#but I’m imagining my power if I used my work downtime to like actually read and write

[foxmulderautism]

kinda love the day before work cause what other scenario has me tucked into bed at 8:47pm

[commander-diomika]

[Image ID: Screenshot of a tumblr reply from user @weareallfromearth ​​ saying “Holy shit I would V much like to know what you’d do with ZolfWilde.” End ID]

This was in response to me tag rambling that if Alex “I don’t Actually Have That Much Experience in Courtship” Newall and Ben “I just Realised I’m Too Straight For This” Meredith don’t know what to do with Zolf/Wilde, they should hand the ship over to me. 

*rubs my gay little hands together.*

I initially characterized them offhandedly as Enemies-to-Lovers but that’s not quite it, is it? On reflection I would say it’s more of an Opposites Attract situation.

Oscar Wilde, as re-imagined in the RQG universe, is a homme fatale; a dangerous, attractive man, skilled in encouraging people to underestimate him, wearing different masks, never quite being able to trust or be trusted by anyone.

There is NO personal/professional line for Wilde. He lives his work, and his work is subterfuge and interpersonal manipulation. (whether or not he started this way in his field as a journalist, or was forced to become this way by the changes in his world, is another post.) He is a person who either cares very deeply what people think of him, or is has decided that manipulating what people think of him is the way to get what he wants, and from the outside it makes no difference.

Zolf Smith does not care what people think of him. He isn’t even skilled at being kind and empathetic to people he cares about; he has no time for emotional manipulation or genuine charm. He doesn’t even have a fantastic grasp on his OWN feelings, let alone other people��s. He’s grounded, disinterested in frippery or appearances. Which is why Zolf and Wilde started out so deeply at odds with one another.

Despite the differences in the interpersonal approaches, they have plenty of common ground.

They are both deeply dedicated to a cause. They care about their work to the exclusion of all else. They are both pragmatists who have their own internal moral code, and are willing to bend or break other people’s rules in order to get the job done. They are fundamentally good people. Despite their rocky beginnings, they can respect each other because of these things.

And they might have maintained their mutually disdainful, begrudgingly respectful working relationship and that could have been the sum total... Except then the world fell apart. The Meritocratic organisation was initially compromised, then disintegrated. The blue vein plague isolated everyone and made it even harder to trust supposed allies. The Cult of Hades was on everyone’s ass making their life difficult, the other PCs disappeared off the face of the planet. Zolf and Wilde ended up in a situation where they had no one else they could trust.

Familiarity breeds contempt, but maybe if the contempt is already there, it builds Something Else. Wilde was stripped of his magic in a way that made it much harder for him to keep people at a distance and (pardon the pun) project the illusion of the debonair playboy. Zolf would have had the chance to see through Wilde’s masks, and get a better understanding of what parts of Wilde were a calculated tactic, and what was his genuine self.

Whatever betrayal transpired that gave Wilde his scar and hardened him, Zolf was privy to. He was either there and saw it happen, or he was close enough in the aftermath to see Wilde properly vulnerable for the first time in their friendship. Hell, maybe Zolf was the one who rescued him and patched him up. That was a chance for Zolf to realise that this insufferable man is a friend who he cares about deeply. At this point, he’s cared for awhile, but has been too wrapped up with his own spiritual difficulties to have space to admit that to himself.

And Wilde, oh Wilde, he’s desperate to be seen and known and loved, but he’s never allowed himself. He’s never felt SAFE to. He doesn’t let people get close, treats every conversation as a battle to be won. His safety and his power lies in being admired, but never loved. So even as trust and fondness for Zolf blossoms within him, he won’t for a second allow himself to hope that the fondness is reciprocated

With all that out of the way, this is my version of events.  

Wilde is a slut (affectionate), and Zolf is gray-ace, so if there’s any bridging of that gap in terms of physical intimacy, it has to be from Zolf’s side. Giving canon a tender massage into place, that first instance of Zolf grabbing Wilde by the collar changes. (This happens on the Vengeance after Zolf has taught Wilde to steer the ship). Zolf drags Wilde down to say “I’m glad to see you perked up.” That moment now involves a whiskery kiss on Wilde’s cheek, and the man would be absolutely FLOORED by it.

I’m talking slow-mo glittering lights as Zolf stomps off blushing, unsure what just came over him; Wilde touches his cheek in bewilderment for a stretched moment before realising he’s completely agog, and he let go of the wheel for a dangerous length of time. Every interaction, every moment they’ve spent together over the last two years is flashing before Wilde’s eyes and a new context is being applied rapid fire. I’m talking the italacised oh kind of moment.

(on top of Zolf being witness to The Betrayal, throw some other moments of almost-intimacy into said flashbacks. I’m talking late nights, Zolf doing his gruff-yet-kind caretaker thing, cooking for Wilde, maybe sharing quiet and rare downtime with Zolf reading a Campbell novel on a couch in Wilde’s office)

Wilde is realising, “Oh this is allowed, oh this is reciprocated, this is possible.”

And of course they don’t talk about it, because what’s a slowburn if they immediately go and TALK about their feelings? No, the kiss goes completely unremarked upon, and Wilde continues to needle and tease and get under Zolf’s skin, except now with an added warmth in his eyes because he finally gets it. He finally understands that Zolf cares, that Zolf loves him, he’s just not the kind of dwarf that knows how to express it.

And Zolf, frustrated by feelings he can’t express but is beginning to understand, can hear the undertone of “haha, you looooove me,” shining through Wilde’s deliberate antagonism. They continue their time on the Vengeance just a little easier and closer to one another.

And we continue on to the death/resurrection arc, and Wilde’s spirit pushes for Zolf to open up about his feelings, because if not when he’s literally past death’s door, then when? When Zolf finally manages his “I need you,” it’s like a dam has broken for both of them. The second collar-grab and “We’ll go on a holiday or somethin’,” is now followed by a full kiss on the lips, not particularly erotic but passionate, (it’s the epitome of kissing someone to shut them up) and Wilde makes a surprised and delighted squeak that he would be glad he can’t quite remember when he returns to land of the living.

Once returned, Wilde might not remember everything that his spirit said or did, but he remembers the kiss. The comfort and ease that the two of them share in 179 (Eat Drink and Be Merry) is there, only instead of the two characters still being in a place of questioning their feelings for one another, it’s been answered.

Whether or not this relationship is sexual in nature is kind of up to you and what kind of fan works you like to read/write. I think there are wonderful scenes to be written an explored in many directions.

Wilde allowing himself to enjoy sex for intimacy and closeness instead of using it as a tool/ Zolf not being one for sex but Wilde’s never slept more soundly than when he’s being held in Zolf’s arms/ Zolf realising that the unfamiliar feeling he’s been struggling to express is the desire to rail Wilde til he cries/ Wilde realising that if his partner doesn’t want it from him, he’s actually quite content without sex/ The two of them being mean, antagonistic bastards to each other while fucking but Make It Kink (of the trusting and RACK kind). There really isn’t a single bad interpretation.  

So really, I’m not doing anything different with them other than reading between the lines, giving canon a little nudge, and sticking the landing. This isn’t to disparage the concept of queer platonic partners. (I’ve got one!) or to talk shit about Ben or Alex (I DO respect their craft).

It’s just to say I find these two characters , and everything they’ve been through, PAINFULLY romantic, tropey, and delightful. I’m looking forward both to how Ben and Alex play the QPP, the fanworks I’m gonna read and hopefully write, and the inevitable tragedy that you KNOW Alex is gearing up for.

[hiccanna-tidbits]

The RotBTD+ Gang Plays DnD! (Feat. my ships, sorry not sorry XD)

So highkey I’ve actually been wanting to do a “The Gang Plays DnD” type post for AGES now, but then I saw @hobie-brown and @ohlooksheswriting-wips do DnD AU posts for RotBTD, and then I was like “Ah shit, I really should finish mine, eh?” So thank you to both of you for inspiring me to get off my ass and actually write the post!!!

Hiccup DMs. He comes up with this super complex plot revolving around dragons (because of course) where the party has to dismantle this society ruled by evil knights who want to genocide all of the dragons. Imagine his chagrin when the party wants to do nothing but fuck around in towns and aggravate NPCs 90% of the time.

They usually end up playing at Jack’s apartment, mainly because Hiccup’s dad doesn’t really want a bunch of loud nerds yelling about 20-sided dice in his household while he’s trying to work, if he can at all help it. Jack’s sister regularly barges into their living room and roasts the fuck out of Jack and his friends for being such damn nerds and eats all of their DnD snacks they’ve set out. If they’re in the middle of a combat session, she always gleefully proclaims that they’re all going to die. While Jack is annoyed by this, the rest of the party finds it deeply hilarious.

Jack Overland plays the absolute mayhem warlock Jack Frost, who got his powers through making a deal with the archfey Prince of Frost and has absolutely no qualms about being an evil god’s mortal Sower of Chaos. He spends the vast majority of the campaign doing such useful things as creating ice slicks under annoying NPCs and freezing people’s drinks. He also plays a Tiefling because absolutely no one can talk this boy out of playing the creepy demon race.

Rapunzel plays a woodland nymph druid who is also the party healer (because of course she is). Her name is probably Sunlily or something else suitably hippie-esque. Whenever there’s downtime (or whenever the rest of the party is also dicking around, and she can get away with it), Rapunzel likes to go into the nearest forest and pick the best berries and nuts for the rest of the party. She also loves baking fruit pies and cooking the best nymph food for her companions when given the chance. Definitely the party Cinnamon Roll (every party has one!). She often will turn into cute animals to distract the guards while the party infiltrates a building.

Merida’s character is the party archer and general ranged weapon master, as well as a raging lesbian. Hiccup learns very quickly that any male NPC who tries to flirt with her will very quickly get impaled with an arrow. She can’t ever decide if she wants to be a ranger or a rogue, so she multiclasses in both for flare. She also plays a Tiefling, and continually insists that her character is both scarier and sexier than Jack’s. In combat, she either Leeroy Jenkins her way in with a sword and just starts slashing every which way, or just shoots 90% of the enemies with arrows before the fight even starts. There’s really no in between. She can get away with this because she’s highkey one of the party tanks, and consistently deals a shitton of damage.

Anna plays a human bard, basically having read over the class options and going “Wait, in this one I get to make stylish medieval music??? And wear dramatic and garish outfits and a dumb hat??? And cast wacky illusion spells??? And do silly little magic tricks??? And INSPIRE EVERYONE??? Hell yeah, I’m in!!!” She mostly uses magic attacks in combat (definitely favors Tasha’s Hideous Laughter), but occasionally when she’s out of spell slots she’ll just take to slamming enemies in the face with her lute. She also has WAY too much fun with Vicious Mockery, let’s be real.

Elsa, upon hearing Jack’s character concept, rolls her eyes so far up in her head she can see her damn brain, and vows to play his concept, but serious–solely out of spite. She rolls up a super OP elf Chaos Sorcerer, filled with lots of brooding angst about how uncontrollable her winter powers can get if she isn’t careful. She combines it a bit with Storm Sorcerer so she can create literal blizzards, and Hiccup ends up allowing it just because he thinks it’s cool. Although Elsa’s character is undoubtedly aggravated by the rest of the party’s antics, she starts becoming grudgingly protective of these idiots and can deal some pretty crazy damage when her companions are threatened. She also contains one of the party’s only brain cells.

Eugene of course plays dashing rogue master thief Flynn Rider. Although his high deception and lockpicking skills certainly come in handy, he’s the most chaotic neutral fucker you’ve ever met and will take any excuse to rob NPCs blind or cheat them out of every cent they have in a tavern card game. It’s nigh impossible to get him to cooperate with the rest of the party much of the time, and often Elsa’s character has to either bribe him with some of her family’s gold or threaten to freeze him to stop him backstabbing one or more party members. Eugene’s character forces Hiccup to add in many more heist plotlines than he originally intended. This delights Eugene immensely, and sometimes he goes a bit crazy planning elaborate heists.

Moana plays a sorcerer water genasi. She can control any body of water, but she has a special affinity for controlling saltwater (i.e. the ocean lol). She also requests an animal handling bonus, but only with marine animals, solely because she thought it would be funny. She’s also an ex-pirate who robbed a lot of wealthy merchant ships and freed their slaves back in the day, which Merida thinks is incredibly badass. Moana tends to get bored and unengaged when there are no bodies of water to play around with, so Hiccup ends up having to add a lot more lakes, rivers, and oceans to the campaign than he originally planned on. Moana also takes a sailing skill, and thus the party often ends up traveling by boat. Typically Eugene and Rapunzel will infiltrate and hijack it, and Moana will sail it. Moana probably contains the party’s only other brain cell.

Astrid plays a gigantic berserker orc barbarian who is never without his trusty axe. Astrid is hands down the party’s top tank, and unquestionably deals the most damage every combat session. Much like Merida’s character, Astrid’s character is absolutely a shameless power fantasy. Hiccup pretty easily picks up on this, but is too polite to say anything about it. Jack also picks up on this, but is hardly as courteous as their DM, and teases Astrid mercilessly. Astrid is not amused.

Rapunzel requests that her weapon of choice be a frying pan, her justification being that her character found a discarded one at the edge of a human village outside her woods and mistaked it for a highly-dangerous human weapon. Hiccup is like “…you know what? Fuck it” and rolls up stats for a goddamn frying pan. Jack has nigh-endless admiration for Rapunzel for choosing such a goddamn memey, absurd, yet oddly effective weapon and it definitely makes the poor boy even more smitten with her than he already is.

Eugene and Merida have a bet going on who can sleep with more sexy barmaids. Merida is currently winning, much to Eugene’s chagrin. She’s not even inherently better at seducing NPCs, she and Eugene have the same charisma stat–she just consistently rolls better than Eugene. Eugene is incredibly salty about this.

Anna and Elsa want to be sisters in-game as well, but neither want to change their race–so Anna decides her character was adopted. Hiccup and the rest of the party go along with it, mainly because there’s something deeply hilarious about a regular human bard being adopted and raised by a family of high-powered elf ice mages.

Astrid is absolutely the sort of player who tends to get bored and restless outside of fights, and tends to fidget and twiddle her thumbs waiting for the next combat session. Jack picks up on this, and purposely does more roleplay for longer just to piss her off. He’s also just a very dramatic fucker and highkey loves roleplay.

When she’s not causing mayhem around the town or sleeping with hot women, Merida tries to entertain Astrid between combat sessions by offering to spar with her. Unfortunately, this does not usually end well for poor Merida, as even the most hardcore and badass of tieflings is prone to getting dumpstered by an 8-foot-tall barbarian orc with an axe. Astrid is, nonetheless, grateful to have someone to fight.

Rapunzel, Elsa, and Moana will humor Hiccup and attempt to actually play the main plot. Meanwhile, Jack, Merida, and Eugene are a DM’s worst nightmare. They constantly derail the damn campaign to fuck around, cause mayhem, and do inane shenanigans in every. Damn. Town. They go to. Anna is kind of a wildcard–she’ll typically go with whatever group looks like they’re going to be doing something more interesting. Astrid will go along with whichever group is more likely to get into a fight–which, often as not, is Jack and his posse of terrible Chaotic Neutrals (who have definitely pissed off a number of NPCs into attacking them).

As the campaign goes on, Elsa and Eugene become the beleaguered Party Mom and Dad. Both are quite aggravated by this–especially poor Eugene, who just wanted to play a morally-gray charming rogue who stole everything and got away with it and then accidentally ended up caring about these idiots he got stuck with.

Anna initially joins the campaign because she has a planet-size crush on Hiccup, and inevitably is the one who dragged Elsa into it too. Being the hopeless romantic that she is, Anna writes a love interest into her backstory. Hiccup eventually has the party run into said love interest, and Anna is overjoyed. He starts flirting with her as the love interest, and it’s easily the best 30 minutes of Anna’s life.

Moana and Elsa also give Hiccup pretty detailed backstories, and he works in little subplots for them. Moana gets to bring water back to a dying part of the jungle in the middle of a draught, while Elsa gets to go on a whole sidequest to explore her family history and how they came to be sorcerers.

Jack, Merida, and Eugene also give Hiccup fairly elaborate backstories, but Jack’s and Merida’s are like 99% memes and Dumb Shit. Hiccup tries to give all of them backstory-related plot hooks, but inevitably any hooks he provides are either stabbed, robbed, or frozen. Honestly any plot hook offered to these 3 will be all but spat in the face of and tossed off a cliff.

The one relevant part of Eugene’s backstory is that he and Rapunzel decide they used to be partners in crime before the campaign started. Rapunzel would infiltrate and scout out places he wanted to rob as small, unobtrusive animals (her preferred Wild Shape is a chameleon) and later distract the guards as a bunny or kitten while he went in and took every gold coin in sight. In return, Flynn Rider would bribe builders to not develop into Sunlily’s forest. Rapunzel and Eugene partly came up with this For Funsies, but also it was Rapunzel’s sneaky way of tricking Eugene into having prior connections in the party so he’d be less likely to betray them. It works pretty well–although the entire party is protective of Cinnamon Roll Sunlily, Flynn is certainly especially protective of her.

