He is weak. Just like the others. And I’ll prove it. Soon he can’t stop me anymore.’

16:45>Gv. Can/ keep frm shoot-__\ kill mm| D0n’t want this. K/ll me==- pls

Gavin looked at the finger at the trigger. It was shaking heavily. The android’s LED was a hot red. It was struggling. North and Hank could still shoot it. Safe Connor. But Nines was fighting in there. Wishing to die rather than kill his brother. Not this time. Gavin would be selfish this time.

He jumped the android from where he stood. While he wasn’t tall or had the weight, he had the strength and the surprise on his side. He brought the RK900 to fall. Gavin tried to subdue the machine, but the inhuman abilities of the thing were no match for him. Before he could think of it, he was pinned to the ground, a hand over his throat pressing down. He looked up into Nines’ face who had already lifted his arm again, keeping up the stalemate, now having two lives under his control.

Gavin struggled to breathe as the air was being cut off by the unrelenting metal hand. But he could see the struggle now: The whole arm was shaking, the grip around his throat was tightening and loosening constantly. Nines was fighting back. He was still in there and hadn’t given up yet. ‘Nines. You are doing great. Keep it up. Come back here. Fight him. Come back home to me. I believe in you.’ The hand clenched stronger around his neck, the pain becoming to much until he wasn’t able to speak anymore. He saw black circles dancing across his vision. That was when he realised, he could die today. He would die by the hands of the one he loved. No. This wasn’t his Nines. This was Cyberlife’s Nines. This was what they designed him to be. He lifted a weak, trembling hand and brushed over the other’s cheek. His Nines was still in there. And he would win. There was no one stronger than him, he would win this fight. And he would come back to him. He would come save him and they would go home. Watch a movie. Cuddle. Never again get out into a world that wanted something like this to happen.

There was the clutter of a gun hitting concrete. Suddenly there was air. Suddenly, there was someone pushing him into a position better suited for coughing his lungs out. Suddenly, there were warm, careful hands and strong arms wrapping around him and blue stained tears soaking his clothes.

Suddenly, there was his Nines again.

[dailyfeartwdgifs]

Fear The Walking Dead Season 5, Episode 2 Review: 'The Hurt That Will Happen' 

Fear The Walking Dead has gone all Chernobyl in its fifth season, introducing us to a new region impacted by a nuclear plant meltdown. Radioactive zombies roam the land and various mysterious clues point toward a new, highly organized group that's almost certainly related to the people who took Rick Grimes away in Season 9 of The Walking Dead. 

I was not a big fan of Fear The Walking Dead's Season 5 premiere, breaking with my fellow critics, all of whom apparently really liked the episode. (It had a 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes until they added my review into the mix, dropping it down to a 93%). 

I hate to rain on anyone's parade (well, that's not strictly true) but I can't help speaking my mind. I'm a critic, not a sycophant. The Season 5 premiere wasn't the worst episode this show has ever produced, but the characters are just so ridiculous at this point, and the entire premise ("We're here to help!") is astonishingly lame and contrived. It becomes hard to watch without a great deal of eye-rolling. 

This Sunday's episode, the awkwardly titled "The Hurt That Will Happen", isn't much better. There are still too many instances of characters behaving like idiots and the whole thing remains brutally boring—and honestly, a show with radioactive zombies shouldn't be boring! I don't think people were quite as stupid this week as last—nobody flew a plane they had no idea how to pilot, crash-landing in a completely unknown region in order to "help" some guy they "met" on the radio. That's so egregiously moronic that it pretty much ruined last week's episode right out of the gates. I don't think people were quite as stupid this week as last—nobody flew a plane they had no idea how to pilot, crash-landing in a completely unknown region in order to "help" some guy they "met" on the radio. That's so egregiously moronic that it pretty much ruined last week's episode right out of the gates.

But we still have plenty of stupid in Episode 2. Luciana, for instance, decides to go outside by herself to see what a large crashing noise was. I can understand taking a quick peak—it was the radio tower, blown over by non-existent wind or maybe wind that only blows over large objects, skipping over more mundane things like human hair—but then she just stays outside. In the dark. By herself, injured and alone. 

When zombies approach, she doesn't hurry back inside to safety, the clear and obvious thing to do when you're injured and on meds that impact your cognitive functions. Instead she pulls out her gun and tries to shoot the walkers. I get that she was doped up and not thinking clearly, but even in a doped up state your first instinct is going to be running away because people on painkillers usually do understand that they're not at their best. Luciana knew perfectly well that she wasn't going to be a great fighter in her current state. The only conceivable reason why she'd stay outside to fight walkers is because the show is actively trying to make her (and every other character) look stupid. She makes it back, but only just barely. The pursuing walkers are later decapitated by someone—it's a mystery—their heads hung up as some kind of warning to the survivors (helpers?). 

While all this is going on, Morgan and Alicia are out trying to find Al who went missing last week when she stupidly went out at night in the rain all alone to investigate the weird armored zombie and got knocked out by someone. Maybe the same someone who cut off those heads, maybe someone else. Either way, not Al's shining moment. (Later, Daniel says that Al can take care of herself, but I'm not so sure). 

In any case, Morgan gets into a scuffle with a zombie and is suddenly tripped up by a set of bolas that someone threw at him. I had to watch it twice to fully tell what just happened. It's a pretty weird weapon to have especially for this new character. The zombie is making things tough on Morgan but then a gun goes off and a stranger dressed in a gas mask and protective science-uniform-outfit shows up and tells him to take his clothes off and stop talking. She doesn't have time to explain, but basically the zombies are radioactive and he needs to get cleaned up right away or he could get radiation poisoning just from making physical contact with them. 

She tells him to be quiet because apparently talking can make it worse, and when he keeps asking questions she raises her gun and says something about not wanting to do it this way—so I guess she was going to shoot him for talking? In order to help him? I'm confused. I guess it doesn't matter what she was about to do because Alicia comes in like a bat out of hell and knocks her to the ground, demanding where she took Al. She tells them about the nuclear plant meltdown and the radiation zombies that she's hunting down. Morgan gets cleaned up and spends the rest of the episode in a "Don't Mess With Texas" shirt which is pretty funny. 

Alicia gets in a fight with some zombies, some of which are radioactive and some who aren't—"I can't tell which is which!" she cries out at one point after the zombies get all muddy. She has a gun because she took it from the nuclear plant lady, but for some strange reason she doesn't use it. She ends up tossing it back to the lady because I guess you're not allowed to fire someone else's gun in the zombie apocalypse. I just don't know anymore. It's a close call for Alicia who, well, handled the whole thing pretty poorly for no reason whatsoever. 

Not long after, John Dorie and June radio them (what would they do in this show without all these radios?) and tell them they've found more of the radioactive zombies, all burned in a pile. So they head over there to deal with it and June finds a car that starts up just fine and has three-quarters of a tank of gas. How convenient for them! 

Still, they're all waiting on Strand to find a second plane to come save them with because I guess driving is just not an option for some reason. Seriously, can someone please let me know why driving to get them isn't on the table? Strand and his trucker pals have a truck and an endless supply of gas. Just go drive to wherever they are and pick them up. Yes, it will take longer to drive. The silver lining, however, is that driving won't result in yet another plane crash. Nobody can fly a plane! 

Hasn't anyone pointed this out yet? Haven't they all learned that flying a plane when you don't know how is a bad idea? Do they ever sit around and talk about actually important stuff or is all dialogue reserved for Morgan's preachy mumbo jumbo about being "stuck" and not having to be, and opening doors and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz . . . 

Fortunately, when Strand goes to visit Daniel, the grouchy realist doesn't lend him his plane. "Whenever you try to help people, you make things worse," he tells Strand, and he's not wrong. Certainly taking the plane and trying to fly it would end badly. Daniel tells Strand that if he sees him again he'll shoot him in the face. I really do love Daniel, but I'm not sure how he'll figure in to the rest of the season, unless Strand plans some kind of elaborate caper to steal the plane and Daniel is dragged back into all this nonsense against his will. 

Of course, by the time all that goes down they definitely could have driven to wherever Alicia and the rest of the team are, presumably still in Texas given Morgan's replacement shirt. They were going to drive all the way to Alexandria, they can drive to this place instead. Or they could all hop in June's car and drive themselves back home. This is what I mean when I say I just can't get behind this season's premise or overarching narrative. It's stupid to fly a plane when you don't know how, especially if you're doing it to go "rescue" complete strangers. It's far too risky for any sane person, and it's far too stupid for any thinking person with half a brain. The show's producers and writers ignore all that for the spectacle and for the fake conflict it creates. 