Astrid does the absolute bare minimum as far as backstories go. She is literally just here to smash stuff, slice people, and beat some fuckers up.

Rapunzel has a backstory, but she’s typically so invested in the main plot and the other party members that Hiccup rarely needs to bring it in to keep her engaged. She’s highkey the party emotional rock, and probably the only one keeping them all together.

On that note, Rapunzel’s character is the ONLY one who can get Jack’s character to take the plot even REMOTELY seriously. Like he’ll be dicking around in the nearest tavern challenging the nearest orc to a drinking game, and Rapunzel will come in and ask him to help them on a Main Plot Quest. And he’ll be like “come onnnnn I’m having funnn” and she’ll be like “Jack pleeeeeease?” and you just. Can’t resist Sunlily’s puppy dog eyes. At all. Also, whenever Sunlily is genuinely threatened, any silliness immediately goes out the window and Jack Frost is OUT FOR BLOOD.

For better or for worse, Rapunzel is not immune to being looped into Jack’s shenanigans. Occasionally if either Merida or Eugene have a particularly hare-brained scheme she’ll go along with it, but by and large Jack is the most successful in convincing her to temporarily abandon the plot and cause mild mischief with him. They once wasted half a session creating an elaborate “ice theme park” for some squirrels in the forest.

Hiccup tries to get Merida to play the main plot by eventually having there be no more sexy female NPCs to seduce in the towns they go to. Unfortunately, this backfires–Merida just hooks up with Moana’s character instead. When asked to roll for how good the lay is, Merida gets a nat 20–and thus her character and Moana’s character end up hooking up regularly throughout the rest of the campaign.

Hiccup introduces a few Wise Old Mentor-type NPCs to guide the party throughout the campaign. While Rapunzel, Elsa, Moana, and Anna actually try to listen to them and take their advice, Merida, Jack, and Eugene absolutely refuse to take them seriously and mercilessly play pranks on them.

At one point, Hiccup gives the party the option to attempt to tame a group of wild dragons and use them as mounts. They all have to make animal handling checks. Anna, Rapunzel, Elsa, and Moana pass. The rest of the party fails, with Jack and Eugene crit-failing. Hilarity ensues.

Hiccup ends up bringing back Anna’s backstory love interest as an NPC regular. Anna thinks he’s just being a good friend and a good DM and trying to incorporate her backstory as much as he can, but really, he just wants an excuse to regularly flirt with her. He hardly has the balls to out-of-game.

Merida comes out as gay toward the end of the campaign. Everyone in the group is extremely supportive, of course, but everyone is also like “Merida…with the amount of barmaids you’ve banged…and the amount of times you and Moana’s character hooked up…this isn’t exactly surprising.”

Hiccup actually finds a way to use Jack and Elsa’s same-concept-opposite-execution characters to the plot’s advantage. He decides one of the main villains will have a prophecy saying he’ll be taken down by a powerful ice mage. The party manages to fool this guy into thinking this ice mage is Jack, and sends Jack to fight him. As soon as the villain sees Jack, he’s like “WHAT??? THIS clown???” (word has absolutely spread throughout the land of Jack not using his ice powers for anything besides mildly annoying trolling). Naturally, the bad guy lets his guard down after thinking he’s going to fight this literal joke, and then Elsa crashes in from the side and absolutely dumpsters him.

Jack tries to defeat the final boss by just annoying him so much that he leaves. Unfortunately, he just annoys him so much that he attacks Rapunzel’s character. Jack’s just like “oh HELL no” and attacks with absolutely nothing held back. Turns out he’s pretty terrifying when he’s not using his magic for Dumb Antics.

During the final boss of the campaign, the Big Bad tries to one-shot Moana’s character, and Merida’s character super theatrically jumps in front of her to take the blow instead. Rapunzel just barely manages to heal Merida’s character, but it’s a really close call. During all this, Merida is like “ah shit...maybe I’m NOT just in this to get fantasy-laid.” After the fight’s over, her and Moana’s characters have a big dramatic love confession and share a Big Damn Kiss in front of everyone. It’s pretty epic.

After the final session of the campaign, Merida drags Moana outside Jack’s apartment and sputters and trips over her words for a solid minute before she finally gets out that through all this nonsense...well...maybe it’s not just in the game that she thinks Moana is hot. Moana just gets this HUGE grin on her face and says “c’mere, Leeroy Jenkins” and just pulls Merida in and kisses her. Cue the rest of the party barging in on them. Merida and Moana freeze, and there’s a moment of terrified silence...and then the entire party starts cheering them on like “took you long enough!”

The entire rest of the party could detect the sexual tension. Literally all of them.

But Eugene is like “HA, THIS MEANS IF WE DO A SEQUEL CAMPAIGN I’M WINNING THAT BET! BECAUSE YOU’RE GONNA BE DATING MO’S CHAR AND THUS NOT ABLE TO SLEEP WITH ANY MORE BARMAIDS!”

By the epilogue session, Jack and Rapunzel are dating. Merida and Moana are also dating. Hiccup and Anna STILL haven’t figured out why they’re so prone to spending half the session flirting when Anna’s love interest shows up, and Hiccup STILL hasn’t figured out why he likes to have Anna’s love interest show up so often. Bless their souls. Maybe they’ll figure it out next campaign...?

Damn I actually really like this...maybe if people like it I’ll do some incorrect quotes or a drabble or something??? Or maybe some HCs from next campaign???

[twilightprince101]

It’s been a while since I’ve drawn, much less created a new OC! But recently I’ve succumbed to Bugsnax brainrot, so introducing Brandy Brittleshoot!

Brandy is a freelance writer and editor, working on several different projects at once before coming to Snaktooth Island. Alongside decently good hearing he has an intense curiosity for the world, often experimenting with different Snakified limbs to get inspiration for his latest story! (Just be prepared if you ask them about it, you’ll be stuck there ‘till nightfall).

I also filled out an interview prompt of him under the cut from @cosmicheartz , so check that out if you’re interested and feel free to shoot any asks about them! I’d love to talk a bit more about my newest character!

Who are you?

I’m Brandy Brittleshoot, I’m a freelance writer! Editing articles, typing out scripts, writing for dating sims, I’ve done a lot!

( How long have you been writing for? )

How long? Hehe, honestly I can’t even remember. One of my earliest memories was me writing an alternate ending to a book that had a crummy finale. I was so upset and whined so loud at a last minute plot twist that my dad sat me down in front of a notebook with a pencil so he could focus on his work. Though, I don’t think he expected me to actually write something decent! Never underestimate the power of an upset fan!!

( Anything in particular you’re writing now? )

Oh a handful of things! I have like, a million story ideas sitting on the backburn, but right now? I’m outlining a story idea I got for my latest novel! The details are a little hazy right now, but it’s all about an island of shapeshifters who can change into whatever they want. But of course, in a world like that there’d be lots of chaos if there were just like, a bunch of dragons flying around everywhere (who wouldn’t want to be a dragon) so there’s the government trying to limit it somewhat and there’s this one girl who-! Oh, grump! Sorry, um, still working on that.

Why come to Snacktooth island?

Oh Lizbert’s to thank for that! A while back I helped with putting out her story about Grumplantis! She saw a bit of the work I was doing at the time and, for some reason, decided I should help her out! Still have no idea why she chose me to help edit especially considering I was writing Grumpus Croft fan fiction at the time, but to think I’d get to help publish official findings about a lost civilization!!! I didn’t even care about the money, just the thought of working together with an explorer like that is just-!

( *Ahem…* But, what about Snacktooth? )

Oh right, that! Well, long story short she thought the work I did was good and invited me to come along as a way to say thanks since she didn’t exactly have the funds to pay for my work. Obviously I couldn’t pass up an opportunity that big, getting firsthand experience with an actual adventurer! So I dropped what I was doing, packed up and came right along with her!

Thoughts on bugsnax?

Duuude, okay. So imagine me, a writer who absolutely loves fantasy, lands on this island and finds out that fantasy actually exists! And is edible!!! I get to know what fantasy tastes like!!! This whole island is walking through one big fantasy novel and I have gotten nothing but inspiration since I’ve gotten here, it’s amazing!

( What does fantasy taste like? )

Okay, it’s like--actually, hang on, it would be faster if I just read this excerpt I wrote down a bit ago instead of trying to explain. *ahem.* ‘Upon the first bite of the plump and crispy Bunger, a dazzling fireworks show of flavor cascades into my mouth and paints a nova onto my taste buds. Each crunch a new explosion, a new flavor, a new color streaming across the sky’s canvas and dazzling me like a nova-’ oop, put nova twice there… ‘-Dazzling me like a child’s first glimpse at the night sky’s expanse! A symphony of crackles for me to experience alone, and by the time the last stream of light fizzled out, I’m ready to light the fuse for an encore.’ And that was just for the Bungers!

Why did you leave town?

Hoooh boy okay, bit of a loaded question there… After Lizbert and Batternugget vanished I tried to keep calm and keep doing what I was doing, wait for them to get back. But as the Bugsnax ran out and people got hungry, it was a bit hard to keep doing that… especially with all the noise...

( You’re referring to the fight? )

More or less yeah. I could hear pretty much everything from inside my cabin: Everyone ganging up against Cromdo, Chandlo calming down Snorpy from a panic attack, Filbo doing his best to keep everything together (can’t blame the guy for trying). Good hearing is both a blessing and a curse I guess… but the worst no doubt was Wiggle.

( What was up with Wiggle? )

Well, I do like her music, don’t get me wrong. But since coming to the island I can’t exactly handle being in the same room with her. She tried getting me to write her some song lyrics for exposure, kept peeking at my writing notes to steal my ideas, and worst of all, she stress yodels. And around the time the two vanished, she certainly had a lot of time to practice. I already couldn’t handle the fighting, but her singing was the last straw, so I slipped out in the middle of the night before I had to hear another note. Erm... you don't think she'll sue me for defamation if you put this in your story, will she?

Any info on Lizbert?

Duuude, Lizbert is no doubt the coolest person I know--probably ever! It’s like she jumped right out of an action movie and I could actually talk with her! She was really nice, telling me about a lot of her previous adventures in her free time and supporting me when I was going through writer’s block. Of course, she wasn’t around too much when she was out hunting snax, but Doctor Batternugget was around!

( Did you and Doctor B.N. get along? )

Yeah Miss Nugget was really nice! She was usually quiet when Lizbert wasn’t around, but after keeping her company one day and helping her sort supplies we got to talk a lot. She even volunteered to read some of my story drafts in her downtime--without me asking first too!! Plus, she also was a good resource to go to when I was writing about… more graphic details regarding Grumpus anatomy. I know a lot of people say that they might not come back, but I know they’re out there somewhere I know it! I mean come on, an adventurous explorer and her nurse girlfriend? That just SCREAMS main character plot armor! Plus, it would seriously suck if I finally find people eager to read my work on their own, then they just vanish from my life altogether… Please be okay Miss Batternugget…

Tape’s almost dry Brandy, gotta wrap this up soon!

Oh thanks for the interview! First one I’ve ever gotten, certainly a learning experience! (Maybe I could make a story entirely using interviews, that could be cool). I’m just sorry for talking your ear off. Hey, I know you’re kind of a solo worker from watching you run around, but if you’d like I can try and help with editing this story when you head back to the mainland. Free of charge too, I know you guys at GNN aren’t exactly treated the best. Not to mention it would look really good on both our resumes if we collaborated for this kinda story!

[otonymous]

How To Get Your Groove Back

Dearest Nonny,

I just wanted to start off by saying that I’m very sorry you’re in this difficult situation.  I wouldn’t call what I’m about to discuss “advice” per se, because everyone’s personal experiences are different and what worked for me may not work for another.  That being said, please take what I say with a grain of salt — deconstruct it, take and use the things that vibe with you and toss the ones that don’t.

(Posting the rest of this under a cut.  For those who aren’t in the mood for IRL musings, please feel free to skip this 🤣):

I feel you, dear Nonny, I really do.  I also went through a similar experience and it took a lot of honest introspection on my part to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t at a place where I wanted to be.  

I think a lot of times, people in general struggle with expectations.  You mentioned that you majored in something you didn’t enjoy.  Have you stopped to ask why that was the case?  I know it’s not uncommon for people to enter a field of study they have no interest in just because it was expected of them (either explicitly or perceived) — whether it’s by family members or other authority figures, or maybe even friends and society at large.  Oftentimes, their intentions are good: certain fields are perceived as being more financially secure than others.  Maybe they thought it was a good fit for someone like you.

“You may not love your job, but hey, who does?  The most important thing is that it’s stable and pays the bills.”

Don’t get me wrong, financial stability is definitely important.  As per Maslow’s hierarchy of needs in the study of psychology, you cannot talk about self-actualization if your basic needs aren’t met.  You’ve got to make sure you have a safe home and food in the fridge before you can even think about painting that masterpiece, writing that novel or running that marathon.

(Maslow’s hierarchy of needs - accessed from Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maslow's_hierarchy_of_needs.  Please note that while this theory has its critics, the basic idea applies in this case)

That being said, imagine you land a job related to your field of study.  Really try to picture yourself working there for a number of years.  If you didn’t enjoy it in school, do you foresee that you’ll enjoy working in this environment, day in and day out for x years of your life?

I am of the belief that one cannot stay for long in a place (literally and figuratively) where they are unhappy without losing a part of themselves.  It makes for a soul-crushing experience, and life is too short to spend it being miserable.  You owe it to yourself to seek your own happiness.  And while others can aid us in this journey, it is ultimately yours to make.

On a related note, I also feel that the concept of job security as earlier generations may have understood it no longer exists.  One rarely talks about loyalty between employers and employees these days, and occupations that were once considered sure bets in terms finding employment are no longer panning out.  Keep in mind that when I talk about employment, I mean jobs that actually offer fair and liveable wages.  So while this may not apply to you at the moment, dear Nonny, keep this in mind when you eventually land a job.  Not to be a downer or anything, but nothing is for certain except for the fact that YOU’VE got your own back, so look to your own two hands to make that magic happen.

Because happiness is a type of magic in and of itself, isn’t it?  And if you already know what brings you joy, half the battle is already won!  If you don’t, that’s cool too.  Just think about the hobbies you have now, or look to the things you enjoyed doing as a kid.  Which topics could you literally spend hours upon hours reading or talking about?  Do a deep dive and really brainstorm these things.  As per Marie Kondo, what really sparks joy in your life, and can you find a way to make a career out of it?

Now I’ll tell you something about myself as an example, dear Nonny.  I love to write.  I always have, for as long as I can remember.  The moment I could properly wield that pencil, I was making up stories to accompany messy Crayola drawings.  

Writing also opened doors for me.  Teachers took notice; I was placed in specialized programs and had my work published.  I took a single English course as a student in university as a breadth requirement and was awarded a scholarship from the department.  The last comment I received from my TA was an expression of his hope that I would consider pursuing a career in literature.

In spite of all this, I chose to pursue a career in something entirely unrelated because of the reasons listed above, opting to go for something safe in terms of job security rather than something I was passionate about.  And then the writing stopped.  Because it is incredibly difficult to find the time and energy to devote to the things you love when you are emotionally drained by your work.

I firmly believe that life is a journey and not a destination.  It adds unnecessary stress to think that one only gets one shot at a career when in reality, many people make several career changes throughout their lives.  Where you are now doesn’t have to be the end.  And while the profession I chose (and spent a long time working towards) didn’t turn out to be a good fit for me, it wasn’t a complete loss as it taught me about what I did and did not enjoy.

And dear Nonny, you’ll just have to take my word for it when I tell you that when you are focused on doing something you love, you will never, ever, feel like an imposter.

So to recap:

Secure your finances first and foremost.  Make sure you’ve got the funds to keep yourself (and any dependents, if applicable) afloat and comfortable when you decide to make the jump for your dream career.  This might mean that you’ll have to stick with a job that is less than ideal for a while to secure your nest egg, so to speak, or you might have to spend your downtime developing your second (desired) career until it’s stable enough for you to make the transition completely

If you’ve got the choice, my dear, please ensure that the management you’ll be working under is taking the proper steps to secure the safety of their employees during this pandemic

If you can’t readily point to the things/pastimes you enjoy, make the effort to rediscover yourself.  Once you find what sparks joy, HUSTLE and make it work for you.  You’d be surprised by the way people can monetize their hobbies these days 😉

Above all else, dear Nonny, please know that you deserve to be happy, and that you have the power and capability to make it happen.  So go forth and live the life you want to live.

Wishing you the best of luck! - XOXO, Otonymous 💖💖

[927roses-and-stuff]

Miracles in Gotham Chapter 5: Tales of the Misguided Serpent

I really am sorry it's taking more than five chapters for them to actually get to Gotham, by the way. I know most fics will usually have them there by the first chapter. I just like having a lot of build up for the plot and future subplots, so please bear with me!TW: Explicit minor character death and violence in war. Mentions of PTSD, depression, anxiety, and self-harm. 

Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading this story and (hopefully) enjoying it so far! I realize I don’t say it enough, but I truly appreciate everyone who took the time to read this fic, and knowing that there are people who enjoy it are part of my inspiration to write more. As always, an extra thank you to @ozmav for the AU, and @mystery-5-5 for helping me through the writing process (and dealing with my rants).

There will be mentions and allusions to real life events and locations associated with World War II. I don’t mean any disrespect, and any character mentioned and associated within the story is purely fictional. This is not meant to be an accurate depiction of WWII or war in general, nor is it meant to be a mockery of what actually happened. There will also be brief mentions of PTSD, depression, and anxiety symptoms and self-harm. These are all based on research from sources that my therapist has given me (i.e. Centre for Clinical Interventions) and my own personal experiences. 

Lastly, Alfred is in his mid-teens here (because he would fake his age to get into the army) and he isn’t the all wise and knowing Alfred Pennyworth we know and love just yet. And we all know how Master Fu loves giving Miraculous to unqualified, unprepared owners XD. 

P.S. Not me making Sass oblivious to human stuff because I don’t know a lot of war stuff. 

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: : @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn

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“Tell me everything you know about this Alfred Pennyworth and your time with him, Sass. I need to know if he can help before considering everything.” 

The snake kwami merely nodded. “Of course, my Guardian.”

“Alfred Pennyworth was one of the best snakelets I have ever known, even if in the end, he did not believe so. If given the time, perhaps, he could have mastered the Snake Miraculous in all of its power, despite his young age. I think he would’ve been only a year or two older than yourself...” 

August 1943, Northwest Europe

“Alfred Pennyworth, I am Sass, kwami of the Snake Miraculous, of Intuition. I will grant you the powers of Second Chance, so long as you promise to use your powers for good.” 

The snake kwami held out his hands gracefully as he finished introducing himself to his new owner. The current Guardian had told him of his duties before he was handed to the young man in front of  him. In times of war, a little intuition could go a long way. 

As Alfred continued to remain unresponsive, Sass began to worry. Alfred Pennyworth was a young man with sharp eyebrows and dark, piercing eyes dressed in a camouflage dark-green military uniform complete with the green beret covering his scalp . Sass noticed the tiny tremors of his shoulders and his tightly pressed lips,  although it would be unnoticeable to the untrained eye. They were in a dimly lit room, although it was strangely quiet for times of war, as the Guardian had relayed to him. 

It had been perhaps the strangest experience that Sass had encountered with a human, although he didn’t have that many to rely on. The young man continued to stare at Sass, and in all his infinite patience, Sass floated in place, and entered a meditative pose above the box he had just come out of.  From the little he knew of humans, they were often slow, narrow-minded creatures who needed more patience than most kwamis were willing to give. 

However, despite the strangeness of it all, Sass felt a warm kinship with the still man in front of him. 

Sass was unsure of how long it had taken for Alfred to be shaken out of his stupor, but he soon closed the box carefully and addressed him. 

“Hello. You’re the friend Mr. Fu told me of?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Yesss,” Sass nodded. “Master Fu is the current Guardian of the Miraculous. You must be someone special for him to entrust you with me, and me with you.” 

Alfred nodded slightly. “Yes, he mentioned that you would help me in my times of need.” 

“That is correct.” 

Sass watched as the young man bit his lip in thought and lightly traced over the marks on the box. “Sass, was it?” 

“Yesss.” 

“...I am Alfred Pennyworth.” 

“I am aware.” 

He looked up from the box and lightly cupped Sass in his hands. Alfred’s eyes squinted at him, his eyes roaming over his tiny form suspiciously. Sass stayed still for him, not feeling uncomfortable at the human’s scrutiny. Humans were suspicious of the unknown, Sass decided. They were wary even when there was evidence to say otherwise. 

When Alfred seemed satisfied, he spoke again. “Why would Mr. Fu give me a tiny snake?” 

Sass frowned. “I may be tiny, human, but I am powerful. With the bracelet you hold in that box, you will be able to turn back time for an unlimited amount of times within an allotted 5 minutes after the first reset. With my help, you are able to directly change events around you as they happen, for as much as you wish.” 

The young man’s eyes widened and gulped; Sass was unable to determine if it was out of terror or fascination. 

“Why would he entrust me with such a power?” 

“The Guardian’s mind works in mysterious ways. Perhaps, he wanted to give you a chance to see in yourself, what he saw in you.” 

His breath hitched, and he gulped again. “And what if I don’t like what I see?” 

Sass floated upwards to meet Alfred’s eyes. Yellow eyes met dark brown as he spoke. “That will all depend on you.” 

For the next few months, Sass watched as Alfred Pennyworth trained with his fellow soldiers as part of the Achnacarry in Scotland and eventually recruited to the No. 47 (Royal Marine) Commando based in Dorchester once the new year came. It had been the longest that Sass had interacted with any of his holders. He took to hiding in the pockets of Alfred’s uniform, although he often wished he had another place to hide when Alfred and the other humans were training with ringing, deafening gunshots,  the thundering footsteps of a hundred men caused tremors within the soil, and the hoarse shouts and screams of soldiers in a stimulated battlefield. When the soldiers were off-duty, Sass liked the chatter as Alfred and the others conversed with one another, their different tones whether morose or jovial, since it helped him drift off to sleep in Alfred’s warm pocket. 

In what little downtime that they had, Alfred liked to ask Sass questions about the Miraculous, what they did, their purpose in the world, the limits of his own Miraculous, and always, why he was chosen to bear such a great responsibility. Sass always told him what he could (although being inactive for so long left him little knowledge of other holders), and always repeated what he had told Alfred the first day they met. Sass liked being with Alfred. He was intelligent, curious, logical, and sensitive to information. Despite the grim circumstances that surrounded their partnership, he was glad that Master Fu had chosen Alfred Pennyworth.

It had been nearly a year since Sass and Alfred met when the No. 47 Commando received their first operation on June 6, 1944. Alfred often told him stories at night of his family, his home, and his surroundings. The night before as they were preparing for battle, Alfred had shared his worries with his fellow soldiers and Sass. It would be the first time they would be in a real battle, outside of Achnacarry or Dorchester. As the Commando arrived at the battlefield the day after, all the soldiers were crammed onto a ship. It had only taken a few hours to arrive at the outskirts of where they needed to be. Only a few miles from the shore, and already the sounds of battle rang throughout the ships, and the soldiers prepared to join in. Some would join as soon as the ship hit shore while others would stay behind to make sure that their ship didn’t sink and attack the opposing army from the water. Alfred was one of the soldiers that would be fighting the moment they hit shore, so he made sure to find an empty space to transform. Sass found himself and Alfred cramped near the ship’s engine, where Alfred was already fiddling with the Snake Miraculous. 

“I won’t look like a circus act when I transform, will I, Sass?” 

Sass shook his head. “No. Make sure to imagine yourself as you are, and the Miraculous will conform to your desires. You might find that your clothes will feel scaly as a side effect. Either way, your clothes will protect you from most impacts, although I’m not sure about bullets.” 

Alfred smiled. “I see. Will I be able to talk to you when I’m transformed?” 

“No.”  Alfred’s eyes widened. “Fear not. I will still be with you, as a part of you, but we will not be able to interact as we are now nor will I be conscious when you are transformed.”

Alfred took a shaky breath. “Alright. Thank you, Sass. Anything else I need to know?” 

“Use it wisely. Seeing that many possibilities will take a toll on you. You will most likely witness one moment in time in different ways. Others may not remember the other timelines, but you will. Do not forget that.” 

Alfred gave a curt nod. “This is it, then?” 

“Yessss, I wish you luck, Alfred.” 

“As do I,” he chuckled. “Sass, scales slither.” 

As Alfred called out the last words, Sass faded into unconsciousness. He had faith in Alfred, and hoped he would work well with the Snake. 

______________________________________________________________________________

When Alfred de-transformed, Sass noticed the light in his eyes and the way he clutched tightly onto two soldiers a few years older than him. The battle was over for now, Sass mused, so Alfred must be relieved that he was safe and alive. Later in the safety of his barrack, Alfred recounted the battle in hushed whispers, how many times he went back to save just one more life (“To think, who might’ve remained dead if you were not with me,” he said, rubbing Sass’ head affectionately with his finger), or to take one more shot he missed the first time. Sass asked him the precise number of times that he went back in time during those allotted 5 minutes that he had used “Second Chance.” Sass asked him who he had saved, how, and whose lives were lost in return. Alfred answers both questions enthusiastically with a significant amount of detail, that Sass allowed himself to feel content. Alfred had saved lives, had done his part for his country.

Sass was proud of his snakelet. 

As time went on, battles were waged and the war raged on all over Europe. Sass didn’t understand human battles, but he made sure to stay by Alfred’s side for all of it. 

It was about half a year in that Sass noticed the changes that Alfred is going through. Like every soldier, he is marred with scars, had a more gaunt, more sickly frame that came from eating smaller rations and sleeping less, and dark circles under his eyes that emphasized how haunted he was. Yet, Sass noticed that Alfred was overextending himself. In every offense, Alfred volunteered to be in the frontlines. In every battle, he took the time to transform, which meant Sass was also often exhausted after every battle and struggled to eat the already miniscule portions Alfred spared from his rations. After every battle, Alfred was jumpy, going from soldier to soldier and striking up conversation whenever he could, visiting the infirmary and muttering apologies to the wounded soldiers. It took Sass a while to realize that the former had been people he had saved, and the latter were the people that he couldn’t or those that he almost hadn’t.

Nights were always the worst. In the daytime with the rush and hustle of war battles, there was not a lot of time for Alfred to do anything but act and fight, especially when he transformed with Sass. But at night, when there was a semblance of silence in his own corner of the barracks, Sass comforted Alfred through the tears, the nightmares, the bloodshed, and other horrors he witnessed. When Sass couldn’t comfort him, Alfred retreated to the arms of Leo Dupain, a soldier a few years older who knew of Alfred’s real age, and the person who Alfred recounted saving the most during his resets. He had sandy brown hair, olive green eyes, a square-like jaw with a hooked nose that looked like it had been broken at least once. Sass listened to their hushed promises of returning to the motherland and settling down somewhere in the countryside far away from the influences of war and its politics. Sass watched as both Alfred and Leo drifted to sleep, holding each other like they were each other’s only anchor to the physical realm. Sass watched as Alfred woke a half hour before the crack of dawn to visit the infirmary before beginning his training, never looking back. Each time, Sass noticed that Leo searched for warmth that had previously been there.

Sass knew that witnessing all of Time’s possibilities was a heavy burden for anyone, much less a child. Alfred related to him about comrades who had died from gunshots, from being trampled on, or thrown overboard. If not them, it was the patients in the infirmary, the ones who had fallen trap to insanity or those who had lost a part of their physical bodies forever. Alfred was inconsolable. By December of 1944, Alfred had anxiety, insomnia, and an unhealthy attachment to the Snake Miraculous.

During that time, Sass tried to teach Alfred how to be more responsible with the Snake’s power, how to use each return more efficiently, and especially, how Alfred didn’t need to use the Miraculous for every injury that his comrades endured. Sass had relayed stories of other Miraculous heros: Heracles, Hippolyta, Joan of Arc, others unrecorded in history who had struggled to learn the same lesson: that Alfred was not a god and he couldn’t save everyone. 

But war was brutal and without mercy, especially to those with kind hearts.

Everything came to a head when Alfred failed to save Leo Dupain before he could reset. Sass was thrown onto the ground as the transformation wore off, gunshots blazing in the background as Alfred’s screams pierced his tiny ears. Sass slowly shuffled to Alfred’s side, and climbed into a nearby pocket.

“Leo, Leo!” Alfred cried, grabbing the heavy body of Leo Dupain, whose leg had been blown off by a nearby explosive. Blood spilled forth from the wound, and Leo breathed in shallow gasps, as his body became limp. Alfred was soon covered in his blood and from the dust and dirt around them. Frantically, he tried to find spare cloth but was futile in his efforts. Sass could feel the tremors from Alfred’s body as he held onto Leo Dupain like a lifeline. Other soldiers had heard his cries and clambered to them, grabbing Alfred forcefully out of Leo’s arms and into safety,

“He needs me! Stop! I need to save him!”

“Leg’s been blasted off, can’t do much for ‘im now but fight,” a soldier- Gabriel Ackles- muttered. He had been one of the soldiers Alfred saved a week earlier from a headshot.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Alfred ranted hysterically. “I was supposed to save him; he wasn’t supposed to get hurt. He’s going to die…”

SLAP

Alfred stood stunned as Gabriel stood before him, red-faced and fuming.

“We are in battle, soldier! Get it together! You wanna help Dupain, Pennyworth?!” Gabriel didn’t wait for an answer before shoving a long gun of sorts into Alred’s hands. “You go out there and drag every Nazi motherfucker to hell or die trying! You got it, soldier?!” 

Sass watched as Alfred’s eyes dimmed into a stormy grey and stared at the gun in his hands. A second passed and with trembling hands, Alfred was marching back onto the battlefield, gun ablaze. Sass tried hard as he could to use whatever remaining energy he had to protect Alfred, but the amount of resets during Alfred’s transformation had exhausted him and he fell unconscious to the sounds of war.

When Sass regained consciousness, it was to Master Fu’s face. A chill ran down his spine as he fluttered around frantically searching for Alfred. They were in an empty room that only had a few books, two futons and the Miracle Box. There were two double doors that separated their room from the outside world and another, smaller door that led to the rest of the building. 

Where were they? Why was he here? More importantly, where was Alfred?

“Do not bother, Sass,” Master Fu said in a tone more morose than he had ever heard. “Mr. Pennyworth has returned you to me. It has been several months since you were inactive.”

Sass deflated and floated down to the ground beneath him. “Where is he now, Master?”

“I am unsure.” Master Fu looked out of the large double doors. “I am afraid that I have placed too many expectations on young Alfred. When he helped us escape London, I had given you to him as a token of gratitude and friendship.”

“Master?”

Master Fu sighed and turned back to look at Sass with teary eyes. “I could not have foreseen that I had cursed more than blessed him, Sass. He had refused to give you back at first, and it was only yesterday, a month since I last saw him, that you had returned to us.”

Sass couldn’t speak. He had really liked Alfred Pennyworth. He was a good man- one of the best. But, even he couldn’t deny the madness he had endured during his time as one of his snakelets. If kwami had hearts, Sass knew it would be obliterated by the news.

“I see, Master,” was all Sass said before Master Fu renounced him and his Miraculous.

Present day

“And that was the last I heard of Alfred Pennyworth. The next time I appeared in this realm, it was to Luka Couffaine.”

Marinette wiped away a few tears that had sprung up during Sass’ story.

“Do you think he would have anything to do with the Miraculous after all he’d been through, Sass?”

Sass bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Perhaps. He had many questions I could not answer. I am not sure if his trauma overrode his curiosity. I know he had been planning on studying the Miraculous more before Leo Dupain had died.”

Marinette played with her hands as she mulled over Sass’ response. Something about his story caught her attention.

“Leo Dupain? As in my granduncle, Leo Dupain?” 

Sass blinked, yellow eyes trained on her. “Perhaps.” 

“If they're the same person, then he’s still around,” Marinette mused, thinking of the one-legged elder from her early childhood that made her laugh with his silly jokes and warm cuddles. “I never really kept up with him since my grandfather kept us away from Papa’s side of the family. He was funny, though.”

Marinette entered a silent trance, going over all the new information she had received so far, while the kwamis waited with bated breaths. Alfred Pennyworth had deeper ties with her than she had previously thought. In another world, he would’ve been another distant granduncle. However, would she risk going to him in this world when the Miraculous had already scarred him so deeply? But what if he didn’t know about her granduncle? What if he spurned her away despite that? What if he didn’t? What had Master Fu seen in Alfred Pennyworth that he had practically given away one of the Miraculous to his care? How would she explain everything that had happened since their last argument?

What other choices did Marinette really have?

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, the only kwami comfortable enough to break her train of thought.

She sighed, not liking her decision one bit, but she was desperate, and in some ways, this would be beneficial for both Alfred Pennyworth and her.

“Looks like we’re going to Gotham City.”

______________________________________________________________

I really am sorry it's taking more than five chapters for them to actually get to Gotham, by the way. I know most fics will usually have them there by the first chapter. I just like having a lot of build up for the plot and future subplots, so please bear with me!

[angeltrapz]

howdy 💙 chainshipping ask time: on days when they’re feelin bad, what do they do for the other person? also favorite date night activities? + th first moment post-bathroom where they each realized they’d fallen in love w th other?

hi!! 💜

ooh I think abt this a lot actually. I think th two of them have a tendency 2 bottle things up, so it kind of takes a lil bit fr them to realize tht Hey, Someone Wants To Make Sure I'm Okay and fr them 2 then get to a place where they share how they're rly doing rather than bein like "no everything's fine wdym :)" but once they Do get past tht n r able 2 be honest w each other, it's a lot better fr both of them + honestly its own form of healing.

a lot of th time when Adam's having a bad day, he's either nonverbal or responds w as short of an answer as possible, so th big thing Lawrence does fr him is just let him know he's there when/if he's ready 2 talk + there's no stress 2 tell him what's wrong right away. tht's smth tht's rly important to Adam, n smth he appreciates greatly. often times, along w tht, Adam tends 2 seek out physical contact - so like coming up behind Lawrence while he's cooking breakfast n wrapping his arms around him, holding his hand when they're walking together, sitting close enough so their knees/shoulders/hips brush + just leaning into Lawrence's side altogether, etc. so another thing they do is either cuddle up on th couch or in th bedroom n they watch a few movies together. sometimes Lawrence will read 2 him too. it's rly all abt proximity + lil actions tht in reality r a wordless way 2 say "I'm here, it's okay, we'll get thru this together." Lawrence is patient, doesn't rush him, n stays close by. fr Adam, tht is more than enough + means th world. n it eventually leads 2 him being more comfortable voicing how he feels more often!!