What fake conflict? Well, the notion that Alicia and her crew are stuck, first of all. They can find cars with gas easily enough and drive themselves home. Second, the notion that Strand needs to find a second plane—which just so happens to be with Daniel, the guy that hates Strand more than anyone—is a fake conflict. Strand could also simply drive to his friends using his trucker buddies. The whole Strand meeting up with Daniel thing is also ridiculously contrived. Al has apparently met every single possible survivor of the apocalypse. Better still, every survivor from the dam just happened to end up hundreds of miles away in Texas. What luck! 

The final fake conflict is only fake because of all the contrivances and nonsense used to get us to this point. I'm speaking of Logan (Matt Frewer) and his little prank. He tricked Alicia and Morgan into leaving the mill unguarded and then swooped in when they left. It's a clever idea and I'd have no problem with it if it didn't require all the protagonists to be such monumentally foolish people. Sometimes being foolish or making a poor choice creates a real conflict, because sometimes smart people do stupid things. Think Robb Stark and his poor choices with the Freys in Game of Thrones. That had consequences. But if Game of Thrones built all its conflicts around characters acting uncharacteristically stupid, it would get old very quickly. Robb's mistake was falling in love and that's pretty relatable. Our heroes in Fear made a much less relatable mistake with the plane (etc). 

Creating contrived conflicts based on characters acting like idiots seems to be the narrative strategy in Fear The Walking Dead in virtually all of its seasons except Season 3. Because let's be honest: Fear The Walking Dead did not have a great first or second season. Madison caused far too much trouble everywhere she went to be considered a good leader. I always think back to the episode when they showed up at that island and Madison was convinced that the best idea would be for her to take the family's kids away from them and then pretty much everyone died in a totally unnecessary disaster. By the end of Season 2 I thought they should just cancel it and start over, and then I ate my words when Season 3 was so good. 

Season 3 crafted a much more interesting conflict between the Native Americans and the survivalists. It was over water and land and nobody was clearly good or clearly evil. I loved how much the show improved in Season 3 and I'm just so bummed out that it's gone so far (back) downhill first in Season 4 and now Season 5. Season 4 had such a promising first few episodes, too, but quickly lost its way. Now we're two episodes deep into Season 5 and it's just . . . not very good. It's not as bad as it was during the Martha episodes, but it really should be so much better. AMC really needs to hire more talented writers and producers for this show. The acting is largely fine, the special effects are good, the cinematography and directing are typically fine. It's the scripts, the story, the constant stupidity and inconsistencies, that drag into down into the zombie muck. Mostly it's just dull and frustrating to watch. Hopefully things pick up next week.

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia, Chapter 14

Continuing my string of new viewpoint characters, we have Sora Iida!  This is the raw, unedited version, and will eventually be cleaned up a bit when it goes up on FF.net and Ao3. Chapters 0-12 can be found here

The unedited chapter 13 can be found here

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 14: Sora Iida Takes Off

“For the record,” Sora shouted after Kenta Sato and Kimiko Ojiro, “being unable to access the Wi-Fi does not constitute a “science emergency!”  I am not your tech support!”

Honestly!  All Ojiro had done was turn the Wi-Fi functionality off on her phone.  Hardly a science emergency and definitely not worth the urgency with which she and Sato had demanded that she come with them.  In fact, there was no reason why she should have had to leave the room in the first place.

Clearly, something was going on.  Shenanigans were afoot! But what?  With all respect to the two of them as her friends and future Heroes, neither Sato nor Ojiro were clever enough to be the primary suspect in anything.  But they were usually to be found in the company of Takuma Sero, who possessed the rather unique ability to be rather clever and rather stupid at the same time when it came to getting into trouble.   Perhaps he had spearheaded something while the other two distracted her?  But what? And why would they not distract her younger brother as well?

These were questions that she clearly was going to get no answer to until she had additional data. On the other hand, she had multiple projects of her own to work on and there had been no sign of any damage to anything.  Perhaps she was better off ignoring it, so long as they did not cause any apparent disruptions?  It would mean a return to the designs she and Tensei were working on.

Yes, perhaps that was best.

Sora returned to the Common Room to find Tensei sitting at the table she had left him, looking up with the kind of grin that was usually reserved for a very serious breakthrough in design, one with only a very small number of explosions and minimal property damage.

“Brother?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.  “Did something happen while I was gone?  Did you figure out how to reduce the thrust multiplier to a manageable size?”

He continued staring ahead for a moment, though from the look in his eyes, she could tell his thoughts were moving quite rapidly.  Their mother got the same look fairly often and from what their father had said, so did she.  According to Father, the only trick to bringing one of them out of it was a sudden shock.

“Oh, younger brother,” she trilled.

That brought Tensei to attention, his eyes focusing on her.  “While that is factually correct, it is only a matter of minutes!  The data is statistically irrelevant under most circumstance!”

She offered him a somewhat apologetic nod.   He was easy to get riled up.  Not quite as easy as Father, but few people were.   Their mother could do it with just a slight change of expression.   “It was necessary.  You were quite clearly lost in thought and I did not wish to wait for you to come out of it on your own.”

“I was not…” Tensei trailed off, starting to stand.  Halfway though, he sat back down.  “Forgive me, Sister,” he said.  “I was indeed lost in thought.  Much has occurred since you left the room and I am still uncertain of how to process it all.”

“Elaborate,” she said. “Did Sero do something?  He was not with his usual collaborators.”

“It was Sero,” Tensei told her.  “He wished to thank me for saving his life earlier.”

That was perfectly logical, but it did not make sense with the deception.  “Commendable,” she said.  “But that does not explain why Ojiro and Sato felt the need to remove me from the room before he did.”

Tensei smiled again. “There was more.  He asked if I wished to engage in a one-on-one activity with him this weekend.  I accepted.”

“Oh, well then, that is…”

Wait.

She stopped and replayed the words he had just said in her mind. “Are you telling me, you have a date?”

More information assembled itself in her brain.  “With Sero?”

Tensei nodded.  “I do.”

“I am very happy for you, Brother,” Sora said.

She realized it was the first lie she had ever told him.

***

“Kirishima-Bakugo!” Sora shouted, arms flailing through the air as she entered Kirishima-Bakugo’s room. “I require advice!”

Kirishima-Bakugo looked up from her chair, where she was lifting small weights.  She gave Sora a long, penetrating stare.  Perhaps it was meant to be some form of communication?  Was it code?  She could crack that if she applied enough thought.

Somehow dissatisfied with Sora’s response, Kirishima-Bakugo finally spoke.  “…And you’re coming to me, why, exactly?  Isn’t this more Tokoyami’s bag?  Or Toshi?  Or Izzy? Besides, I thought you usually talked things through that brother of yours.”

Sora frowned. “Unfortunately, this concerns my brother, so I am unable to request his advice on the matter.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you came to me.  We ain’t exactly best friends or anything.  …And it’s not like I’m exactly known for making the best decisions.”

“Those are true statements,” Sora admitted.  “But Tokoyami, Todoroki, and Toshi are occupied with their study group with Shinso and Haimawari.  I did not wish to interrupt.  I know we are not close, but I would appreciate council all the same.”

Kirishima-Bakugo finally set down her weight.  “This have anything to do with your brother getting a date with Sero?”

Sora felt her eyes go wide. “How do you know that?  I only just learned moments ago!”

The blonde, muscular girl laughed at that.  “You do remember Ojiro was involved, right?  Once she knew it, assume everyone who exists, did exist, and will exist knows.”

She picked up her phone and called up a post from a social media site.  It showed a picture of a happy if somewhat shell-shocked Sero with the caption “My BFF (@Takuma_Sero) just scored himself a date with Tensei Iida! I’m so proud of him!  And Iida is such a hottie!  So jealous!”

Sora stared at it for a moment.  “That was fast.”

“So what’s up?” Kirishima-Bakugo asked.  “Just don’t tell me you were crushing on Sero.  Because that would have really been barking up the wrong tree.”

She shook her head. They had all known Sero was gay for some time; he made no secret of it.  She had known Tensei was as well, of course, though she was uncertain how many of the others did.  He did not really speak of romantic or lustful inclinations one way or the other. Like her, machines and intellectual challenges were typically his first priority.

“No, nothing like that. It is just…”  Sora trailed off, waving her hands in the air in awkward gestures.

“I’m gonna need words, Jetset.  My Quirk ain’t mind reading.”

Strange.  She could usually articulate her ideas quite clearly. Or at least, clearly enough that her brother and mother could understand.  Other people sometimes did have a hard time following her.  But words were not usually a problem.

She tried again.  “Tensei and I are twins.”

Kirishima-Bakugo raised an eyebrow.  “And water is wet.”

“It is just… I should be happy for him.  It is good that he has found someone to spend time with, someone he might like.  But for some reason, I am not.”

For a long moment, Kirishima-Bakugo stared at her again.  Then, a strange, amused grin finally crossed her face.  “I always wondered what would happen when one of you left the nest.”

She stood and rubbed Sora’s hair vigorously.  “You’re jealous, Jetset.”

Sora pulled back, running a hand over her blue-black hair to smooth it back down.  “I am sorry, but… what?”

Kirishima-Bakugo flopped back in her chair, still grinning.  “You,” she said, “are jealous. That someone who’s not you is getting to spend time with your brother.”

“No, that cannot be it,” Sora said, looking down.  And yet… The data point introduced by Kirishima-Bakugo completely recontextualized the data points she had already gathered about the situation.  Her reluctance to be happy about the situation, a nagging concern in the back of her mind that she could not name…

“We have always done everything together,” she went on.  “We have the same Quirk, we have the same interests, we understand each other well enough that we can practically read the other’s thoughts.  I cannot remember a time we have every spent more than a few hours apart.”

“You do know they’re not getting married or nothing, right?  This might not even work out.”

She was aware of that, wasn’t she?  And it was not realistic to expect that her brother spend his every second with her. He already did not do that; they had to sleep sometimes, after all.  Not at much as most people would probably prefer they do, but that was an argument for another time.  But they typically did spend the majority of their waking hours together.  Two minds and four hands made for lighter, smarter work, after all.

Sora was a woman of science. She had been taught from a young age to hypothesize, experiment, analyze the data, and come to a conclusion, even if the results were not the ones you wanted.  The walls of their home had several scorch marks that attested to that.

She became aware of Kirishima-Bakugo snapping her fingers in her face.  “You went away there for a little while, Jetset.”

“I am sorry,” Sora said. “But I think, Kirishima-Bakugo, you are right.”

“Say that again.”

“’You are right’?”

She grinned.  “I just wanted one of you eggheads to admit that for once.”

Kirishima-Bakugo went on, “Look.  My own personal life’s kind of a mess right now.  And I really ain’t the person with answers.  But the way I see it, being a little jealous ain’t terrible.  Letting it take over, letting it get in the way of you and your brother, that’d be terrible.  I know I’d hate it if I let something come between Tai and me.”

Sora nodded.  Her jealousy was an understandable factor. But one she could control.  There was no reason to deny her brother a chance at some happiness.  She would hope he would do the same for her.

“I…   Thank you,” she said.  “You have given me a lot to think about.”

Kirishima-Bakugo nodded. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who can use their head.  ‘sides... Just think of how he might feel when you find some guy to ask out.  Or girl.  Or whoever.  If that’s your thing.”

“Oh,” she said, “I suppose that would be rather hypocritical of me.  Especially as I like…”

Kirishima-Bakugo held up both hands.  “Nope, don’t wanna know.  I got enough going on without getting you even more sorted out.  I already know more about you than I needed to.”

“Still,” Sora said, “I must thank you.  This was a very clarifying discussion.”   She held up her arms, awkwardly.  “Social convention tells me I should hug you now.”

“…Let’s skip that, okay?”

***

When Sora went to find her brother, he was not in his room.  Thankfully, Shinso knew where he was and told her that he was on the roof.   She first went down to the Common Room to grab bottles of grape and apple juice from the fridge, then went up to join him.

Tensei was standing near the edge of the roof, looking up at the stars.    “Brother?” she asked.  “Are you nervous about your date? It is soon?  Where are you going?   I demand additional information!”

He turned and smiled, accepting the bottle of apple juice that she offered him, taking a long swig before he answered.  “I am filled with uncertainty. This is my first date ever and I feel incredibly unprepared.  But Sero has suggested this Saturday and going for a quick dinner and to the arcade downtown.  He seems experienced enough in these matters, so I agreed with his plans.”

She took a drink of her own apple juice.  “If I could offer you advice, I would,” she said, “but my dating experiences are no different than your own.”

“Do you suppose I should ask Father for advice?”

Sora shook her head. “I think we both know that would useless.  Mother always says that she had to get Aunt Mina and Aunt Toru to explain her interest in him to him before he understood.  Though he claims they were overly direct about it.”

This got a laugh out of him. “This is true.  Though I am uncertain as to what they could have said to fluster him so.”

Sora shrugged.  “I am afraid I have no idea.”

She frowned.  The two of them had always been open and honest with each other.  Now was not time to change that.  Even if her opinion on the situation had changed, he deserved to know her full thoughts on the matter.

Tensei noticed.  “You seem preoccupied, Sister.”

She finished her juice before she spoke, feeling it fueling her body and her Quirk.   It was a warmth, spreading through the rest of her, concentrating itself in the jet engines on her back.  “I told you I was happy for you when you told me you had a date. And I am, now.  But when I told you that, I was lying.”

His eyes widened. “You were?  But why?”

“I was jealous,” she said. “I was afraid if you were spending time with Sero, we would have less time together.  And I realize that this is still true.  But that does not make it wrong.  We are twins and always will be.  But that does not mean we cannot have our own lives as well.”

“As if I could ever forget about you,” Tensei said.  “You are my sister.  I will always try to make time for you.  But I am also inexperienced in the requirements of other relationships.  So if I fail to achieve balance, I will be relying upon you to set things right.”

She nodded.  “Of course I will. Can you forgive me my jealousy?”

“Of course!”

“And,” Sora said, “you will do the same for me, should I ever pursue a romantic relationship?”

“Certainly,” he said. “Though as your brother, I am obliged to threaten any boy you might be interested in with bodily harm, should he be anything less than a gentleman to you.”

“And as your older sibling, I should remind you that the responsibilities of protecting the younger sibling from their romantic partner falls to me.  Perhaps I should be pre-emptively defending your honor with Sero with threats of violence!”

“You are older by only three minutes!  That is a statistical rounding error!”

“Nevertheless, it is still factual and precise!”

“I am not having this argument again!”

“Because you are losing!”

“I do not concede that!”

“The facts do not care about whether or not you accept them, they simply are!”

Tensei gave her a curious look, as he put data points together.  “For the sake of being prepared to defend your honor, is there anyone you have romantic interest in?”

He always shifted topics when he knew her logic had defeated him.  Well, she had already nearly told one person tonight, perhaps she ought to tell someone for real…

“Both of you go inside! It’s after curfew!”

Sora peered over the edge of the roof, spotting Aizawa down on the ground, patrolling the school grounds.

“How does he do that?” Tensei asked.  “His vision should not be that good.”

Sora shook her head.  “If I have learned anything so far this week, it is that Mister Aizawa is a statistically anomaly all his own.”

***

Sora returned Tensei to his room and was on her way back to hers when she saw Toshi coming from the stairwell.  Mostly likely, he had finished his study session with Tokoyami, Todoroki, and the rest. Even in his casual wear, his muscles were readily apparent.

“Oh, hey, Sora,” he said.  “How’re you taking being lab-banned?”

She frowned.  “It is going,” she said.  “A week is a long time to be away from the Support Workshop.”

“Well, you did kind of blow it up…”

“Only a little!  We put the fires out very quickly!”

Toshi put up his hands in an apologetic gesture.  “Okay, okay, just a little exploding.  I’m sure it was fine.”  

“It was,” Sora insisted.  “But Power Loader did not see it that way.  After he was done banning us, I saw him break into the bottle he keeps in his desk for “emergencies.”  Whatever that might be.”

Toshi blinked slowly for a moment, looking at though he might say something about that, then shrugged.  “Well, I’m sure it will pass pretty quick.  We’ve got plenty of Hero stuff to keep us busy.   We’re going out to the USJ next week, after all..  Uncle Kota says he’s got some really special stuff planned!”

“That is good,” she replied.  Though she was not completely without worry about it.  They all knew what had happened during their parents’ first visit to the USJ.  While they all knew the likelihood of anything like that happening to them was amazingly slim.  The various members of the League of Villains were either dead or in prison. Nevertheless between who they were and what else was going on in the world, the school was taking a great number of precautious.

He nodded.  “Yeah, I’m really excited for it.”

Indeed, she could see the excitement already in his green eyes.  It was an aesthetically pleasing look on him, especially when he smiled.  

“It promises to be an interesting experience,” she agreed.  “Though I am not as certain as to how well I will perform at rescue work.  I can certainly catch falling people, as my brother did for Sero earlier today, but much of it requires more delicate work than my Quirk allows.”

“That was a good catch,” Toshi agreed.  “But don’t sell yourself short either.  The right Quirk in the right place at the right time can make a big difference, sure.  But you and your brother are way more than just flying around.   You’re both crazy smart.  That’s important too.”