Lawrence's bad days r a lil harder to catch bc even tho he knows Adam's there, he still feels a pretty intense amount of guilt + doesn't often feel tht he has like. a right 2 complain? bc I think, fr a long time, he views himself as th one most responsible fr what happened in th bathroom n how they got there. it takes a while fr him to break out of tht mindset, but th main thing Adam reminds him of is he's still here. bc Lawrence spends a lot of time thinking like, "if I wasn't a bad person, Jigsaw wldn't have chosen me or put my family in danger, therefore it's my fault + I need 2 atone somehow." Adam is aware of this, n they've found tht th best solution is fr him 2 just b very blunt n ask "well was I a bad person? was I so horrible tht Jigsaw chose me based on tht n I deserved what happened next?" n of course Lawrence will immediately be like "no of course not??? nothing u cld've done cld warrant tht?" (kinda like th way u mentioned Adam comforts William) so Adam gets to respond w "tht applies 2 u too, u know. yr not a bad person. nothing you cld've done wld warrant smth like tht, either."

n Lawrence mentally bluescreens th first time he hears Adam say tht bc it's just like. He's Right. if he doesn't think Adam is a bad person + deserved wht happened, why did he? so tht's like th big thing Adam does fr Lawrence. he reassures him tht despite his brain's best efforts 2 convince him otherwise, he is a good person who Adam loves n tht might've made mistakes, but they didn't warrant being chained to a pipe in a fucking bathroom somewhere w his family in danger + being tasked 2 kill his now-bf, christ.

favourite date night activities!! I think they're mostly p lowkey fr th most part just bc of like, th unease of potentially being around A Lot Of Ppl, but every once in a while they'll dress up a lil bit n go somewhere nice fr dinner bc Lawrence is a hopeless romantic + he likes being able 2 do tht fr Adam sometimes. Adam thought it'd be like, wayyyy too stuffy + uncomfortable esp bc it's not smth he's used to, but honestly it's rly fun n they get to spend time together, so in th end it's all fine! plus there's never any pressure 2 like, go all out w dressing up or anything, so tht's nice too. honestly, if Adam wasn't so in love w Lawrence, th way he holds his hand over th table while they skim thru th menu + talk abt what sounds good might make him think he was somehow th main character of a romcom.

a lot of times, too, they frequent this local diner tht Adam used 2 go to fr breakfast all th time when he n Scott were teenagers bc it was relatively cheap, th food was good, + th staff was full of kind ppl. the lighting is lowkey n they usually have some sort of seasonal decorations around th place, n it's just somewhere Adam feels Safe, which of course leads 2 Lawrence feeling tht way abt it too. it's rly nice fr when they still want to go out, but don't rly want to put too much effort into it (tht's not to say th diner is low-quality tho!). they're there so often some of th servers know them by name + are friendly w them, so there's tht too!

their favourite, tho, is nights in where they order takeout or delivery so tht neither of them have 2 cook (Adam is getting better w it, tho Lawrence still cooks fr th majority of th time) n they can just relax. sometimes they lay a bunch of blankets on th floor n camp out there, sometimes they make a pillow fort bc why not, n sometimes they just grab their favourite blanket n curl up on th couch while watching random TV fr background noise or movies. Adam’s head always ends up on Lawrence’s shoulder at some point. Lawrence will have an arm around his shoulder. sometimes Adam will rest his legs across Lawrence’s lap. it’s just being close + enjoying some downtime tht they both rly appreciate.

as fr th first time they realized they were in love each other... in all honesty, fr Lawrence, it was pretty much th moment Adam finally woke up in th hospital n looked at him n said “you came back fr me.” (like yr text game Still Life is Exactly how I see it happening!!) however, th first time Lawrence rly became CONSCIOUS of tht feeling n was able 2 put a name to it was honestly so simple and yet so meaningful. it was Adam standing in his kitchen th morning after he’d spent th night bc he cldn’t get to sleep on his own, too worked up n on edge n afraid 2 be alone.

it’s Adam in only a faded n too-big t-shirt n boxers trying 2 figure out how to use Lawrence’s keurig. it’s th sunlight streaming in frm th window above th sink n framing Adam’s face n turning his eyes this bright honey-green when Lawrence catches them. he’s in th middle of washing the dishes bc he’d been meaning to since th night b4, watching as Adam moves around n learns th placement of everything, his presence so natural-feeling tht it’s hard fr Lawrence to even imagine tht he hasn’t always been there. and then Adam turns 2 look at him bc he can feel him staring, his hands curled around a mug of hot coffee, eyes still half-lidded w remnants of sleep n hair a wild unruly mess, and he smiles - tht is when Lawrence truly realizes tht he loves him. he cldn’t imagine his life w/ out Adam in it. he can hardly remember how it felt to live w/ out him. tht’s when he knows.

I think fr Adam, th moment he became truly aware of how much he loved Lawrence was actually during one of his bad days where he was stuck in th mental bathroom, unable get out of his own head fr much longer than a few minutes at a time. he had gone mostly nonverbal n found the energy needed 2 keep up a conversation was just not smth he had, but instead of Lawrence being irritated by tht fact, he was going out of his way 2 be like, “I know yr not doing well, n tht’s okay, if u want 2 talk to me I’m here but if u don’t I’ll still b here anyways.” n tht’s like smth tht’s so foreign to Adam, ppl being willing 2 understand his struggles w things like speech n eye contact if he’s distressed + who don’t try 2 force him to power thru it, so tht first time he’s just sitting there on th couch, leaning against Lawrence’s side w/ his legs tucked up underneath him n w his weighted blanket covering them both, watching Lawrence fill out th crossword in th daily newspaper n just kinda coasting tht line between being present n checking out, he’s just like. Huh. This Is Nice.

bc no one’s ever rly offered tht kind of accommodation 2 him? esp not his parents, which is part of wht I mentioned earlier abt his tendency to bottle things up. neither of them have 2 say anything; it’s just comfy, reassuring, sitting so close + sharing a space while maintaining a comfortable silence bc Adam doesn’t think he can explain yet. n he looks up at Lawrence’s face, tracing th heavy line of his furrowed brows as he concentrates hard abt whatever word it is he’s trying 2 figure out, th tip of his tongue peeking out btwn his lips as he squints, occasionally mouthing a word or two, n tht’s kind of when it hits him. it’s just kind of like an internal ah, I see. Lawrence doesn’t mind tht he’s like this. he doesn’t badger him fr answers or expect him 2 be th perfect image of good mental health n is perfectly content 2 just sit w/ him as he rides it out. tht’s when Adam really gets tht this is love.

tysm fr this ask I had so much fun w it <3

[jedimordsith]

You mentioned that you've come to have more empathy for Yoday but still wouldn't recommend him as a direct master for anyone. What were/are your biggest issues with him? There are several I could guess, and probably some I agree with, but I don't want to assume.

Ahahahaha. I’m in a ranty mood this week, so it’s a great time to tackle this ask! Here’s more than anyone ever wanted to know about my Yoda Feels. 

My problems with Yoda come down to a couple things. 

We have entirely different learning/teaching styles. 

I have zero tolerance for cryptic shavit when there’s *actual communication* that needs to happen. 

A lot of Yoda’s behaviors make sense when viewed in the context of the PT but I formed most of my opinions based on the OT before the PT was a Thing. 

I don’t agree with the approach Yoda took in swanning off to Dagobah post RotS. AT ALL. 

Different Learning/Teaching Styles

(In ESB) Yoda very much follows the Greek and Buddhist styles of teaching where masters ask questions that don’t necessarily have solid answers. This is a valid style and something @atamascolily consistently captures gorgeously in her fics. It also absolutely makes me want to stab people. 

I’m like Mara Jade: a task-oriented learner. I want to know what I’m supposed to learning/mastering, why, how I’ll demonstrate success, and what the checkpoints are along the way. Meandering philosophical debates as part of an ill-defined training process are maddening. As noted, as I get older I am more accepting of this as a legit style and just not for me; this makes Yoda more sympathetic as a character but not any less annoying. 

Also, when Luke asks honest and reasonable questions in ESB (like “why”) Yoda shuts him down flat and I’m extremely not okay with that. Luke is being genuine and respectful despite his own frustrations and as someone who is committing his life to the Jedi path he has both a right and a need to know things. Demanding blind faith when there are or should be reasonable answers of some kind is Not Okay. 

Just Communicate Dammit!

With Ben Kenobi and Bail Organa gone, Yoda was the only person around holding a lot of key information. Did he share that information? Nope. He wandered around being a cryptic little troll “because Luke wasn’t ready” despite knowing full well that his health was failing. He gave Luke none of the information he actually needed to make informed decisions and didn’t even freaking write anything down!!  

From a Doylist perspective, this is obviously largely because George Lucas et al hadn’t figured out any of the backstory yet. From a Watsonian perspective, this is unforgivable. 

If your time is short (as his time with Luke was destined to be no matter how things went), it is critically important to be clear and use your time well. Yoda just didn’t. 

Obnoxious Troll vs Grandpa Frog

The PT very much sets Yoda up as Grandpa Frog, a beloved grandfather figure who teaches the younglings regularly and who everyone understands as mischievous but loving. Viewed in that sense, a lot of how he treats Luke in ESB makes sense… but it doesn’t make it okay. 

The younglings at the Temple literally grew up around the Force and Yoda. Luke did not. Luke didn’t even know WTF the Force was until he was almost 20. He got like 24 hours of introduction to it before Ben died. Compliments of Palpatine and the Purge and the war, there is almost no information available to him between ANH and ESB except what he figures out himself. Yet Yoda treats him like a disappointment and a failure for not understanding the scope of the Force and having doubts about its power. 

Guess what? If Luke had grown up in the Temple, yeah, he’d be all about raising X-wings out of swamps. But he didn’t. He grew on repressed for his own safety on a farm in the middle of nowhere without a hint of a clue. 

Now, through the lens of the PT, I can see Luke being a frustrating student for Yoda. He’s used to getting younglings who have been exposed to and trained in the Force by a range of other Jedi. Starting with an older student suffering from a ton of trauma and without any of the basics that he has to train in less than a fraction of the time shaping a Jedi would normally take is a massive undertaking and he’s old and tired besides. The whole family history with Vader wouldn’t make it any easier. 

But you know what? Luke is young. He left his found family in the middle of a war and is undergoing hugely stressful training in the middle of a swamp so that he can shoulder even bigger burdens. Yoda has had 20 years of (mostly) downtime to deal with his own trauma and at least several hundred years of practice being a teacher and a leader. He’s the one in a position to improve things and accommodate and he doesn’t. I’m not okay with that. 

Let’s Talk About That Downtime BTW

Again, from a Doylist perspective, I get why Yoda was hanging out on Dagobah, why he used things like visions to communicate with people like Kanan, Ezra, etc. periodically, and why he was Luke’s mentor in ESB/RotJ. 

From a Watsonian view, though, I’m not freaking impressed. He was the Grandmaster. He was heartbroken over the Jedi and Padawans he couldn’t save. But what did he do for the remaining ones spread across the galaxy? Shavit, that’s what. Kanan, Cal Kestis, Feris Olan, all the Jedi/Padawans who got kidnapped and twisted into Inquisitors — they were on their freaking own while Yoda swanned off to Dagobah. 

Oh, sure, he’d pop up in a vision here or there or whatever, but he had a safe place. And, apparently, the ability to reach at least some of them some of the time (see: visions and his connections to people like Bail Organa). Do I think any of those people probably wanted to live on Dagobah? Not particularly. But I think they’d have appreciated the safety and the chance to reconnect with what remained of their Jedi family, even if only briefly. 

But no. Yoda hangs out, waiting for the day the twins are old enough to take on the responsibility to kill Vader/Palpatine and then… does nothing?! He just keeps hanging out even after both Luke and Leia have lost everything, lets them get all settled into the Rebellion without a word, and THEN has the nerve to be cranky and disgruntled when he actually does get one of them to train!! 

YOU MADE CHOICES YOU LITTLE FROG TROLL. DON’T TAKE THEM OUT ON THE PEOPLE YOU DENIED CHOICES FOR 20 YEARS. 

I’m Not Entirely Without Compassion, I Swear

*sigh* I have seen a lot of Yoda meta in recent years that makes me appreciate Yoda for what he was during the PT. He really *was* everybody’s loving Grandpa who worked for centuries to love on the Jedi, protect them, and take care of them well. He legit wanted all of them to be happy and safe… and his suffering when the Purge happened must have been unimaginable. Like Luke and Leia, he lost everything. 

Unlike the twins, he didn’t get to rebuild or find a new family. While I believe what we have in the EU suggests he found peace and solace and a new home of Dagobah that was genuinely soothing to his wounded soul, he was alone and (whether he was or not) he did feel mostly helpless to do anything for his few scattered Jedi grandchildren who remained and suffered across the galaxy. He did face decisions in which there *weren’t* good, clear-cut answers. 

I think if I’d met him first in the PT or meta I might have liked him better. But I still wouldn’t ever recc him as a Master for any character I like because I can’t imagine learning under him being an experience I would ever wish on anyone simply based on my own vehement loathing for his personal teaching style. I know there are people in the world who would thrive on that approach and I like to think I’ve got a good imagination, but I simply can’t conceptualize it as a positive, productive experience. 

*As an end note, if you DO like Yoda or want to like him better please go read @atamascolily‘s fics, seriously. You’ll love them!

[ms-maj]

For @bettycooper​ on the most fantastic day of her birth! [I maaaaay have been given a slight heads up since someone wouldn’t give up the goat ;)] Thank you for all the brilliant insights and beautiful gifs and for being one of the most considerate and chill people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. You give and give and give and I am very, very lucky to call you friend. Happiest birthday, Cat! I hope you enjoy! <3

‘Tis All Hallows Eve and throughout this great house

Dark creatures are stirring, go and hide little mouse.

Bats line the hallway, there’s cobwebs on the stair;

The veil is now lifting, the other side is just there.

Reach out and touch it, magic flows from your hands,

Fingers burn with the powers passed by time, through the sands. 

Make notes in your grimoire as witches fly through the sky

We must ready our spirit, for Halloween is nigh…

“Isn’t your cousin in Prague?”

Betty looks up from her computer, the glasses she only wears when she’s been staring at the screen for an extended time sit on the edge of her nose. “What? Cousin?”

He’s waving the square of black cardstock in her direction as he shakes his head. “Your one, single cousin. The slightly over-the-top, heiress extraordinaire who has spent the last five years gallivanting across the globe.”

“And what about her?”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jughead drops next to her on the couch. Reaching over, he kisses her cheek before slotting the paper between her and the screen. “It would appear Hill House is done.”

Betty can’t help the snort that escapes her as she runs her fingers around the aged edge of the parchment. “I should say I’m surprised but, honestly, I mean, it’s Cheryl. Why wouldn’t she hand-write invitations to a soiree on the...’Hallowed Blossom Grounds’?”

Jughead is not wrong per se when he says the house is done. Thornhill has been under construction since Cheryl and Toni broke up, and she absconded from her second year of college. She made her way to Italy, where she stayed for a year before delving deeper into Europe; the art, the fashion, the architecture all appealed to her at a cellular level. Or that’s what she’d told Betty when asked about when she’d come home. (When the manor is restored or that vile harpy dies. Her words.) 

He leans over and takes the invite back from her hands to re-read it. “Like either house there isn’t large enough to have this shindig, she has to be sure we plebs all know it’s the entirety of the property that we shall be partying on.” 

Betty slides her glasses up to the bridge of her nose as she watches her boyfriend’s eyes roll. He leans back against the cushions, the hem of his t-shirt inching up ever so slightly. “At least we have an excuse to get dressed up this year,” she closes her laptop, sets it on the table and straddles him before he has a moment to realize what’s happening.

 “And we can finally scratch the main house off our list—”  The invitation flies from his fingertips and lands in the middle of the coffee table as his hands come down around her ass. He stands, wobbly as she laughs against his lips, and she’s carried to their bedroom. The costumes can wait another day.

Keep reading below or head on over to AO3

Betty’s proud, and a little relieved, when he comes back with the Addams. Though he refuses to wear pinstripes, much to her chagrin, she's quick to realize that plum, crushed velvet looks better on him than it has any right to. 

Unfortunately, there hasn't been time to confer on much else. It’s been a busy few weeks. Betty’s been working non-stop; crime doesn’t stop for Halloween parties apparently, and her particular skill set always seems to be more needed in the periods just before and just after Halloween. She’s spent hours recently in front of both screen and microscope, scraping particulates into vials rather than getting ready for the ostentatious event.