Sora felt her cheeks redden slightly.  “You are too kind, Toshi,” she said.

“Yeah, well,” he said, rubbing the back of his hair, messing up his green hair. “It’s true.”

“Thank you,” she said again.  Perhaps there were better words here.  But she still felt as though the time was not quite right.   Not when she was still battling down the last vestiges of jealousy. “I will keep that in mind.”

He smiled again.  “Good,” he said.  “See you in the morning then?”

She nodded.  “In the morning.  Good night, Toshi.”

“Good night, Sora.”

She headed back to the stairwell to head back to her own room.  She definitely required further data points before proceeding.   Perhaps she could interrogate Tokoyami or Todoroki for more information before she put a plan of action into effect…

[randomly-random-jen]

Uncalled For Actions (13/?)

A Girl Genius fanfic

When Gilgamesh Holzfäller is fourteen, he’s taken on as an apprentice to Baron Wulfenbach as part of a program to produce the next generation of leaders in the Empire–a group that will hopefully get along (although most see this as wishful thinking on the Baron’s part). He’s learned a lot over the months of shadowing the Baron, but nothing has prepared him for his most challenging assignment: confronting the skeletons in his closet.  

[Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | Part 14 ]

Part 13

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Tarvek said without looking up from the paper.

"You know exactly what I mean--you're done with your work."

"You're not."

Gil wanted to throttle him. "I didn't ask for your help."

"Duly noted."

Tarvek took another paper that Gil snatched away from him, tearing it nearly in half. "Let me rephrase that in a way your small brain will understand--I don't want your help.

Taking another sheet, Tarvek snorted. "You don't want it, but you definitely need it if you plan to eat any time today."

Gil growled--hating Tarvek even more for being right. "Now all of a sudden you care about my well-being," he said as he quickly translated--ironically--a page of lunch menus.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means," Gil spat, slamming the finished page onto his pile.

"I really don't."

Across the table, the twins had paused to watch the exchanged then pressed their heads together to whisper in what sort of sounded like Gerrman but not quite, reminding Gil of a paper he read about secret twin languages used to send coded messages during wars. Whey they noticed Gil glaring they suddenly gathered their piles and relocated to a now empty table across the room.

"You're really good at that," the girl next to him said.

"What?" Gil asked, face scrunched in confusion.

Tarvek leaned past him to see the girl, a little smirk on his face. "I think she means being a loser."

Gil turned his glare back at Tarvek. "Nobody was talking to you."

Tarvek laughed as he pulled another sheet to translate towards him. "That's okay: I'm too busy doing your job for you anyway."

Gil really wanted to know what the girl had meant, but he wanted, even more, to put Tarvek in his place so he grabbed the paper, leaving a streak of ink across it from where Tarvek had been writing."

"I told you I don't need any help--go be a royal pain somewhere else."

The girl giggled, getting their attention again. "Maybe he wants to show off, too, huh?"

Gil sighed. "He does like to do that so it wouldn't surprise me."

"Oh shut up, Holzfäller and let me help you."

Gil opened his mouth, but his stomach grumbled loudly in answer first getting a snort from Tarvek.

"See, your gut agrees with me. The quicker we finish, the quicker we can both go to lunch."

"Like any of this means anything to you," Gil told him, sliding a paper over. "They're not going to keep you from eating if you want to."

Tarvek huffed. "You don't know my father--he delights in using me as an example for, well, everything."

"That's true," said the girl as she gathered her pen and files, leaving without elaborating.

Gil shook his head, sending the ache ricocheting around his brain and down his neck. "Whatever--I'm too tired to argue since I was up all night fighting off those drugs."

"Again with the drugs," Tarvek said through gritted teeth. "I hate to break it to you, Holzfäller, but you're not important enough for anyone to drug."

Ha! Gil thought.

"It was probably something you ate like Anevka said."

"Ah, but you already said I didn't eat anything."

"Then we're back to you being a lousy drunk."

Gil growled under his breath--he couldn't be this dense for real, could he? "I wasn't drunk."

Tarvek huffed. "How could you tell?"

Gil slammed his hand down, rattling the ink wells and fluttering several papers from the top of the pile to the floor. "Because I wasn't stumbling around the castle attacking random, innocent people."

Once again, everyone was staring at Gil--everyone except Tarvek who sat very still until a drop of ink from his poised pen splattered his otherwise immaculate sheet of paper.

Gil could feel the other translators, including the twins, waiting for one of them to explode. They'd probably heard the rumors and knew exactly what Gil was talking about and wanted to see a repeat with their own eyes. It wasn't until they got bored and went back to work that Tarvek finally moved, uselessly blotting the now-dry ink spot then continuing his translation.

When he didn't say anything, Gil sighed, picked up the fallen sheets and set back to work.

Several minutes passed before Tarvek finally spoke, voice low and even. "I wasn't stumbling, it wasn't random, and we both know you're not innocent."

Gil rolled his eyes nearly out of his head. "Seriously? Five years and you're still on about that? The Baron did say no one can hold a grudge like royalty." 

* * *

Gil paused in his writing. ”Of course, he was mostly talking about princesses, but the thought still applies."

And then he turned that stupid, vibrant smile at Tarvek making his skin crawl--or maybe that was a tingle. Either way, Tarvek hated it and that smile. Should have knocked a couple of his teeth out; that would have fixed the problem. Tarvek directed his anger at his paper, tearing several small holes with his pen tip before he calmed himself with breathing exercises.

Letting Holzfäller have this kind of effect on him only made things, worse and the fact that Gil was right about him acting like a spoiled brat only added to his foul mood. He needed to get back the upper hand in this conversation.

"You sound just like him, you know--the Baron? He must be so proud--his little despot-in-training."

Gil slapped his finished paper onto the stack with enough force to tip it, compelling Tarvek to catch them before the papers went everywhere.

"The Baron brought peace to Europa," Gil said under his breath, "just like everyone wanted."

"At the cost of our freedom," Tarvek countered.

"Oh, please. Freedom to overtax your kingdoms and start pointless wars over petty issues like... who gets to claim purple as their official state color? You lost so much," Gil said, rolling his eyes. "The Baron charges a very reasonable tax, and in return, maintains the roads, keeps the air safe from pirates, and settles your ridiculous disputes fairly, and you get to maintain rule over your own territories. What more do you want?"

Tarvek blinked at him in surprise and a touch of admiration at his poise and dedication then pulled himself together with a shake of his head. "You know, I was joking about you sounding like the Baron," he said, "but you really do sound like him. You swallowed the Empire line hook, line and sinker, huh?"

Gil smiled. "You're just mad I'm right. You know this summit and all of the meetings are pointless because the Baron saved your asses and keeps them safe--fairly.”

Tarvek tossed his pen to the side before he snapped it in half in frustration. "What do you know about it? You don't have family or lands-"

"Wow," Gil interrupted, "I don't remember you being this stuck up, but you do love to remind me of my place in society don't you?"

Tarvek frowned and ducked his head. For once, he hadn't meant it as a jab at Gil's status, he'd just been trying to make a point that Gil wouldn't understand because he lives on the Baron's flying city.

Across the table, someone cleared their throat. "Begging your pardon, Master Tarvek, but the afternoon meeting will begin shortly." The young man in a Sturmhalten clerk's uniform wrung his hands as he glanced everywhere but at the boys.

"We're not done," Gil said lamely as his stomach gurgled in protest loud enough for everyone to hear.

Tarvek sighed and stood. "I'm sure it will still be here tonight to finish."

Gil looked up, eyes wide and tired. "You think they'll make us do this again?"

Tarvek cocked his head. "Did you miss the part where I said my father loves to make an example of me?" He glanced around the room as the other translators hurried to finish or cleaned up then back to the clerk. "Everyone else is returning later, yes?"

The man nodded grimly like he hated confirming this information.

"Then my father will make me come back too and I'm sure the Baron-"

"Won't want to look soft and let me off the hood," Gil finished, leaning back with a groan.

Just then a horn sounded, signaling the beginning of the afternoon meetings, throwing the room into a flurry of activity as people gathered their notes and darted about.

Gil slowly stacked his pile, righting the edges repeatedly for no reason except to stall. Well, Tarvek wasn't wasting any more time or getting into any more trouble over Gilgamesh Holzfäller; it was his own fault for trying to show off. Leaving Gil to pout or whatever it was he was doing, Tarvek joined the exodus into the hall and tried to ignore his own growling stomach which had thankfully remained quiet in the library.

He passed a group of maids who immediately averted their gaze even as they mumbled a proper if hollow greeting, but then they started giggling as he passed. Tarvek tried to ignore them and everyone else that kept staring just like he ignored his stomach, but he couldn't help but notice the inordinate amount of staring.