And as much as Jughead has bitched and moaned about the lack of foresight in sending a group of traumatized twenty-somethings invitations in the same manner as a psychopath, he’s channeled a lot of that anxious downtime between conventions into ensuring his Gomez is true and pays proper homage to both John Astin and Raul Julia. 

It makes for an incessant fluttering in her chest whenever she thinks of him. She finds it funny, the way he insists that it’s their friends who are the extra ones, but as they finally turn toward the mansion she sees the seventeen-year-old boy in him, the one who almost lost himself as the Game Master, and the beautiful, complex, eccentric man he’s become. 

“I think that’s Archie’s car,” Jughead pulls their small SUV next to the blue sedan. The governor’s drive is filled, cars of all makes and models line both sides of the freshly poured asphalt. “At least we won’t be alone in the cesspool Cheryl considers a social circle.”

Betty takes one last look in the mirror before tossing strands of her silky, black wig over her shoulder and exiting the car. “And it's a beautiful night.”

Jughead hums in response and then, “This place gives me the heebs,” shuddering as the car doors click closed, the lock tone sounding terribly loud in the eerie stillness. 

“You and me both,” Betty adjusts the hem of her billowing sleeve, the sleek black dress not giving her much room to breathe, let alone walk the entirety of the Blossom estate. She squares her shoulders, channeling the power and grandeur of befitting Morticia and slides her hand into that of her waiting boyfriend. 

The foyer’s black marble floors gleam, shadows dancing in the flickering candlelight. The tables, four round with two on either side of the room and a long six-foot buffet table between them, are dressed in crisp white linens, centerpieces of crimson and black, and not a soul in sight.

“Hello?” Betty calls into the void. She’s answered only by the reverberation of her own voice. She looks to Jughead, sweeping the black strands of her wig from her face, she moves toward the tables. The two tables on her right are full of cut crystal flutes filled to the brim with golden champagne, the left is full of hors d'oeuvres, and sat perfectly center of the large table is a silver tray. On it, a parchment envelope with a red wax seal.

“Jesus,” Jughead exhales while retying the belt of his costume. “I knew Cheryl had a penchant for the dramatic but even this seems a little extreme.” Suddenly looking a little green around the gills, he swallows before speaking again. “Her mom isn’t…”

Betty turns around quickly and lays her palm against his cheek. “No, it’s not Penelope. I talked to Cheryl yesterday and she’s assured me that the bitch is still under lock and key."

"Good, she can rot."

"Should we just—” she twists back, reaching for the envelope but Jughead swats her hand away before it makes contact.

" Really? You're just gonna grab that, no glove, no napkin, just bare-handed in the home of a known poisoner?" He questions, eyes wide, hands grabbing at her waist and twirling her away from the table. “You’re an actual crime scene investigator, Betty. What are you doing?!”

“Jug, Juggie, I’m gonna need you to breathe,” she frames his face in her hands, tilting his head so his eyes met hers. Under the chandelier, his hair reflects the incandescent glow in it’s slicked parting. “It’s just Cheryl being Cheryl. It’s just a party,” her fingers curl and slide down his face, thumbs stopping on his chin. “I think she’s trying to reclaim this place for happier times and this is part of it. Make the bad good or something. I don’t actually know but I know she is in therapy and I guess this is just her convoluted way of working past the demons and ghosts.”

His head drops to the side, expression nonplussed, and he sighs. “Just, use a napkin, or something. I can’t help that my paranoia is bound to run rampant when things like Blossom and Gothic Horror Hellhouse are dropped back into the vernacular.”

Her heart breaks just a little as she wraps her arms around his neck. “I promise I will be more careful as we go along. I don’t know what Cheryl has in store but I imagine this is how she’s making use of the grounds.” 

His hands haven’t moved from her waist, he simply tightens his grip and pulls her closer. “I’ll try to keep an open mind, and remember that this is actually for fun and not a ploy to murder us and our closest friends.”

“Atta boy,” Betty closes the gap between them, pressing her lips against his reassuringly. “Now, let’s get this party started.” She waggles her eyebrows excitedly, tossing the long black locks of her wig over her shoulder as she turns back toward the table. Jughead slouches behind her, his head resting on her shoulder, as her napkin covered hand reaches the envelope. 

Sliding it back across the table cloth, Betty snags a knife from the appetizer table and slips it under the crimson seal. 

Carefully, Betty uses the napkin to remove the parchment from the envelope and lays it out on the table. Jughead slides off her, moving closer to the table without actually touching anything. 

His eyes squint as he tries to read the intricate script from so far away. “I can pick it up if you—”

“Because I’m sure you brought your glasses to the Halloween party?” 

“Oh, my dearest, Gomez, where on Earth would I conceal glasses in this dress?”  

She hears him suck in a breath and feels it, hot, on the shell of her ear.  “Are we ticking this off the list first? We are all alone, Tish, you can be as loud as you want.”

Betty can feel the knock in her knees, the way her chest heaves at his tone and heat of his words. Her breath leaves in pants, short bursts of unadulterated lust she swallows down and tamps out. “You are incorrigible, Jones,” her voice drops to an even quieter tone. “And if I thought Cheryl and any of her other guests who’ve already completed their quests weren’t possibly watching, I would absolutely take you up on that.”

“Fair point,” Jughead sighs, straightening up and turning his attention back to the task at hand. As his eyes scan the words his hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Did she write these? Or did she actually pay someone? Because if she did, as a professional writer I am offended.”

Betty snorts a laugh and reads the text herself. “Oh Juggie, you are not wrong.”

Fortunately, Betty doesn’t think it’ll be too long before they get themselves through Cheryl’s finely woven tapestry of what she deems fun.

Welcome fiends, on this most holy of days

You’ve entered the first chamber and now you must play.

From this greatest hall to the haunted gallows

The path you take shall leave you hallowed

Once, full oak barrels lined its walls

But it’s been an age since the empire did fall

It has been told of spirits who wander

But you must come closer to set them asunder. 

“I can’t believe this,” Jughead flicks at the padlock that’s keeping the man door closed, and them from their next set of instructions. 

Betty rolls her eyes, reaching up under her hair in the back and pulling out an extra bobby pin she had used to help secure the long wig. “What kind of party would it be if I couldn’t show off the fruits of my questionable morality?” 

She can barely see the pin as it disappears into the lock. The night is dark, cool, the crisp vein of fall’s majesty. The moon is full but the sky is overcast; clouds cover like sticky cobwebs blotting the light from the stars. “Mmm, I do love every shade of your gray.”

Her lips pucker and the sound of her air kiss carries loud enough for him to hear. There’s a click, the tumblers drop and the lock falls into her hand. The door swings open, a flickering incandescent light moves back and forth across the dank space. It stills, and light slowly starts to fill the barn before it starts to strobe slowly.  Betty and Jughead step through the door to find another set of tables and several cages of varying size, all filled with all different types of corvids. 

“Please tell me those things aren’t going to be released and we have to reenact Hitchcock before we can get the next clue, because honestly Betts, your cousin can fuck herself.”

“She wouldn’t dare. Cheryl knows perfectly well that I couldn’t run in this dress if my life depended on it.”

“And how do we know this is Cheryl? I mean, I know you said you talked to her about the party but this all just seems…”

Betty laughs. “Even more extra than usual? Understood. But that’s because, between you and me, I think she’s been missing home, and everyone, a lot, and she just wants to make sure in her patented Cheryl way that no one forgets her while she’s gone.”

She swears his eye roll is audible, because she can’t see him but knows implicitly that his eyes do indeed roll. “Why couldn’t she just hire a gourmet chef to cater? That would certainly be more endearing, and remember worthy, than having to trip the night horrific down memory lane.”

It's at this point, the birds, she realizes, are mostly fake. No, not fake fake. Taxidermied. Of course. “She’s still a Blossom, Jug. We internalized our traumas and turned them into our motivations, our tools to perform. Cheryl ran away, and now, the only way she can deal is to face everything head on. Take back the bad…”

“Make it good, right, right…” Jughead is muttering as his hand sweeps across his brow.

It’s been hard, Betty knows, to try and disassociate yourself from your familial legacy. Especially when said path leads you back to a level of depravity that you can barely wrap your head around. While she, like Jughead, have embraced their darker sides, it doesn’t mean that all the bad just disappears when you wake. His demons become characters in his books, their battles scratched out on napkins and receipts and any piece of paper that crosses his path when the inspiration strikes. He has bouts of anxiety that have to be quelled with medications, but some that breathing exercises and soft conversation will help to pass. 

Betty knows it’s mostly been the combination of therapy and lack of downtime that have really helped to keep him from slipping off the edge. 

“But in all seriousness, please, why did she call the elementary school and ask for third graders to write these clues?”

The space between them fills with the smell of apples and cinnamon, the small cloud from the vape pen lingers in the air. She takes the small black tube from his outstretched hand and holds it to her lips. Inhaling slowly, Betty lets the sweet, sticky intoxication take hold and inherently knows that Jughead is going to be kite-like in order to get through the night.

And she is five hundred percent okay with this. 

The pen is back in his hands and at his mouth before she can exhale. Her words come out with a cough. “I actually think it was fifth graders. But the education standards in this county are seriously slipping. You should consider changing profession, I imagine most children would love to learn from such an encouraging and engaging critic.”

He snorts. “No fucking thank you. At least not, you know…” The pen is back in his pocket, his hand now scratching at the back of his neck, the slicked down hairs starting to stand under his ministrations. She reaches out and lays her hand over his and he sighs. “Maybe someday.”

Jughead slides their hands from his neck and holds her fingers to his lips before they drop and swing between them. “Until then Mr. Jones, I believe this ‘clue’ is all yours.”

Betty squeezes his hand before she steps out of his grasp; she’s looking for something to grab the awaiting envelope with. He crouches, eyes level with the sleek, black paper, fingers folding and interlocking in front of his face. 

The lights strobe, flashes of wings and glinting steel catch her eye while she feels out the table. Her fingers catch the rim of a small, cut-crystal glass. She grabs the vessel and sniffs—smoke and peat—and throws back the contents in a single swig. It burns most pleasantly.  Almost instantly a live crow caws, drawing her attention back to the task at hand. 

She finds napkins, pushes a few up her sleeve for later and hands Jughead one so he can start the reading and direct them to their next locale. 

He grabs the edge and hits the seal against the table, disrupting all the living birds who respond in discordant chaos. The paper slides from the envelope, and somehow, through the strobing lights and cacophony, he's able to read.

What is it that makes the Blossoms bloom?

The very thing that sealed their doom.

Planted soldiers, row by row

Did we reap of all we sowed?

Follow the pieces dropped from my bough

Into the circle, cast a Samhain spell.

“Did she have to go full on nightmare Wizard of Oz? A path through the maple grove? Wholly unnecessary.”

“Something about a tree, and it looking like something busted it out of it?” Betty stumbles, her heel catching on a root. Though she curses under her breath, she realizes it’s one of the very few Cheryl’s team had missed fixing while covering the entire path with the fallen leaves. (The rest she had incinerated, of course. The maple grove couldn’t look picturesque with all those leaves just laying in hodgepodge piles, after all.)  She’s happy to see the tables set only a few yards away. “I was only half listening, but I remember her saying it was the perfect kind of creepy.”

He scoffs. “This whole place is the perfect kind of creepy. And if you knew all this nonsense was happening,” he turns toward her, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of the purple velvet smoking jacket, crooked mustache above a crooked smile, and looks her up and down. “Why the fuck would you wear those shoes? I mean, I’m not complaining because you look INSANELY hot but if you knew we were going to be walking over the palatial levels of acreage, then maybe—”

“True. All true. But would Morticia trade fashion for practicality? I think not, " Betty steadies herself at the main table, only slightly larger this time though still round, once again flanked by a beverage table (with a keg of cider it would appear) and another covered with small, apple tarts.

The night glows around them in all it’s autumnal splendor. Fairy lights wrap around the bases of the maple trees and twirl up through their branches. Pumpkins, some meticulously carved and others whole, fill the spaces between the trees, the tables, and line the path away from the grove. 

Jughead seems to be enjoying himself, he’s at least not as tense as he was to start. His steps are lighter, he’s quicker with a smile, and he’s laughing with an ease that she hasn’t seen in far too long. The vape pen slips back into view and she smiles, but declines when he offers it. The scotch from their last stop is starting to slink in and much more inebriation will not serve her well. She picks up a glass and flips the tap on the cider, filling one for her and one for Jug, who takes it without preamble.  Betty lets out a small sigh of relief when he sips the contents and doesn’t start to question the intentions behind it. In fact, he looks like he quite likes it. She starts sipping on her own, gags a little, and quickly places the cup back on the table, wishing she’d have downed more of the Islay deliciousness instead. 

“This one is all you, m’lady,” Jughead tips back his cup before grabbing her discarded one and doing the same. 

Her head shakes in mock annoyance. “Can you please try and maintain a modicum of sobriety? I’d like to make it to this party in one piece.” 

A raised eyebrow meets her, followed by the click of the tap and the glug of liquid spilling into his cup. “I thought this was the party.”

She can hear the cider sloshing as he lifts the glass but it’s overwhelmed by the sharp hiss of her black, stiletto nails as they slice through the seal wax.  “Only in your dreams.”

Her eyes scan the scrawl, pinching close briefly as she gets to the end. When she turns around to show Jughead he’s right there. She sucks in a breath and clutches the clue to her chest with a muttered Jesus. 

He smiles devilishly. “You’re right about that,” his hands circle her hips and he pulls her flush. “In my dreams it is most definitely only you and me. But we’re not doing any of this.”

“Oh, what are we doing?” she asks breathless.

His head dips and he leans toward her, stopping just shy of their lips meeting. She squeaks out his name, a petulant whine, but he does not acquiesce. “I think you know exactly what we’re doing in my dreams,” Jughead digs the tips of his fingers into the flesh of her waist, the palor from the makeup looking particularly ghoulish in the din. “But more than that, even though the thought, and promise if I’m not mistaken, are most tempting. It’s just that when it’s you and me I know everything is going to be okay. That no matter how dark or cold the night you’ve always got my back.”

Betty shivers almost as if on cue, tears burning at her eyes, she reaches out quickly and grabs his face. While the paper flutters to the ground, her thumbs run up the sharp cut of his cheekbones before her lips crash into his. They have more than enough time to spare, she thinks. Besides, she knows exactly where they’re going next.

Your next adventure you needn’t enter

But prepare to face a greater task

For the next clue will not be at the ready

And there shan’t be a soul around to ask.

Follow these pumpkins

Keep close the light

Only two more remain, dear friends,

To make it through the night.

Thistlehouse was the big bad. She knew it the way he reached for her hand as its impressive visage rose from behind the treeline. 

He’d only been back a handful of times, and only because his Toni had threatened his personage, so when she and Cheryl had broken up he swore up and down that he wouldn’t go back if he could help it. Yet here they were. She had assured him it would be different, that they were different, that there was nothing they weren’t in control of. 

And control was most assuredly something he liked. 

So she relented: the color of their bedroom, their sheet thread count, his preferred costumes (not that she put up a fight about being Mortica Addams). Once agreed upon, he dove right into the original series, watched every film iteration, studied cosplays; she watched as he got carried away by the sheer drama of it all. Jughead, she was aware, couldn’t help but love himself some drama. She recognized, quite quickly, that he had the same vim for creating their narrative, the same kind of spark that emerged when he switched from writing novels to creating graphic novels. 

Betty remembers watching as that switch flipped inside of him, the magnitude of feelings when he saw his words start being represented by an artist. Then the elation of being beholden to filling those intensely rendered scenes with the words that conveyed all the expressed feelings, and did them justice. 

She sees the way his eyes light up every time he mentions a storyboard, hears the excitement in his voice when his characters come to life, when they transfer from paper to corporeal and feel real and tangible in his hands. She wants to be a part of that for the rest of her life.

She shivers, pulling at the tightest section of her sleeves and tries to cover more of her arms with the taut fabric. Wordlessly, his arm slips around her waist, pulling her close to his warm body.

Sometimes, on the nights when the heaviest thoughts pervade her mind, and she starts spiraling through all the things she should have done differently, he does the same thing. Gathers her in his arms, whispers all the things he loves about her into her hair.

It's the hours (days, months, lifetimes) of listening, of shared experiences, of perspective that propelled them together and held them there. After a brief, albeit necessary step back the summer following their graduation, they came back together stronger and more committed than before. And it's sustained them these last eight years.

"What are you thinking?" His lips ghost across her temple as the tables come into view. 

She smiles, lacing her fingers through his and pulling them to her mouth. Betty kisses his knuckles and nuzzles closer. "Just how lucky I am to have you."

"The feeling is very, very mutual, " he leans down and is met with a sweet kiss. She feels a tug on the hand wrapped around his. The moment they separate she's spun away, the wide hem of her dress flaring around her. She lets out a laugh and Jughead starts twirling her, spinning them through a sloppy tango toward their objective.

It's been too long since they've been this carefree, that deadlines and court dates and conventions and lab work have become their normal. They try not to allow them to take precedence in their lives though, try to ensure the living, breathing, real people always, always come first but some days that’s harder work than others.