Maybe he'd become jaded over his life, but he swore they were all pointing and laughing more than usual. He nodded at several of the other apprentices standing at the entrance of the summit room.

They returned polite nods, but as soon as he passed they burst into laughter fueling his growing paranoia. Whatever--let them laugh, he told himself like he always did when things got to him. They're just jealous. Not that he really believed that because there really wasn't anything to be jealous of.

He held his head high as he crossed the room, leaving a wake of whispers behind that he tried to convince himself he was imagining. The head table was empty, but he took his seat anyway, straightening his supplies and going over his notes from earlier.

He ran his fingers over a post of splattered ink with a frown. It was only the second day of the summit and his first day working with Holzfäller and already things were a mess--figuratively and literally. They would only get worse unless Tarvek figured out a way to deal with the situation.

He figured he had one of two options--suck it up and get along with Gil for the rest of the week or expose him for the fraud he was and get him fired and out of Tarvek's house. "A" was shaping up to be the easier plan considering Gil didn't seem to be in any trouble despite the fight and his abhorrent, drunken behavior last night.

There had to be some logical reason the Baron would choose a nobody like Holzfäller as his apprentice--Tarvek just couldn't see it. Gil had to have gotten into a lot of trouble after the vault break-in. Tarvek assumed the only reason Gil wasn't kicked out, too, was he had nowhere else to go although it was still odd that the Baron kept him around at all when he usually sent orphans to live with loyalists he trusted.

Why was Holzfäller different? The eternal question that had haunted him since that night.

He supposed he could solve the mystery right now by just asking, but he doubted he'd get a straight answer from anyone--the Baron's people were far too secretive and afraid of him to reveal any useful information. So he couldn't ask outright, but he could do a little snooping of his own into the matter, and he had just the person to help.

* * *

"Again," commanded the trainer as he wandered among the lines of Smoke Knights in a cavern deep below Sturmhalten Castle.

Violetta concentrated on her technique and let the routine take over: lunge, jab, duck, roll, kick, retreat, side-step, kick. She swung in a graceful arc, her leg slicing through the air silently, getting an approving nod from the trainer as he passed.

Her pride was only fleeting as her foot caught on her cloak a moment later, sending her off balance and dancing to the right to stay on her feet just as everyone else dodged left. She slammed into Misha--a dark, lanky Knight she actually wasn't related to in any way.

He hissed, baring physically pointed teeth that gave him a monstrous, otherworldly appearance. From behind, someone smacked her head, toppling her completely over, but she managed to roll with her momentum and pop back onto her feet.

"Back to your station, runt," Viktor, one of her many cousins, said with a sneer.

Violetta growled but hurried to her spot in line and fell back into the routine. Lunge, jab, duck, roll, kick, retreat, side-step, kick, backflip. 

Wait, backflip?

She'd been doing this routine daily for five years and knew there was no backflip yet that's what the trainer called. She processed it all in a matter of seconds, her body responding out of instinct as she hopped back, bending at the waist to land on her hands and bounce effortlessly over onto her feet again in the ready position.

The room filled with groans and muttered curses. It looked like only about a quarter of the class actually followed the trainer's instructions, causing the half that continued the drilled routine to run into them while the other fourth were caught completely off guard and just stopped in confusion.

"Halt," the trainer shouted, ending the various disputes erupting over wounded egos more than physical injuries. "What just happened?"

The students returned to their positions in silence, but the trainer obviously wanted an answer. He walked the lines, frowning at anyone even a centimeter out of place and stopping in front of Viktor. "Well?"

Viktor raised his chin. "I'm not sure, Herr Delmeck--it appears some people messed up their training."

He side-eyed Violetta in front of him with a smirk directing the trainer's attention to her. She grit her teeth, eyes snapping forward again as she straightened to her full, miserably tiny height that barely came above Herr Delmeck's waist.

"What do you have to say about this Miss Mondarev?"

Violetta swallowed hard--she hated having unwanted attention on her, but she was so good at attracting it. "The routine changed," she said with almost no nervous wobble to her voice.

Delmeck rested his hands behind his back and cocked his head. "By definition, routines don't change,"

"This one did."

Delmeck's eyebrow shot up as Viktor and his friends barely smothered their laughter.

Violetta took a deep breath and let it out slowly--someday she'd learn to keep her mouth shut. "You said, 'backflip,' Herr Delmeck, but there isn't a backflip in the routine."

"Interesting--are you sure?"

"Yes, sir, very sure."

Viktor stilled, his snickering tapering off as he must have realized his mistake.

"And how did you respond to the change in routine, Miss Mondarev?"

"I back-flipped," she said, holding her head high.

"And you, Reinstein, what did you do?"

Viktor bit his lip hard before finally answering. "I spun left."

"Why?"

"Because that's how the routine goes, and you just said routines don't change by definition, sir." There was the faintest bit of a question in his tone.

"Miss Mondarev, why did you do the backflip?"

Violetta frowned--was this a trick question? Tarvek said they were always trying to shake the students up--to keep them on their toes so to speak. There was no point in second-guessing herself now. "Because that's what you said to do so I did it."

Delmeck nodded thoughtfully then strolled back to the front of the room. "Ready position," he called getting a groan from some of the younger trainees.

Violetta settled into the position--a half crouch, weight on the balls of your feet, elbows at ninety degrees.

"How many of you heard me call for the flip?" Delmeck now asked, turning to face them. About half the class raised their hands. "Position three, if you will."

As a group, the sixteen of them rolled forward and balanced on their right foot, left leg extended, arms behind them. Delmeck slowly paced the perimeter of the squad as if they had all the time in the world.

Violetta guessed from his perspective they did, but right now she couldn't see it through the trickle of sweat that slid down her forehead, into her eye, and dripped from her cheek as she fought her own muscles to stay balanced.

"Now we have an interesting dilemma," Delmeck continued. "Two competing theories of instruction have been exposed by the insertion of a new command. Some of you continued the routine despite the new direction because that's the way it's always been done--position four."

Three kids swept their outstretched foot around to the back and switched their weight to their arms, now resting in a lowered push-up. Viktor remained in the ready position, his legs shaking with the effort to maintain the stance as he apparently hadn't even heard the change in routine to begin with.

"Some of you immediately reacted, changing your routine to match the commands--position seven."

Violetta forced her muscles into action, rolling back over her head and into a handstand before lowering her toes to just barely touch the ground--her body in a reverse "v." Her nearly numb right leg thanked her even as her arms began to strain.

Delmeck passed her to stand in front of Misha, eyes narrowed. "And some of you heard the command and froze like confused field mice first hearing the owl's eerie cry in the night--position nine."

When Misha didn't immediately move, Delmeck shoved his forehead sending him onto his back. "You're dead, Herr Dohvoshki--the owl has eaten you in your foolish hesitation."

Misha sighed and reluctantly got into position--flat as a board balanced on just his hands under him.

"The question now for you to ponder is which reaction was correct, and I'll be clear from the start that Herr Dohvoshki was not correct. In the field which would be beneficial--following routine or following orders?"

Violetta wasn't sure Delmeck actually expected an answer and wished Tarvek was here because he was always five steps ahead of everyone and always knew what to say or do. He would have already worked out the answer instead of sitting there watching the sweat pool beneath his face.

It was a long time before Violetta realized Delmeck wasn't waiting for an answer because he wasn't even in the room anymore. Now what? she wondered, sure only that this was some kind of test.

Slowly, the other students realized the same thing. Violetta could hear hushed conversations around the cavern about what to do--did they hold the poses or give up? She didn't care what the others did because she wasn't moving until her muscles gave out.

Through her legs, she watched Viktor let out a long breath, blowing a fringe of damp bangs from his red face before collapsing onto his back to stretch out his trembling legs.

He lifted his head enough to see her then scowled. "This is your fault, runt."

How did he figure that? She didn't ask out loud, though, because Delmeck hadn't given them permission to speak any more than he had to move before disappearing. For all they knew, he was watching from a dark corner.

No, Violetta wouldn't give up that easily like Misha who set himself on the ground and twisted his sore wrists at his side while muttering curses. She decided to use the time to go over her other recent failures which seemed to be the theme of the week.

The argument with Tarvek weighed heavily on her mind and heart which just made her angry because she wasn't supposed to care what the idiot thought of her. Her training was to keep him alive any means necessary and that didn't include being his friend. She hated that she cared what he thought--that he made her hurt this much, but she didn't know how to stop; she couldn't turn her feelings off like Tarvek could.

Then she'd somehow exposed her position to Martellus so he caught her spying. It was like he had a sixth sense about those things which was even more reason to dislike him. She had almost gotten away if it wasn't for Tarvek and that fight. Now she had to figure out what Martellus was up to while he was on to her. Not impossible but considerably trickier.

Then there was Holzfäller.

She frowned at the spot of darkened stone directly beneath her face. The potion should have worked on him--she even gave him a double dose, but she couldn't get him to tell her anything. Her instinct was to go to Tarvek because he'd be able to figure out where she went wrong without making her feel like a dumb child. Not being on speaking terms was hard on more levels than she anticipated.

Her vials weren't labeled because that gave too much potential information to the enemy, but she was sure she used the correct one. That left two possible scenarios--there was something wrong with the potion or Holzfäller had a high resistance to mind control which sounded ridiculous.

Smoke Knights trained for decades to withstand their own drugs--Holzfäller was just some kid who didn't even know what Smoke Knights were. Violetta reluctantly had to conclude that the error was hers.

The truth serum worked by loosening the victim's inhibitions and resistance so they can't help but answer, but it worked best when the interrogator was seen as authoritative, and it was hard to be taken seriously when she was so small.

So, as usual, the answer is I suck.

The room was suddenly abuzz with activity, making Violetta wonder how long she'd been lost in thought. She tried to find the source of the commotion without moving too much but didn't need to struggle much as a pair of legs in white trousers appeared before her.

"Well, what do we have here?" Martellus asked, squatting down to see her face. "What have you gotten yourself into this time, little dumpling?"

It took every ounce of will power not to nail him in his family jewels just for using their grandmother's nickname for her. He laughed and patted her head like a dog knowing how she hated to be patronized. Her muscles quivered with barely contained rage, but she still refused to move until Herr Delmeck gave his consent--this was now a battle of wills.

[ Part 14 ]

[akatokuro]

The Inevitable Saint Seiya Rewatch, Episodes 16-19

i am legitimately unsure how to respond to seiya fucking murdering a lady

- Hyouga, why the fuck would you leave your invincible rosary at Ikki's grave. TAKE THAT SHIT TO MU AND HAVE HIM RESEARCH IT HADES WILL NOT STAND A CHANCE

- ah yes, time for delicious toei filler

- In all seriousness, this filler is goofy and ridiculous as fuck, (OH NO THE BUGS ARE STEALING MY COSMO!!!) but I actually do like some of the character moments a lot, and I like the idea of the core group + Saori having time to bond and really become a team before shit starts really going down, and before Saori realizes she's a goddess.

- I have to wonder, though, if you're going to make filler to try to buy time while Kurumada smokes weed and makes shit up, why would you go with a really obvious "evil Pope" plotline? Seriously, it should be super obvious that eventually the manga is going to have its own plans for the Pope and Sanctuary, since he was a big figure in the first chapter/episode. Like, if the anime went to do completely its own thing, that'd be fine, but the halfway measure where it tries to weave weirdly back into the manga is just, uh, strange.

- Not that projecting Saga onto Toei's Evil Pope (complete with Evil Harem!) isn't the funniest fucking thing, don't get me wrong. Wait until they find out how much he loves being an owl!

- I mean, yeah, the montage of trainees dying horrifically by the hundreds is brutal and disturbing, but... is it really that much harsher than the picture we get of regular Saint training, considering LOL NINETY DEAD KIDS WHOOPS? I dunno...

- Marin and Shaina are both legitimately really cool characters. Saint Seiya ladies in general are cool as hell, you just wish that they got more focus, Saori included.

- The way Toei tries to inject RACISM!!! as another reason why Sanctuary evil feels a little weird, considering that, like, half of their Gold Saints aren't from Greece either...

- A wild Aiolia appears! The early stealth appearances of the Golds are a lot of fun. (Imagine how much more fun they could be if they were actually seeded in with, like, intent!) At this stage if you're watching blind you probably have no idea to make of this guy, who is also the narrator for the episodes...? It doesn't feel like he's obviously been set up as a "future opponent", but he's also not going out of his way to oppose the bad guys, either... but he does seem to be Marin's friend, so hmm...

-  It just seems like the kind of thing that'd be fun to play with, expectations-wise, if you're going to revise the series with hindsight in mind. In a way that, you know, gender-swapping Shun is not. What? Did I say something?

- Man, though, a Silver Saint like Shaina who is willing to shit-talk a Gold like Lia to his face... yikes. That's sort of nuts. You really do get no respect around here, do you, Aiolia...?

- have i mentioned lately that i'm in love with saori

- "Why are they after the Gold Cloth?" UH, BECAUSE IT'S A GOLD CLOTH, GUYS? HYOUGA, SHIRYUU, YOU TWO WERE TRAINED BY FUCKING GOLDS. SEIYA YOU'VE LIVED HALF YOUR LIFE IN SANCTUARY. YOU SHOULD UNDERSTAND THIS IS KIND OF A BIG DEAL?

- "Our magic warriors were secretly behind every major historical event ever" was cringe in Madoka Magica and, uh, it's cringe here too, sorry!

- I'd loooove to see a more elaborate process of Saori slowly realizing and coming to terms with being Athena. More Saori content in general, pls.

- AH YES, THE SHUN SHOWER SCENE

- AH YES, THE SHIRYUU WAKING UP WITH KIKI SCENE

- I really like seeing the Bronzies do stuff like run around town doing "normal" activities, like Shun jogging, though! Shun is cute! CUTE! I even like seeing Seiya hanging around with the orphanage kids and setting up Miho for extreme disappointment.

- SAORI STANDING UP TO AND SASSING A SAINT WHO JUST BLEW HER HOUSE UP BY HERSELF I CAN'T IMAGINE BEING THIS BADASS GOD

- her expression change when seiya shows up though hnnnnng

- The setup is dumb filler, but I like the underscoring that Saori is HARDCORE (ignore me, protect the Cloth!), the Bronzies meeting up to discuss what they should do, and Seiya's not-super-personal rationale at this point for going to rescue Saori. I actually do think their relationship has nice progression, the fact that ideally there would have been more focus on Saori realizing her Foundation is pretty fucking evil aside.

- wait, you guys are going with hyouga's plan? seriously? oh shit..........

- AND THE CRYSTAL SAINT APPEARS. MY NEMESIS

- oh my god i want to see camus demonstrating this hilarious ass leg freezing technique. 'donk' sound effect and all. why would you deprive me of this

- i like how even the crystal saint, someone who is obviously defined as very much a 'nice/good saint', will cheerfully watch his student get mauled by a polar bear as part of his training though

- I'm not sure if it's more plausible that CRYSTAL SAINT failed to warn Hyouga that "hey, even if you freeze their legs, they can still punch you" or if Hyouga heard and just forgot...

- Shiryuu and Kiki are too late to reach the cave, watching them fly away in a helicopter because this is a filler arc. Wait, Sanctuary uses helicopters? Is there a helipad in Saga's house? Is it equipped with a personal bath? I need to know these things, dammit!

- I would seriously watch an entire fucking episode of just the Bronzies and Saori sitting in a room together discussing battle plans and other serious business, punctuated by Seiya and Saori occasionally flirting, and Hyouga occasionally invading Shun's personal space. A+++ quality episode right there.

- GHOOOOOOST SAAAAAAAAAAAAINTS

- poor shaina, getting filler villain-ized. but on the other hand, i kind of like her more in the role of 'ruthless and threatening villain/supporting character' as opposed to having a crush on seiya, ngl.

- Saori shitting on Tatsumi is always the greatest thing. But even that aside, even with the GHOOOST SAAAAINTS, I... like the idea of more elements of the Graude Foundation and their interactions with the actual world getting involved in this conflict?

- ghost saints tho...........

- I also really like Saori already showing she's growing up and changing the way she thinks. She has this perpetually troubled air about her even in the Ikki arc, so even though there's not as much focus on what's going on in her head as there SHOULD be, it's plausible she's really mulling things over, re-evaluating them, and internally struggling so she can be up to this task she doesn't fully understand. Rather than being smug about Graude's capabilities like Tatsumi and like she was in the early episodes, she's already thinking about the impact of their actions on the world at large. Because she rules.

- Really wish we had some aspect of her more directly confronting the fact that her grandfather was an evil fuck, but it's one of those things I feel like I can probably headcanon too, I suppose.

- shun and the nebula chains mvp all day every day

- i like how seiya is sitting there playing sad guitar and hyouga and shiryuu huddle together and are just like "man seiya's guitar sucks" “i know right”

- Saori's growth is great because she really feels like an actual character to me? There's an awkwardness about how she's trying to approach the Bronzies and bond with them that feels really organic and endearing, but she's trying very hard. I really like touches like Saori trying to say the reason she came was because she was worried about them, and Hyouga and Shiryuu sort of exchanging this skeptical glance. It's what makes things on Saori's end sort of easy to 'headcanon', so to speak.