They dizzily bump into the drinks, glasses clinking off one another as they spill onto the tablecloth. This only makes the laughter come more freeky. They take the libations, toast one another and drink down what Jughead hopes is the last vestige of maple rum in existence.

While he ravages the snack table, Betty reaches for the last envelope with shaky hands.

One more trek awaits, before your final stop

Please take this chariot, you've done nothing but walk

Follow the lights, you'll be lead right to us

To cold to enjoy it, though to look is a must

You may not believe it, but heed these words true

Your life may very well change down by the pool.

The golf cart whirrs to a stop just before Thornhill’s swimming pool. Betty turns it off and steps out, the light emanating from the thousands of cream colored candles that line the far side reflects and dances on the still surface. Candelabras from three to ten feet tall, tea lights, chandeliers, votives, pillars; you name it, that candle had a place surrounding the dark water.

“Do you think Cheryl spent more on candles than we did on the down payment for our house?” Jughead muses coming to stand beside her, elbow jut out in invitation. Betty smiles softly when her arm slots through the space. She grips tightly, her cheek coming to rest on his bicep.                                        

“I think Cheryl probably spends more than that on even stranger things, on a daily basis,” they laugh low, content to be close, aware that their blissful solitude will soon cease. It’s just ahead—the white canvas tent marks the end of their path.

Betty’s heels echo with each step. She can’t tell if it’s as loud as it sounds in her head but reverberation seems to stutter with her pulse. The table that seemed to loom so far in the distance is mere steps ahead. This time, a gold tray rests dead center atop the crisp, clean linen, the final black envelope lies just within its confines. There are two, blood-red flutes on either side, waiting for the final clue to be read.

Without pause, Jughead reaches for it. “It’s blank.” He waves the card in front of him. Betty watches his fingers slide over the parchment, flipping it between them and examining it before the flame.

She swallows, stepping back. “I’m afraid you won’t find your answer there.”

His head turns before his body, the expression inscrutable. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying there’s nothing there. No hidden message writ with heat sensitive ink. No impressions traceable with charcoal.”

Her hands shake but there’s nothing she can do to stop them. He’s facing her now, cardstock forgotten it falls to the ground. “Betty, you promised,” his voice thick with the kind of worry that constricts all the pieces of her heart.

“I promised you would be safe. That we would be safe. And we are! There is not one part of this night that I haven’t carefully cultivated to make this an enjoyable experience,” she worries her lip between her bottom teeth when he looks away from her.

“Why? What is all this about?”

“Trust me, I know. Why would I do this? Set all this up and make you relive one of the collective worst nights of our life?”

His head swings back to her, expression screaming DUH, with the severe angle of his brows and the depth of the creases that have formed there. His arms cross over his chest as he waits for her to continue.

“I know I can't fix all the bad. But this one thing I wanted back, for the both of us. I want you to be able to go to escape rooms, or watch murder mysteries, or get surprises without triggering your PTSD. I want you to be able to stop looking over your shoulder, every minute of every day. I know how hard you work to get through, but I don’t just want you to have to put on a brave face and breathe through all those fear responses. And believe me, I’m aware that this is not a cure or therapy or anything more than me trying to reclaim something awful with something beautiful.”

She steps in front of him, bright green eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. She explains that she knows how much he loves Clue but can’t play it because sometimes it takes him to a place where he’s Mr. Body and everyone around is trying to simultaneously kill him and solve his murder, and he’s the only person in history who can say that’s too much like real life. And she hates that. Hates that he has to channel so much of that pain and anger and anxiety into characters in fictions, even though she knows it’s one of his healthier coping mechanisms. Hates that even with all the therapy and medication and love in their lives that his pain underscores so, so much of him. 

“I really do love Clue,” he sniffles, tears forming in his eyes. 

Betty laughs, taking his hands in her own. “I know you do. And I just want you to be able to enjoy everything, and I know I can’t make everything right. That’s not possible nor is it my job. But what I can do, is be by your side, be with you on those days when the thoughts are too heavy and you need help carrying them,” she let’s go of a shaky breath, hoping the mermaid skirt doesn’t fail her as she carefully kneels on the blanket that’s laid out next to the sparkling water. 

“Betty,” his voice trembles like she knows hers will.

She releases his hand for just a moment, sliding a final, velvet envelope from the sleeve of her gown. “Forsythe. Pendleton. Jones. The Third.”  Betty peels back a fold with each of his names that pass her lips. On the square sits a ring, mahogany, with a braided birch inlay, lined with soft, gleaming willow. “Jughead. The person who knows me best. Who has seen all the bad, who knows exactly who I am and what I’m capable of, and doesn’t just love me in spite of it, but because of it. You have given so much of yourself to keep the people you love safe. The huge heart, and compassion and forgiveness know no bound. And when I was young and dumb I tested the bounds of your empathy and love and risked everything because I was afraid. Because loving you was so easy and so all-encompassing I thought something had to be wrong. But the only thing wrong was me and you somehow loved me still. Your love has always been a tether, this undeserved filament that's kept me from floating into the ether."

Betty pauses to breathe, laughing though her tears, and picks the shiny wood ring up between her dark, matte nails. Their eyes meet in the excessive candlelight and Betty is infinitely thankful for waterproof mascara. “I am grateful that you stood by me. Helped me 

The hand she holds trembles as she slides the ring to his finger. "If I could form a coherent thought...I would." This time he laughs with her.

"Whaddya say, Jones? Make an honest woman of me?" The ring buttresses against his hand, the pale braid of birch almost silver in the moonlight. “Marry me, Jones.” She whispers into the night.

“For the record,” his arm slides down her forearm and grasps around her elbow. She’s on her feet, level with him before she knows she’s even standing. “Yes.” His lips crash into hers, bodies practically melding into one as her fingers twine through his hair, disrupting the slick without a single care. 

The lights from the main house flash on, music erupting from hidden speakers and suddenly life is breathed back into their hushed, reverent silence.

"Does everyone in there know?" He practically pants once they break apart.

"You can't think I did any of this on my own right? You're the creative and I'm, " she sighs, her fingers twirl in the hair at the nape of his neck. "The luckiest human in the world." 

He leans in again though this time they're both distracted by the sound of people moving toward them. He practically whines, "Now we're never going to check Thornhill off our list."

Betty smiles devilishly, her red painted lips twist and press ever so slightly against the shell of his ear. "Oh, did I not mention Cheryl has graciously offered an entire wing so that we may properly celebrate our engagement?" His eyes go wide while over his shoulder their friends all step into view. "Save the enthusiasm for later, you can show me just how happy you are as soon as we're congratulated by five hundred of our closest friends."

His eyes narrow and fix. "We stay for two hours, anyone who doesn't fit into that time frame clearly doesn't matter. And then you show me to our room, and I prove to you, over and over and over again that this is the best night of my life." 

They don’t last an hour.

[dungeonqueering]

As You Wish

As You Wish is the (working) title of a game I am going to do when my current in person game wraps up. That is a working title, if you have better suggestions I would LOVE to hear them.

In fifth edition DnD, the spell Teleportation circle becomes a permanent circle if you cast in in the same spot every day for one year. Each circle has a series of arcane runes that acts like a serial number. It takes one round to commit these to memory, and once you have done so, you can use that number to travel to that circle either from any other teleportation circle, or by using the Teleport spell. That’s how it’s listed in the PHB, at least.

The spell Wish is, of course, one of the most powerful spells imaginable. It has a list of possible effects, but it could theoretically do much much MUCH more. However, if you order “off menu” it is up to the DM’s discretion if the spell messes up or has unintended consequences in some way. These are the two spells that are the crux of this campaign.

The three players will be the most important people in a small farming town with a population of right around 500. I have a system set up that will determine what exactly the town has, shown here:

Basically, we are going to use a large battlemat I have to do the rough layout of the town, and I’ll do a nicer map of it between session 0 and session 1.

So far, one player is going to play a Hobgoblin cook who “retired” from the Hobgoblin army after “The War” that was 5-10 years ago. He was the army’s cook, and now he wants to have a restaurant and make actually good food, probably out of the monsters they kill. (We did discuss the logistics of making stock from Dragon Bones, and I found a solution.)

The other player wants to play a cleric who left his small town home to get a Big City Education so he could come back and be the small town doctor / mortician. He’ll probably also be the town archivist because most of the folks here can’t actually Read so someone needs to keep track of town history.

I am not sure about a 3rd player, a lot is up in the air in regards to that.

SO! How does the game begin? Why do those spells matter?

The town, on rare occasions, gets an adventurer who stops through. One such adventurer walks into the center of town and casts Wish.

“I wish for Infinite Loot!”

The implication in the word Loot is that you have to somehow work, or more likely fight, for your spoils. The spell forms a permanent teleportation circle in town square, and forces the caster into it. Inside, an infinite series of dungeons that the caster is cursed to forever roam until his death.

Not so for our heroes. See, the teleportation circle is permanent. They won’t know this for a while, but it magically alters existing dungeons as well as creating new ones wholesale. At the beginning and end of every dungeon is a teleportation circle, so the hapless wizard can get to the next layer. But our heroes? They can get back to the original circle. Back to their hometown. And they will make FAR more money in one trip than their town makes in a year. It’s a poor farming town, after all. Unless they pick one of the luxury goods during creation, they may not even have any real exports beyond food.

So maybe they go in the first time because the town is afraid, and wants it closed. Maybe they build a shack around it and lock it. But the idea is that they build their characters with both a thirst for adventure, yet a resignment to a quiet life. What if they can now have both?

So the players can now use the infinite dungeon as a way to generate income. But they have no incentive to go in every day. That would be dangerous, you see. Therefore, I am counting on days, weeks, even months of downtime between what I am calling “Delves”. So what do we do with our downtime? The DMG and XGE have a downtime system in place, but it isn’t exactly robust. It’s quite limited in what you can do, and a lot of the options lose value as you advance in level. Because of this, I have devised my own Downtime system, using a mixture of the DMG and XGE versions, as well as the downtime system from Pathfinder and the Kingdom Building system from Pathfinder as well. The goal is that they can spend their hard earned resources to not just better themselves, but to better their home town. To add businesses, citizens, defenses, attractions, and more. They may smart as a small town that should never amount to anything, but they will overcome it. This will ideally make them more invested in the reocurring NPCs. After all, that’s your neighbor. Your doctor. The people who helped you build your house. 

So with that said, here is the full Downtime system that I have devised:

Feel absolutely free to use this yourself. I’m going to make a separate post with just the raw text for you to copy and use at your leisure, just don’t, like, sell it or claim credit for it pls. It contains stuff from WotC, so not only will I be hurt and sad, but WotC might get CaD hungry.

Anyway, this is not a full and comprehensive list of things they may do. By its very nature its incomplete, and I hope they will come up with ideas I had never considered. The goal here is to provide a framework so that I can work with my players to create a wonderful city that I will surely use in future adventures. And now, hopefully, so will you.

[diamonddeposits]

 DEATH WAITS-BURN EVERYTHING

Toronto grunge-rock quartet Death Waits have a blisteringly  new bop titled Burn Everything that needs to be played loud as possible. The melodies remind me of us late late nights out on the town--and we feel like it can be your perfect storm of a score when things get back to normal (or as normal as it can). We recently touched base with them to ask them a few questions about how they are doing (and why they changed their band name) and they more than graciously responded. Read the interview below and listen, grab the single via their Bandcamp! 

01. Hey! How are you and how's it going? That is a tough question to answer honestly without being a massive bummer. The polite answer is I’m ok I guess. The world seems more shitty than usual right now, and as privileged as I am to not be actively suffering, the constant stream of Bad News TM is a little overwhelming. 02. How would you describe your sound? Its pretty grungey and loud but with pretty melodies. No-one who listens to this album when it comes out will be surprised to find out that I like Nirvana. I like a mosh pit, so I leaned into that feeling a lot. I keep threatening the other guys with a shoe gaze album though. But yeah when I was writing this album I felt really frustrated that we’d be playing to like a packed bar and like not enough people would get in the pit. So I decided to try and give all the songs a little more bounce when I was demoing them. 03. What was the impetus to change your band name from Champion Lover to Death Waits? We got the name from a dancehall song originally by Deborahe Glasgow but later re-done by Shabba Ranks. We decided that it really wasn’t the right way of honouring our fondness for dancehall so we changed it. The goal is to raise black voices, not build our name off of their backs. Death Waits is a pretty…emo but with a sense of humour? Like it really depends on how you think about it and who you are and what your relation is to your own impending doom. Some people are like “yeah, life’s short!” But other people are going to think “that’s a bit much.” Both are true to me. Like I find the fact that it could be seen as as this really inspirational thing as quite hilarious, but also totally emo and serious. 04. What was the inspiration behind Burn Everything? I grew up poor in a poor part of town and I really grew to resent it. The song is about trying to escape that, but realizing that the feeling of being poor stays with you long after you’ve left that place. 05. Any local bands from Toronto that you are loving right now and would love to tell us about? Oh absolutely. Check out The OBGMs, JONCRO, The Effens, BEAMS, Faiyaz And The Wasted Chances, DijahSB, Goodnight Sunrise, Burner, Not Of, Man Crush…god there’s so many.

06. Any sleeping tips for us? Yeah, get lots of it-more than me at the very least. I am the worst possible person to ask about sleep. If I’m lucky I sleep maybe 5-6 hours a night, and have got my coffee habit down to three cups a day from about two pots. It was bad. Sleep is the greatest thing on the entire planet, and I STILL don’t think we appreciate it enough. 07. What is one thing that you could imagine Death would wait for? I imagine if he was actually some sort of being or like the ACTUAL grim reaper that it’d be really funny to imagine him like sort of finding ways to eat up some of his downtime between “clients” like he’s going to shop for knick knacks or having a coffee or a beer. He has a Tinder profile, he waters his houseplants. I think the more banal he is as an entity the funnier. 08. Any books or films at the moment that you dig that you would love to share with us? I really wish I read more. Reading is the best. The sheer power of your imagination is crazy. I found a copy of 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami on the street just as it had started to rain so I rescued it and it now sits on my headboard waiting for me to finish it. It’s a little too smart for me.  I don’t have much of an education so I struggle with capital L literature. I watched Mitchells vs The Machines on Netflix and loved it. Its pretty rare that a kids movie is as much fun for the parents. I’m working my way through the Apple+ show The Mosquito Coast. Its just so goddamn beautiful but seems to have some stuff to say about Americans and their treatment of Mexico and immigration. I feel like Apple must boost the resolution on their own streaming platform over others because their stuff always looks so much better than Netflix.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 59

Warnings: Profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @ocfairygodmother​

A hot shower and a three hour nap -aided by a mixture of antidepressants, anxiety meds, and pain killers washed down by three shots of tequila- has done Tyler a world of good.  Waking up feeling energized; still riding the high of the morning’s adrenaline rush and relatively pain free. Nothing more than a dull throb in the deepest part of the shoulder; some discomfort and audible cracking and popping when he stretches and manipulates it. But it’s bearable, unlike the agony that’s been a near constant fixture in his life for the past couple of years. While the initial replacement surgery and rehab had both been complete successes, a full recovery had eluded him. It had been his own fault, of course; the surgeon’s orders  had been to alter his lifestyle and to avoid the very ‘activity’ that had caused so much damage in the first place. That ‘advice’ had lasted all of four months, until Nik had called, desperately needing his help and he’d been unable to resist both the lure of the game and the promise of damn good money.

He’d attempted to walk away several times in as many years, fully intending to commit himself to being a family man with his own little side business. Content with the motions of being the one to stay home with the kids while his wife either went back to school or found a new career she’d be happy with. But sometimes the best laid plans don’t work out. Not long after an early term miscarriage when the twins were two and a half, she’d  gotten pregnant with Declan DESPITE being on birth control and coming to a mutual decision to wait until both Millie and the twins were in school full time before once again trying to add to their family. It had been completely unexpected, and off of their previous plans regarding their home life quickly went by the wayside. The job was easy money; he was confident in his skills and his abilities and Nik had promised to offer only the easiest of gigs.

That changed quickly. What should have been an ‘in and out’ assassination of a key political figure in El Salvador turning  into a four day shit show that had him falling into dangerous enemy territory and almost needing to be extracted himself. After that, he’d said ‘fuck it’ and began taking whatever Nik brought to the table. And his physical health began to pay the price.

He orders a meal from room service and cracks open the bottle of whisky in the mini bar. He’s stuck to his word; staying sober while actually ON the job and not ever indulging during his downtime. Unlike the old days, he’s able to both pace himself AND stop after just a couple. A far cry from the guy who’d polish off an entire bottle and would be either too hung over to get up with his kids in the morning, or already passed out in the early evening; missing school events and extra curricular activities that he’d promised he’d attend. He refuses to be that guy again; the one who’d almost single handedly ruined his marriage because he put the bottle and the pain meds at the top of his priority list; allowing his addictions to take precedence over his family. The one who’d rightfully had his ass kicked out and then spent the next six months in a drunken stupor.