- I love this whole idea of Saori randomly chucking her jewelry into the ocean to 'show her appreciation'. Because it's so fucking weird and awkward. This is a gesture that doesn't actually mean anything to the Bronzies - they're totally like "huh? uh, okay" - and objectively it's a dumb useless thing to do, but you can tell she, as a young girl, has really been wracking her brain over how to SHOW that she's growing to care about them, and... and came up with this? Uh, it seemed like a good idea maybe? And her self-consciousness continues to come through, the way she can't even look at the Bronzies as she explains what she's trying to say is that their lives are more important than any Cloth.

- In growing this way, Saori is already vastly different from her grandfather and even Sanctuary, who obviously didn't value life at all - but Saori is trying to figure out and navigate this new way of thinking and caring on her own. Of course it'll be clumsy as hell, but there's also a real earnestness to it. Saori is so great...

- THE HYOSHUN IS VERY REAL. even in the midst of dumb filler, i love the way hyouga is so consistently attentive to shun. why is hyouga the only one who reacts to shun getting pulled underwater and then tries to save him? shiryuu was right there too... i mean...

- (the answer: hyouga is crushing on him hard, but)

- shun catching hyouga on the cliff against THE EVIL BUGS too ffffffffff

- NEBULA CHAIN! PULL IT UP!

- "Shiryuu, what happened!?" "I DON'T KNOW." and then we never speak of this again. sounds legit tbh

- holy shit did seiya just fucking murder a lady

- seiya just totally cold-bloodedly murdered a lady

- AIOLOS DID YOU JUST FUCKING WINK AT SEIYA AFTER HE MURDERED A LADY THROUGH YOUR HELMET I..................

- no, but seriously, she's fucking lying helpless face down on the ground and seiya fucking punches her to death what the fuck. even the way the shot is framed. and then you get to hear her scream in pain as she's being fucking punched to death. like seiya could have seen an opening and punched her as she was falling from aiolos's sucker punch, but while she's literally lying on the ground is really... uh...

- WELL, UM, MOVING ON I GUESS... SAINT SEIYA!

[solivar]

Rattling my tip jar again. This past month and change has been an absolute storm of financial hits. Any donation of any kind will get a ficlet, just message me here.

Also, for your edification: the start of something I was planning to finish before I posted but which you’ll see first now in thanks for your past and present support.

Code Talker:  D Is For Deadlock or Possibly Ah-Da-Ah-Ho-Dzah

It began, as many things involving Overwatch ultimately did, with an anonymous text message dropped in a tipline mailbox (“IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING,” the rallying cry of Homeland Security since at least the mid-Oughts, weaponizing the paranoia of random citizens being a thing that never truly went out of style). It ended, as did many things that eventually came to involve Blackwatch, with small arms fire and carefully orchestrated explosions and interrogation rooms under places not formally known as prisons. In between, there was a mystery.

And if there was anything that Commander Gabriel Reyes absolutely could not resist, it was a mystery. Particularly when the alternative was paperwork.

⧫

“A secretary.”

Gabriel did not look up from the screen he was perusing, primarily because he didn’t want to have to either see or acknowledge the look of supreme despair that he knew would be living on his commanding officer’s face at that moment. “What about him? And it’s ‘administrative aide.’ Get with the proper terminology, Commander.”

“Wait, you actually have one?” That sounded more incredulous than actively despairing and so he chanced a look and found Jack Morrison, Commander of Overwatch, staring at him with unvarnished astonishment naked on his face. Admittedly, the astonishment might have had more to do with the fact that every available horizontal surface in his office was covered in the neatly, precisely arranged by both chronological order and grade of importance stacks of hardcopy and their accompanying workpads that represented eight full months of only dubiously attended paperwork than it did with his actual possession of a administrative aide. Or a secretary. Either/or. “Where is she?”

“Right now?” Gabriel checked the schedule. “Down in the range improving his service pistol marksmanship qualifications to at least expert.”

“...Really. Really, Gabe.” Now there was the absolute despair he had grown to know and love. “Is the kid even field rated? Does he have to be in order to successfully serve as your s -- administrative aide?”

“He will be by the time I’m done with him.” Gabriel replied, evenly, and finished signing off on his segment of a report that might or might not have involved highly sensitive operations currently underway beneath the Ross ice shelf in Antarctica. “And he will also be perfectly competent to put a bullet or two in anybody who tries to walk into or out of this office with something they ought not to be carrying. Or anyone else’s office, once he gets tired of working for me and runs screaming into the night. It’s an all-around win for the organization.”

“You remain the world’s most dedicated troll. I love you, but it’s true.” Jack lifted a stack of something that probably constituted only dubiously actionable intel given its relative proximity to his desk, deposited it neatly on the floor, and pushed the hoverchair previously occupied over, handed a tablet across the desk to take the place of the one he’d just set aside. “I probably shouldn’t distract you from bringing joy to the hearts of filing clerks all over the northern hemisphere but I really think I need to read you in on this one.”

“Do tell.” Gabriel made some space on his desk by virtue of piling three things he absolutely did not want to deal with just then together, opening a drawer, and dropping them inside, where they would molder at least until his aide got back from the firing range.

Jack tapped the pad pointedly. “Two weeks ago, someone texted that to the US Department of Homeland Security office in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The tipline mailbox.”

Gabriel inclined a single, are you fucking with me brow and thumbed the tablet open. The message was a precisely arranged block of alphanumeric text followed by twenty pages of increasingly baffled and irritated memos back and forth between the DHS field office, DHS HQ in DC, and, finally, the Overwatch field office just down the hall and three floors up. He paged through them, eyebrows migrating steadily in the direction of his hairline as he went and, when he was finished, he muttered aloud. “What the actual fuck?”

“Cryptanalysis tends to agree with the assessment that it’s a cipher of some kind -- the original thought was a relatively basic transposition variant. The frequency analysis suggested as much. But when they tried to decrypt it on the basis of that theory, not a single attempt produced a readable result.” A wry little smile. “Athena’s been running cipher tables for days and getting nothing.”

“So why exactly are we thinking this is something worth cracking and not just some intensely bored computer science nerd idly trolling the local DHS office?” He could see why they’d thought in that direction, as a part of his brain started working out the math and the transposition modifiers and, even then, saw exactly why it wouldn’t work.

“Because whoever sent the initial message sent it again -- three times in the last three days, a secured line that comprehensively defeated any attempt to trace it back to its source. I know, I know. It doesn’t sound like a particularly good argument in favor of this not being an elaborate snipe hunt to me, either.” He reached over and tapped the screen, pulled up a secondary file. “But the Agent in Charge of the Santa Fe office thinks otherwise -- said they had a similar attempt at communication early last year but the message got fumbled and now she’s wondering if it didn’t have something to do with an incident that went down out in the badlands wilderness area.”

Gabriel disengaged himself from his consideration of the puzzle with an almost physical effort. “What kind of incident?”

“A team of geoscience grad students from California found a mass grave full of relatively fresh corpses, ten in total. Local law enforcement took over and, upon investigating the site, found that the bodies were all members of La Muerte Roja, a local gang known for having not particularly cordial relations with another local gang -- “

“Let me guess! Deadlock.”

“In one. The AiC, Julia Alvarez, thinks someone was trying to tip them off on the location -- either of the grave, or whatever it was that caused those fine upstanding individuals to find their way into it.” A pause. “Admittedly, I’m not so sure I buy that, either. But, since Deadlock pinged the radar recently, I thought it might be worth investigating, if only to rule out the possibility.”

“The possibility that someone is trying to pass coded messages about Deadlock activity to the Department of Homeland Security.” Gabriel’s eyes slid, involuntarily, back to the screen.

“It sounds even stupider when you say it out loud.”

“It’s not stupid. Or at least not stupider than anything else it could possibly be.” He glanced up. “Is that an order, Strike Commander?”

“If you want it to be, Commander Reyes.” Jack stood up, and deposited a fresh stack of paperwork in front of him. “Far be it from me to interfere in any of your more pressing duties.”

Gabriel grinned up at him. “Asshole.”

“Slacker. Get to work.”

⧫

To give the actually and legitimately more pressing duties the full and undivided attention they deserved, he stuck the pad in the desk drawer that contained his current cross-stitch project, a random selection of knitting needles, sixteen legal pads full of random sketches, and every fiddle toy ever gifted to him by the rest of the Overwatch command staff, some of which he occasionally even used. Then he locked it, once the estimable young Master Kestenholz returned from the firing range still smelling slightly of cordite, so as to better concentrate on the things that really required his attention at that very moment. And for at least a handful of hours he was able to firmly push it out of his mind while they rediscovered what the top of his desk and the storage credenza looked like which, considering the sheer volume of crap that needed to be signed, sent, and subsequently filed, he thought was a perfectly adequate day’s work.

“Are you certain, Commander?” And he was so damn young and earnest as he said it, too, all industrious diligence with shining golden curls and huge blue eyes and a charming Swiss accent and Gabriel was briefly convinced that this kid had obviously been vat-grown and programmed specifically to act as his adjunct administrative functions conscience. “It’s only six.”

“Yes, I’m sure -- and you say that now but give it two months.” He grinned and waved off the ensuing objections. “Go home, Kestenholz. And I don’t want to see your face before 0900 tomorrow.”

Which gave him approximately fifteen hours to work on the really classified stuff occupying the futon in the corner, to which he applied a solid six before the itch in the back of his skull grew too insistent to ignore. The rest went into the blastproof, bulletproof storage locker for later and the irresistible puzzle-bearing tablet came out. “Athena.”

The holoscreen occupying the corner of his desk activated itself, displaying Athena’s stylized personal signifier icon, and her voice issued melodiously from the hidden speakers. “Yes, Commander Reyes?”

“May I see the transposition tables you prepared for this communication?” He sent the files to his personal workstation and opened them all in a fan spread alongside the main display, upon which Athena kindly pulled up the decryption attempts she’d prepared. “Thank you. Now...why do you look so familiar?”

And it was familiar, aggravatingly so, mostly because the reason for it danced mockingly just out of reach. It did so for the rest of the night, not a bit of which was spent sacked out on the now-accessible futon, and at breakfast, when he strolled into the officers’ mess with a fresh legal pad covered in scribbles for his first coffee and five thousand calories for the day, and continued itching relentlessly through the remainder of the morning, even as he reviewed paperwork and signed off on reports and piled physical documents to be archived into the arms of his exceedingly cheerful aide.  The bulk of the stuff that Kestenholz could have access to at his current security rating was sitting on a hovercart by just after thirteen hundred, leaving only the still-locked case he’d have to shoot the kid over and two greatly reduced piles of barely-qualifying-as-intel and the small part of his brain currently paying no attention whatsoever to any of it was forcefully dragging the rest away.

“Kestenholz, go and hand that off to Archives, take lunch, and -- “ He pulled up the daily schedule, made an amendment, “go hit the range. We’ll deal with the rest of this after you’ve had the chance to let your arms uncramp.”

“I am feeling a bit peckish.” Kestenholz admitted, with the same unflagging good cheer he’d had on display upon arrival that morning, and Gabriel made a mental note to seriously find out the provenance of that kid and, even if it was an amiable Swiss cloning facility, to write a formal letter of commendation both for his can-do attitude, his ability to keep pace, and his borderline saintly tolerance for terrible paperwork discipline from senior officers. “Would you like me to have the commissary send anything up?”

“Thank you, no. I’ll get something later.” His fingers twitched with the urge to open that file again. “Dismissed, Mr. Kestenholz. Eat a strudel for me.”

Two hours later, he was still gazing, eyes half-focused, at the screens spread out in the air before him, on which six different attempts to decrypt the message according to six separate and distinct methods had produced six different kinds of total gibberish. “I should send you over to Analysis and see what Icebreaker and his pale computer larvae can come up with…”

“Are you talking to me?” The voice was warm, richly amused, and came from the door; he looked over the top of the screen he was currently perusing and found Ana standing there, fist still raised from the knock that he hadn’t heard.

“To myself mostly. What can I do for you?” He rotated the non-solution solution sitting in front of him and spun it, nettled beyond endurance by its ongoing refusal to make sense.

“Oh, nothing really.” Stepped in, closed the door behind her. “It’s just my turn to remind you to eat.”

“I’ve had breakfast. A gigantic breakfast, I assure you, but thank you for your concern.” He laced his fingers together and gave her a Look overtop them; she was not noticeably intimidated.

“It’s fifteen hundred hours, Gabriel.” The gentlest of all possible reproof in her tone. “And it’s also my turn to remind you to sleep.” She came all the way around and very deliberately sat on the edge of his desk, blocking a set of screens from easy view. “You have been sleeping, yes?”

“...For certain values of ‘sleeping.’” Gabriel hedged and turned to face her. “I caught some rest the other day.”

“Which other day? Because it’s Wednesday. And, frankly,” Ana leaned in and smiled beneficently down at him, “you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping. At all.”

“Blame this.” He flicked the screen again and watched its contents spin. “It came in through DHS yesterday afternoon and it’s been eating my goddamned brain.”

Ana caught the edge of the display, considered, and frowned deeply. “A substitution code of some kind?”

“That’s what frequency analysis suggests -- the AiC who sent it seems to think it has something to do with gang-related activity in the southwestern badlands, but nothing I’ve done to spindle, fold, or mutilate it has yielded a coherent message. Not in English, not in Spanish.” He poked the screen again a bit more vengefully. “Even with the Latin alphabet I’m not sure….” It clicked together in his mind. “It’s a Latin alphabet. But it’s not made up of Latin phonemes. There’s more than twenty-six letters, that’s why a standard modular solution doesn’t work.”

“Gabriel?” Ana blinked at him as he stood up, took her gently but firmly by the elbow, and steered her back out the door. “Are you -- “

“Ana, I love you dearly, but get out. I almost have this.” He closed the door, also firmly but gently, in her face.

“I am having food sent up, Gabriel!” Ana shouted, kindly, from the hallway. “And if Athena tells me you haven’t gone back to your quarters by twenty-one hundred I am coming back with my rifle and a tranquilizer dart.”

“You do what you have to do, Ana!” He called back and got to work.

Four hours later, he activated his comm, requested a secure line to the Strike Commander’s office, and waited patiently while it went through. “Gabe?”

“Well, I’m going to tell you right now that the Agent in Charge there in Santa Fe might have been onto something about that earlier message, Jack.” Gabriel replied, by way of greeting. “And she’s completely right about this one.”

“You cracked it?” A pause. “How long have you been working on this? Jesus, Gabe. Have you even slept?”

“Look, I’ll sleep when I’m dead, okay?” He punched open a secure data connection and sent over what he’d found. “Also: whoever sent this is either a math genius, a historian, a linguist, or some combination of thereof. Take a look.”

The line was silent for some moments as Jack opened the file and examined it. “What language is that? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“It’s Navajo. Diné bizaad. The frequency analysis was pinging on the fact that the written language uses a modified Latin alphabet -- but with thirty-six letters instead of twenty-six, which threw any modular mathematical attempt to decipher it off by a factor of ten. It is a relatively simple monoalphabetic substitution cipher, at base.” Gabriel leaned back in his chair. “It’s the translation, in this case, that’s interesting.”

“You’re enjoying this entirely too much.” Jack informed him and he had to allow there was a certain amount of truth to that.

“The message was: Want to help. Text this number when this message is received.”

“...You already texted it, haven’t you.” It wasn’t actually a question.

“I have! And I received a very interesting response, too.” He forwarded the rest of the information: message, translation, satellite overflight maps, preliminary analysis. “In brief: the coordinates translate to a place in the hills near where Alamogordo used to be before the Crisis. I requested any recent satellite overflight images, ran some historical comparisons against archival data, and I do believe what we’re looking at here is a man-made structure. More specifically, it’s a drop point of some kind. And that word, right there, is Deadlock.” He pulled up the video feed so he could watch the information filtering into Jack’s head. “This is me formally requesting permission to detail a Blackwatch operations team to investigate.”

“I never should have given this to you.” Jack looked up from the documentation. “You think there’s something actionable on this? We can spin the DHS field office in Santa Fe passing this along into a de facto request for intervention, if necessary, provided we keep it on the down-low -- Washington’s been getting pretty hissy about having all the legalities tucked neatly in order before they’ll sign off on our involvement in domestic law enforcement issues.”

“The Central American Collective has already formally requested intervention on the issue of cross-border contraband smuggling -- and if the smugglers, and the contraband, originate north of the border, that means the issue has passed domesticity and into our remit.” He laced his fingers together to keep them from fidgeting. “And, yes, I think it’s something. There are roads coming in and out of that place that are visible from orbit, which means they’re traveled semi-frequently. Someone in a position to know where it was reached out about it and the means they used to do so argued that they’re also in a position of risk as well as knowledge. I’m not suggesting we go in guns blazing, but putting some eyes on the situation couldn’t hurt.”

“All right. Pick your team. I’ll cut the orders -- observation only, for the time being. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”