Never again. Never again will he be ‘that guy’. The absolute failure as a husband and a father. He can control it now; no longer needing to silence the inner demons or lessen the emotional suffering by getting. The want not nearly as powerful. Before it had been a way of life; no day complete without at least the smallest buzz. Now it’s a matter of convenience. Even enjoyment. A feeling of satisfaction and relief when the whisky finally hits the tongue and he experiences the initial burn in the back of his throat. After that, one drink doesn’t make him crave more. Instead satisfying his palate with bottle water and Gatorade and terrible coffee made in the hotel provided maker.

He’s lounging in the middle of the bed in a pair of boxer briefs when Koen finally returns. Back resting against the headboard and his legs stretched out; laptop resting on his thighs and a plate of food in his hands. And he only gives a brief glance towards the door when Koen stomps in and allows it to slam shut behind him.  Offering no greeting, calmly and casually eating from the enormous serving of goat curry and naan bread,  eyes never leaving the video playing on the computer; his three oldest on the plane, reading HIM a story and every so often having mispronounced words gently and lovingly corrected by their mother. And the grin that plays on his lips is double fold; pride and love for those beautiful and intelligent little human beings he’d had a hand in creating, and amusement at Koen’s mutters and complaints and strings of profanity.

“Look at you,” his friend grumbles. “All fucking relaxed and shit. Cocky, shit eating  grin on your face.”

Tyler’s attention  never leaves  the laptop. A different video this time; Addie giving a real, genuine smile when she has her chin tickled. That one brings the prick of tears to his eyes. She’s still so tiny and so fragile, but she is...in fact...growing up.

“Why do you swear all the time?” He finally asks. “Makes you sound stupid. Find another fucking adjective.”

Koen smirks. “Well aren’t you just the clever one. Leave it to your brain damaged ass to remember THAT.”

“It’s my short term memory that’s fucked. Although I do remember threatening to throw your ass off the balcony. Keep calling me stupid or brain damaged, and it’ll happen.”

“Don’t be so goddamn sensitive. What’cha watching?”

“Just some videos Esme sent me. Of the kids. I’ve got two five year olds and a six year old that can read better than I can. How’d the fuck that ever happen?”

“Well their momma’s pretty damn smart. Maybe just be thankful their brains at least took after her.”

Tyler frowns, then flips Koen the middle finger.  “I meant that they’re practically babies still and they can read like they’re a lot older. They’re so smart. So fucking smart.”

“Definitely gonna be trouble makers when they’re older. Imagine them as teenagers? Especially Millie? With that mouth of hers?”

“That mouth of hers is going to keep trouble AWAY from her. She says what she wants; fuck anyone’s feelings. Someone gets mouthy with her when she’s older, she’ll put them in their place. And if her own mouth doesn’t do it, her right hook will. She's a savage that kid.”

“Best of both mom and dad if you ask me. And look at you just kicking back. Acting like  you didn’t just butcher two people this morning.”

Tyler shrugs. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for them?”

“Just thought maybe you’d be a little more...I don’t know...grumpy.”

“Why would I? They got what was coming to them. And they deserved a lot worse. You think that was brutal? Wait until I have more time and more space.”

“You’re starting to scare me a bit, mate. You’re enjoying this a little too much, I reckon.”

“Well if it was  your family being threatened, you’d enjoy it too. You know what kind of things they would have done to my wife and kids? What I did is tame compared to what they had planned. I’ve heard the threats; you haven’t. It’s nightmare inducing shit. Let’s leave it at that.”

“That why you been freaking out in your sleep? Waking up barely able to breathe and shit? Scared the crap out of me the first couple of times.”

“It’s fucking with my head a bit,”  Tyler admits. “Kind of hard not to let it mess with you. Trust me when I say that what I read? What was said about Esme? About the kids? I don’t wish any of it on my worst enemy.”   It makes bile rise in his throat just thinking about it and he places the laptop on the bed and reaches for the bottle of Gatorade sitting on the nightstand. Downing half in order to rid himself of the bitterness and the burn.   “Heard you guys had a bit of trouble.”

Koen scowls, pausing in the middle of taking off his gear. “Don’t get all cocky again, young man.”

“Not getting cocky. Just repeating what I heard. Didn’t you guys leave the same time I did?”

“Your point?”

“No point.” A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. “Just making an observation. I mean, I was alone and had to take out two people. By myself. Took me twenty minutes. And that includes me getting there AND back. You know all the shit I’ve done since then?”

“Nope. But I bet you’re gonna tell me, aren’t ya.”

“Took a shower, ate, slept for three hours. Now I’m eating again. And you’re getting back. Just now. It’s almost six. In the evening.”

“You’ve kept yourself busy. You jerk off sometime in there too?”

“Twice, actually.”

“Your lazy ass could have handled some more work. Instead you’ve been here slacking.”

“I’d done my bit for the day. Next time be faster.”

“Easy for you to say,” Koen scoffs. “Mister ‘I have all the experience’.  You now, we could have used your help out there.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that. Can you repeat it?”

“Don’t be a little prick."

“I swear you just said that you could have used MY help. I swear you just said that.”

“You’re asking for an ass kicking, you know that?”

“Funny how you wanted my help when this morning you were acting I like I didn’t know what the fuck In was doing. It’s almost like...I don’t know...like you’re actually admitting you were wrong.”

“I ain’t admitting shit. Just saying we could have used your help.”

“Why? Apparently I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I am five seconds away from punching you in the face,” Koen growls. “And your wife won’t be too happy if I mess that face up. So…”

“Just swallow your pride and admit you’re wrong, mate. That you shouldn’t have underestimated me. Get it off your chest. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Make you feel better, you mean. I’d rather stroke your cock than your ego.”

“Well you’re definitely never getting anywhere near my cock so it’s my ego or nothing.”

“Fine,” Koen sighs heavily. “I underestimated you. I will never again second guess your skills or your abilities. But I still think you’re a brain damaged fuck.”

“I’ll take it,” Tyler says, then sits the now empty plate and Gatorade bottle on the nightstand and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “How did it go in the end?” he asks, groaning and grimacing as he stands. Forty starting to feel like it’s closer to death, never mind middle age.

“They’re dead. So it ended on a good note. Put up a hell of a fight. Rata took an elbow to the face and went crazy. Beat the guy to death. You would have been impressed. I think he’s a natural.”

“And you?”

“I prefer the simple things in life. Pull a trigger and it’s done. I’ll leave the more hands on, gruesome shit for you two. Gotta date or something?”

“Going to the airport.” He slips into a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt. “Going to see my wife and kids.”

“Think that’s a good idea?”

Tyler sighs in exasperation. “Don’t fucking start this shit again.”

“Just if anyone is following you and you lead them right to your family…”

“Anil gave me the okay. Said he’s got tons of guys keeping their eyes on things. Yaz is sending a couple of people with me. So fuck off with this overprotective bullshit.”

“Now you know how your wife feels.”

“I have a reason to worry about her. A LOT of reasons. Damn good ones too. If you’re going to ride my ass so hard, at least pull my fucking hair.”

Koen smirks. “You’re into that kinda shit, aren’t ya. I knew it. Always knew you were a freak.”

“As much as I’d like to stay here and discuss my sex life with you, I’ve got better things to do.”  He attaches his holster to his right hip, gathers up his wallet and hotel key card and both phones.

“You better not come back here with that ‘’just got fucked’ grin on your face,” Koen warns. “Because I will beat your ass.”

“You’ll be too busy beating something else.” Tyler retorts, right hand mimicking jerking off. Chuckling when Koen throws a shoe at him when he steps out the door.

****

It’s only a fifteen minute drive to the airport and he already knows everything there is to know about the young tech that Yaz has recruited to ‘escort’ him. It’s annoying enough not to be able to something as simple as driving, but to have to stuck with someone that is overly chatty and friendly is nothing short of torture.  He’s never been a social creature; unlike his wife who makes friends easily and never shies away from making conversation with just about anyone, including strangers in the grocery store or out on the street. She’d been the first...and only...chatty person that hasn’t gotten on his nerves.

Her name is Riya and she’s twenty one; last of eight kids, her mother and father both extremely successful and wealthy business people in Dubai. The so-called ‘black sheep’ of the family; all but disowned when she’d decided to attend an American university  -Georgetown- and  make her home there. Even if he HAD have been talker, he wouldn’t have had the chance to offer up much commentary; her mouth running a mile a minute as she nervously and awkwardly spills even the smallest details of her life.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her to stop her. The old Tyler...the one that existed only six short years ago...would have already snapped and told her to shut the fuck up. But who he is now...the man he is...is different in so many ways. Far more patient. Considerate. Empathetic, even. And the father of a little girl that is the very definition of a chatterbox. Who’s bright eyed and bubbly and talkative from the time she opens her eyes in the morning until the moment she closes them at night. And he wouldn’t want some asshole speaking to his own daughter like that, so why would he?

“How long HAVE you been married for?” Riya asks, and he can hear Esme’s voice in his head; reminding him that not everyone is out to get him. That their curiosity is often just that. They’re genuinely interested in him and want to be his friend.

“Six and a half years.” Sometimes it doesn’t feel nearly that long. Other times, considering all of the bad shit they’ve been through and the time they didn’t think they’d make it. It seems a hell of a lot longer.

“And five kids, right? In only six and a half years?”

“We’ve really been together for seven. Well, almost seven. But yeah. Five kids.”

“They must be really close together.”

“First three are. My daughter is six, the boys are five.”

“Twins? Identical or…?”

“Fraternal. Millie...my daughter...was only two months when we found out they were on their way. They were kind of a surprise, needless to say. We have another boy after them; he’ll be two in a few months. And we have a baby girl. Almost eight weeks.”

“Just a little one.”

Tyler nods. “Very little. Very tiny. My wife is, too, Small. But feisty as hell. And tough. Toughest and strongest person I know.”

“Yaz said you met on the job.”

“Yeah, we got sent out on the same gig, To Bangladesh. Actually had to pretend we were married.”

Riya laughs. “Really?”

“First time I ever got mixed up in something like THAT. It’s a long story, but in the end, my fake wife ended up becoming my real wife.”  He doesn’t feel the need to fill in the gaps between beginning and end; Dhaka and what happened there has never been kept off the radar. Word travels fast in the dame, and every single details has been made available; everything from Mahajan fucking him over to Gaspar’s betrayal to  his near death experience.

“Probably the best ending to a job you’ve ever had,” Riya comments.

“Took me nearly dying and her sticking her fingers in my neck to keep me alive, but yeah, in the end things turned out pretty damn good. What about you? You got a family? Other than the ones that don’t speak to you?”

“Nope. It’s just me. It’s hard finding someone that understands this kind of life. Who won’t judge you for it. And the people you meet through this life aren’t exactly the settling down types. As much as I want to believe I’ll meet someone, I probably should just prepare myself to be alone for the long haul.”

“There’s gotta be someone out there. Either in the game or someone who won’t be bothered by it.”

Fuck. He’s starting to sound like his wife. Years spent listening to her reason with her little sister over the phone that there has to be a guy -or girl- out there that would be into her; a full time student with five cats and a host of mental health issues and an extremely toxic family. Or hearing her talk Ovi through his personal issues; always chasing the wrong girl and left brokenhearted in the end. Normally he just stays out if; offering shrugs of the shoulders or a simple nod or a head shake when Esme attempts to get him involved.

“Maybe there is,” Riya sighs. “Do you have any single friends?”

“My single friends are single for a reason. And I’m a lot older than you and they would be too. So…”

“What about Ovi? He’s your friend. He’s young. Is he single?”

“He’s actually more my son than my friend”

“Son?” Her brow furrows in confusion. “How…?”

“Another long story. We ended up taking in him, giving him a proper home, a family. But yeah. He’s single.”

“Do you think  maybe you could…?”

Tyler laughs. “Yeah...no.  Just no. I’m not trying to be a dick about it, but I don’t get involved with this kind of thing. That, and I’ve got some pretty serious shit I’m dealing with and it’s definitely NOT the time even if  I WAS  the kind that would help. I mean, my wife likes to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. You could always ask her to talk to him or whatever. I’m not who you want. Trust me.”

“Do you think she would? Put in a good word for me?”

“I guess,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Look, I’m not the sociable type. So I don’t mean to come across as an asshole, but…”

“You’re honest,” she says. “I heard that about you. That you don’t say much, but you mean what you say and don’t pull any punches.”

“I can be a little harsh,” Tyler admits. “So I’ve been told, anyway.  I’ve bet you heard a lot of things about me.”

She nods.

“Probably not a lot of good things.”

“More good than bad. But the bad is pretty...well...bad.  I don’t know; you don’t seem that awful to me. I mean, how awful can someone be when they have a wife and five kids? No woman would stick around long enough to have one kid, never mind that many.”

“Never thought of it that way. I’m not an easy person to live with. I’ve put her through a lot. But maybe I’m not as terrible as I think I am.”

“I don’t think she’d still be around if you were. If she’s as tough and strong as you say she is, she would have hauled ass a long time ago.”

****

He’s still thinking of those words when they arrive at the airport; pulling right onto the tarmac behind the smaller hangar he’d flowed into only two days before. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then. Since he’s stood in front of his home, kissing and hugging his wife and kids goodbye and wondering if he’d ever see them again. With how successful the morning had been, he wants to be more confident in regards to the eventual outcome. But he knows how things work; each kill will get harder and messier and more complicated. Mahajan will clue into his involvement and up the stakes even more. One good day doesn’t mean you can let your guard down. Not in the slightest.

Riya waits in the car, but both drivers and passengers of the three vehicles that had followed them climb out. Staggering themselves along the tarmac, eyes surveying the surroundings; bullet proof vests under their clothing, weapons at the ready.  The jet’s already arrived and the stairs being placed in front of the open door when he crosses the distances between it and the car; less than ten feet away when the first little body appears. Millie with her ever present messy hair and those Spiderman sandals; an Incredible Hulk t-shirt paired with a frilly -and glittery- pink and purple tutu over a pair of camo leggings.  Her head down at first and a slight frown on her face; shrugging a unicorn and sloth themed backpack onto her shoulders and one foot tentatively checking the strength and support of the stairs in front of her. And when she finally does glance up, the look is one of shock at first.  Her brow furrowed and those huge blue eyes wide and disbelieving. Then quickly widening and sparkling when realization sets in; a brilliant smile spreading across her face.

“Daddy!” She shrieks, and immediately forgets about her discomfort on the stairs, rushing down them and leaping from the second last one; not even stumbling or missing a single stride. “Daddy!”

Tyler catches her as she throws herself at him, effortlessly scooping her up into his arms. Feeling those little arms immediately circle his neck, squeezing as tight as they can and how soft her cheeks and her forehead are against his lips and how impossibly light she seems.

“You said we wouldn’t see you  for a few days!” Her tone has a slight scolding quality to it.

“I thought I’d surprise you guys. I got things finished nice and early so I could come and say hi. I missed you,” he lays a hand on the back of her head and presses a kiss to her temple and then her brow. “I missed you so much.”

“I miss you too. This is the best surprise EVER.”

“Even better than getting Saju as a late birthday gift?”

"I love Saju, but I love you more. You’re my daddy. And I was worried about you. About the bad guys getting a hold of you.”

“The bad guys don’t stand against me. You know that.”

“Daddy!” TJ hollers, and soon both he and his brother -and two dogs- are racing towards him. And with Millie still on his hip, he drops down to one knee, laughing when the force of those of those small bodies - and all of the power and excitement and love inside of them- knock him off balance and he finds himself on his ass on the damp, cold tarmac. Gathering all three kids into his arms and pulling them tightly into him.

“I knew you could do it,” Tanner’s face is buried in the side of his neck, tears hot against his skin. “I knew you could beat up the bad guys and still come and see us! I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“I’ve only been gone two days, mate.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s only two hours. I still missed you.”

“I missed you too. I missed ALL of you.”  

He presses his lips to each forehead, returns each tight, fierce hug. Still sitting on the ground as he listens to all three speak at once’ excited tales about what they’d done on the plane and the movies they’d watched and the naps they’d taken and the food they’d eaten, Millie showing off her matching bracelet.  And she moves out of the way when Delcan arrives; a beaming smile on his face and a ‘miss daddy’ in his tiny voice before throwing his arms around Tyler’s neck. And he runs his fingers through his son’s silky red hair and showers his cheeks with kisses and holds him as tight as Declan will let him. And even now he’s not sure he deserves all of this. The adoration and the unconditional love and their blind faith and trust in him.

“Good to see ya,” Kyle says in greeting, placing Addie -in her car seat carrier- on the ground beside him, then offering a hand to help Tyler to his feet and giving him a one armed hug. “Especially in one piece. Heard today was the day. Must have went okay. You’re standing here.”

“Went better than I thought it would. I’ll take a good start over a bad one any day.”   He drops to a knee once more, smiling at his baby girl as he unfastens the straps of the carrier.  “Hey sweet pea...hey little peanut…” he scoops that tiny body into his arms, settling her against his chest; a forearm under her bum, hand on the back of her head. “Daddy missed you. He missed you so much.”

“What are you even doing here?” Esme inquires as she joins them, a playful scolding tone to her voice and a look of pure relief on her face.

He grins down at her. “I guess crossing your fingers worked.”

“I guess it did,” she says, and he’s able to keep Addie pressed securely against him with one arm as he wraps the other around his wife; pulling her tightly into him, lips meeting her temple. “I know it’s only been two days,” her voice is muffled against his chest, both arms around his waist. “But I have missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. It’s felt longer than two days.”

She nods, pulling away slightly to look up at him, tears sparking in her eyes. “I was so worried about you. Everything went okay?”

“Better than I thought it would. I’ll call you later and tell you all about it. Fill you in on all the gory details.”

“Yes, because I just love your stories of mutilation and homicide. You’re okay?” Her hands rub at his sides. “You look okay.”

“I’m fine. Not a scratch on me.”

“Guess you haven’t lost your touch after all. And to think you were worried about that.”  Her face turns serious, the amount of tears in her eyes increasing. “I was so fucking worried about you, Tyler.”

“I know you were.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry. Everything’s fine.”

“I’m just relieved. That I didn’t just have to take your for it and I got to see it...you...with my own eyes. I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”

“Now you’re going to make ME cry.”

“Did you get the videos? Did you watch them?”

“I did. And I’m slightly concerned that my six year and five year olds are already smarter than I am.”

“I don’t think they’re anywhere near being that smart yet, but they are crazy intelligent. Almost scary HOW intelligent. We are going to have our work cut out for us, I think. Having three brainiacs in the house?”

“Four if you count their mom. Where do you think they get it from? My looks, your brain. We’ve been through this.”

“Is that some sneaky, backhanded way of calling me ugly?” she teases.

“Baby, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, you know that. And I love you,” he places a soft kiss to her lips. “So much.”

“I love you too. And did you see Addie? Her smile? Her REAL smile? She smiles exactly like you.  Her eyes crinkle and everything. So there. She DID get something from you, after all. Are you okay?” She reaches up and lays a hand on the side of her face, running her thumb over his lips. “With what happened? You’re alright?”

“I’m okay. I just missed you guys. It’s been harder than I thought it would.”

“It’s been six months. You had a whole different life for half a year. I’d be worried if going back to this WASN’T hard.”

“It’s not just that. It’s...I don’t know….” Tyler shrugs. “I can’t talk about it right now. Not with the kids around.”

“Is it about what you did?”

He nods. “About what I did. How I felt about it. How I DIDN’T feel. We’ll talk later. I can’t stay long; just in case someone is keeping an eye on me. You guys will be safer at the house than you will be standing out here talking to me.”

“Thank you. For making the effort to get here.  The kids needed that; to see you. I needed that. I really needed to see you. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I needed to see you, too. I was worried I’d never get the chance again. And I wish I could stay longer. Or go to the house with you guys. I’d give anything to be able to do that. Anything.”

She gives a small, understanding smile. “I know you would.”

“I gotta go.” He holds Addie out in front of him, kissing her forehead. “I love you, little peanut. Stop growing up so fast. You might be the last one.”

“We’ll talk about that later too,” Esme says, and he leans down to press a kiss to her temple before placing Addie in her arms. “I love you. We’ll see you in a few days, right?”

“Yep.” He attempts a reassuring smile, then kisses her; long and soft and sweet. “I love you. Call me when the kids are asleep. We’ll talk about stuff.”

“Okay,” she agrees, squeezing him tightly and burying her face in her chest once more when he gives her one last hug. Holding onto him longer and tighter than before.  Unable to control the tears that trickle down her face.

****

“You should see this place,” Esme says four hours later, after all the kids have finally settled in their rooms  and have managed to fall asleep. “Remember when we stayed at Mahajan’s? What that place was like? Well this Mahajan’s on steroids. I am serious. Ten bedrooms. TEN! And eleven bathrooms! Who cleans all those bathrooms? We have three and we can’t keep up half the time. And the master ensuite is bigger than our entire bedroom. And our room at home is what I consider huge.”

He can’t hold but smile at the youthful exuberance in her voice. He knows she’s exhausted; physically and emotionally. Not just from a twelve hour flight with five kids, but with everything that’s gone down within the past month and a half.  But he can hear the difference; being in Mumbai and closer to him has lifted some of the stress and worry, replacing it with relief and at least some peace of mind.

“And you should the shit this guy has,” she continues. “I’ve never seen anything like it. An underground garage full of insanely expensive exotic cars. A home theatre, indoor and outdoor pools and jacuzzis, his own tennis and basketball courts. Who needs all this stuff? I thought we had a lot of stuff. This? This is our stuff times a thousand.”

“We have a lot of stuff...normal stuff...because we have five kids. He has a lot of stuff because he doesn't have anyone or anything else to spend his money on.”

“”I mean, we have money too. We’re not exactly poor. Not anymore, anyway.”

“We don’t have  his kind of money, babe. What we have in the bank is like a month’s salary to him.”

“We also don’t buy stuff just to buy and have stuff. This is just insane to me. And the animals. It’s not one or two, Tyler. It’s its own goddamn zoo. He’s got tigers and monkeys and peacocks and a sloth. And snakes. So many snakes. Don’t even get me started in the snakes. All I have to say is thank god they’re far enough away from the house and securely contained. Because you know my fear of snakes.”

“I don’t know where this fear comes from. We’ve only had one snake in the house so far”

“In  my shoe!” She reminds him. “Which I tried to stick my foot into, thank you very much.”

“What was one of the first things I told you when we first moved back to Australia? Especially where we moved TO. Check your shoes before you put them on. If you listened to me more often…”

“What if it bit me?”

“You would have lived because it wasn’t poisonous. And it was a baby. The way you fucking screamed, you would have though it was an anaconda trying to eat one or two of the kids.”

“I don’t like snakes. I told this when we first lived there. That I’m scared of them but I loved you enough to live somewhere where there’s tons of them. And you promised you’d be the one to handle them.  And the spiders.”

“Which I have. And the dingoes. Have I let a dingo get you?”

“You’re probably waiting for the opportunity to feed me to one.”

“Baby, if I wanted to get rid of you, there��s about a hundred different ways I could do it. And feeding you to a dingo is NOT one of them. And I don’t want to get rid of you, so…”  He stretches his legs out in front of him, resting his bare feet on the top railing of the balcony. “...you’re safe.”

“What I don’t understand is our children’s fascination and love of snakes and spiders. If you didn’t encourage them to pick the damn things up and let them crawl all over them…”

“They’re not dangerous. They can’t hurt the kids. Let’s not raise pussies, okay? They have to learn about stuff, yeah? Let them learn. As long as they’re not in danger, what’s the worst that could happen? What are they going to do? Want a Huntsman as a pet?”

“I will refuse to step foot in the house again,” she declares. “I will move out. I will live with Ovi in the guest house. If you EVER let the kids do anything like that, I swear…”

“I’d miss you too much. I know what lines I can’t cross.”

“Speaking of lines you shouldn’t cross. Who’s the girl you were with tonight?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“What? You thought I wouldn’t notice you left with her?”

Tyler grins. “Esme, are you jealous?”

“Do I have a reason to be?”

“I kind of like this. You getting all jealous. You getting all worked up. It’s kinda hot, actually. And no, you don’t have a reason to be jealous. She’s young enough to be my kid.”

“Maybe she likes older men.”

“Good for her. But I like you, so…”

“So who is she?”

“Riya. She works for Nik. She’s from Dubai. Apparently her folks are loaded and basically disowned her for going to school in the States and picking the job she did. Sound familiar?”

“That DOES seem a little too close to home for my liking.”

“She actually wants to talk to you.”

“Oh how cute,” Esme scoffs. “She wants my permission before she bangs my husband. Well at least this is asking before she tries.”

“Only person I want to bang is you. And she wants to talk to you about Ovi.”

“Ovi? What about him?”

“You’re the one who can’t stay out of other peoples’ business, right? You like meddling in relationships.”

“Pardon me? It’s advising. Not meddling. Advising.”

“She wants you to hook her up.”

“With Ovi?”

“Are you following along at all or have I been talking to myself?”

“I mean, it’s Ovi. He’s like my kid. No. Scratch that. He IS my kid. I can’t set him up./”

“Why not?”

“Do you want me setting Millie up? Or TJ? Or Tanner?”

“First off, Millie is six. The boys are five. It’s not the same thing. Just do it. Put in a good word for her.”

“So now you’re encouraging me to meddle? That’s a first for you.”

“I’m encouraging you to help a poor, desperate girl out. And Ovi too. He’s been acting like a little bitch since Chloe took off and I can’t can’t take much more. So do me a solid and save what’s left of my sanity and help Ovi get laid.”

“Okay, wow. THAT’S a little disturbing. Isn’t that supposed to be your thing? Anything sex related? You’re a guy. You find him a piece of ass. Call one of your hoes from your old  little black book.”

“Actually, I didn’t have anyone in India,” Tyler admits.

“You poor baby,” she scoffs. “My heart bleeds for you. And find. I will put in a good word for this girl. But if you want him to get laid, you figure out how to make it happen. And don’t sample the goods, either.”

“Only goods I want to sample are yours. So why don’t you come over here and let me.”

“You’re hurting, aren’t you,” Esme laughs.

“A little. It’s been forever.”

“It’s been two days, Tyler.”

“Feels like it’s been forever. What are you wearing?”

“Are you serious right now? You want to have phone sex?”

“You can’t come here and I can’t go there, so…”

“I’m wearing a lovely combination of premenstrual syndrome, baby puke, and dog hair.”

“Now THAT’S sexy. PMS, huh? So things are going back to normal that way.”

“It was going to happen eventually,” Esme sighs. “After the next one, they can take everything out. I’m done. I won’t need any of it  anymore. They can have it. If I never have a period again, that’s fine by me, I’d say it’s good for you too because you won’t have to put up with my extreme bitchiness once a month, but you have two daughter who will go through this one day.”

He frowns “Can Addie at least get to her first birthday before we talk about this shit?”

“It’s going to happen, Tyler. I mean it could happen to Millie in a few years. I was ten.”

“Esme, for fuck sakes. I don’t…”

“Sorry, honey. I hate to break your heart like this. But one day it’s going to happen. And one day she’s even going to want to have sex and need to go on birth control and…”

“Do you want a divorce? Because bringing this shit up is how you get a divorce.”

“I love you,  Tyler James. You’re my favorite human And I love how you can impale someone with a garden rake but you can’t handle the thought of your daughter maturing. You’re so fucking cute. You’re so cute, I’d have phone sex with you right now if my cramps weren’t so bad. I am telling you, after the next one? My body is done. That’s it. Take it all out. It’s not needed anymore.”

“Next one? I thought we weren’t going to talk about that until I got home.”

“I made the decision. Without you.”

He smirks. “Oh, so you mean like you usually do about everything.”

“Pretty much. If you really want another one…”

“You gotta want it too. Not just me. I don’t want you doing it just because I want it.”

“I do want to. One more. An even number.  And if something happens like it did with the one that should have been between the twins and Declan…”

Tyler sighs. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We stop if something goes wrong. Because once was bad enough. Well twice, if I count the one with Mark.  I can’t keep having my heart broken like that. And if we can’t successfully carry another one, we just stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “And it wasn’t fun for me, either. Going through that. It was my baby too.”

“I know. But you were amazing and so good with me and it made me love you even more. I’m worried about you, Tyler. There was something in your eyes tonight. When you talked about what you did today. I can’t put my finger on it. I just know what I saw and that I’ve never seen it before. It wasn’t old Tyler OR new Tyler. I don’t know who it was.”

“Before I tell you what’s going on, I need to tell you what  I did. And I know you hate hearing the gory details. But I need to tell you.”

“Okay…” There’s a slight rustle of the phone as she shifts positions in bed. “...I’m not going to sleep for a couple days after this, am I.” While she accepts and supports what he does, she draws the line at hearing the details. She’d seen enough in Dhaka, and once that was over, so was her desire to ever see -or think about- another drop of blood again. “Did you shoot them?”

“No. I didn’t shoot them. I was more...hands on.”

“Like your bare hands, or…?”

“Sort of. I kinda slit a guy’s throat and gutted another one. Literally.”

“Okay…”

“And I liked it. I liked doing it. And I’ve never liked doing it before. I killed because I had to. Because I had to keep myself alive. Now I’m doing it because I WANT to. Because I enjoy it. That’s fucked, yeah? Tell me that’s fucked. That I’M fucked.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s fucked. And I definitely won’t say you’re fucked. And I can’t say I’m totally shocked. Or shocked at all, to be honest.”

“Maybe we’re both fucked,” he says. “And not in the good, fun way either.”

“Well before you question our levels of depravity and insanity, let’s look at this for what it is. This isn’t a normal job. This isn’t what you’re used to. You’re used to not having any emotional ties to what you do. You go in, you do what you have to do, you get out. That’s it. You don’t know these people, you don’t know the people they’re hurting, none of that. You’re not connected to any of them, right?”

“Right.”

“Well this time you DO have a connection. A very personal one. These people threatened your family. And I don’t know exactly what the threats are, but they must be pretty bad if you won’t tell me.  I mean, people are saying horrible, twisted things about people you love. About me and your kids. It doesn’t get more fucked up than that; threatening children. Addie’s one of them and she’s just a baby. What kind of fucked person says shit like that about a baby?”

“Evil people,” Tyler concludes. “Really fucking evil.”

“And you’re pissed. To your very core. I see if in your eyes, Tyler. I hear it in your voice. How angry you actually are. How disgusted you are. And you have every right to feel those things. This is as personal as it gets. And you wonder why you enjoyed it? I’d enjoy it too if someone threatened you and I got to kill them. I’d enjoy every fucking second.”

“It just makes me feel like such a dick,” he admits. “Like I’m a horrible fucking person. I made the one guy look at me. Made him watch me while I slit his throat. And he recognized me. He knew who I was. And I liked that he did. That my face was the last thing he saw.”

“And that doesn’t make you a bad person,” Esme says. “A bad person wouldn’t  be worried that it makes him a bad person. You’re a good person, Tyler. I know you struggle to see that. But I see it. And I know it. I know who you are away from all of this. I know how loving you are. How gentle you are. What you did today...what you felt or didn’t feel...that doesn’t erase who you are or what you’re like away from all of this.”

He blinks back tears “This is fucked. This all so fucked.”

“You’re doing what you have to do. You’re stopping them before they can do the same thing to us. Or worse.”

“Definitely worse. Much, much worse.”

“Do you want to tell me what the threats were or…”

“No. You don’t need to hear that. You don’t need that shit in your head. It’s bad enough it’s in mine. That it’s  probably never going to leave.”

“We’ll work on that,” Esme promises. “Your brain. When we get home. We’ll work on it TOGETHER. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Tyler. So much. And I wish I could be right there with you. I know this isn’t easy for you. That you’re struggling with so many things. But I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in this throat and using a forearm to wipe the tears from his face. “I love you. And this sucks. Being away from you. You’re so close but it’s like you’re so fucking far.”

“If you need me there, I can find a way. And I will. You know me. I’m pretty sneaky and tenacious on a good day.”

He gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, you are.”

“And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. So if you need me there….”

“I’m okay. For now anyway. Stay with the kids. They need you.”

“So do you. Even if you won’t admit it.”

“I do. Need you. But they need you more.”

“Promise me you’ll call if it gets worse. If you change your mind. Because I’ll figure it out. How to get to you and stay with you. Promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Get some sleep, okay? It’s been a long day. Call  me in the morning. Just so I know how you’re doing.”

“I will.”

“And thank you. For showing up tonight. Seeing you did a world of good for the kids. Especially Tanner. He’s finally smiling again. And he has such a beautiful smile. YOUR smile. And it did me a world of good too. To see you. I miss you, And your arms. It was really nice to be in those arms again,”

“It felt good to have you in them. Hopefully in a few days…”

“It’ll happen. I know it will. You’re doing fine. Just keep doing what you have to do. That’s it. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Get some sleep,” she gently orders, and then disconnects the call.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #219: ... BY DIVINE RIGHT!

May, 1982

I can just tell that this is going to be a Moondragontastic issue. Call it a hunch. Call it the caption that reads “By divine right, MOONDRAGON commands!” Or call it her enormous cosmic head lurking mastermind like over the action scene.

Who are the Avengers even beating up? Guess I’ll find out.

So previously on Avengers! ... Uh. Well Hank Pym’s life imploded and he wound up in jail. Molecule Man was going to eat Earth and then Tigra told him not to sternly and he changed his mind. Tigra quit the team, alas. And there was that weird filler thing with the immortal child who pratfell into the Sun.

This time, we have a much delayed thing. Back during Shooter’s first run, he had unfinished plans for Moondragon which were supposed to happen sometime after the Korvac Saga. But he had to leave the book because trying to write a title and EIC wasn’t happening.

So now here he is, trying to write a title and EIC at the same time.

Uh. Second time’s the charm?

The story starts with Janet Van Dyne, divorced and Feeling Fine, getting a ‘ducky’ new haircut.

Yeah. It looks decent. Not much like a duck. But who can say why language does anything.

But just as she’s examining her new ‘do, Janet is struck by a sudden irresistible impulse to run out the salon! Run out and flyyyyyyyy!

So not really sure why, she runs out, shrinks down, and flies away.

Unfortunately, her clothes weren’t treated with unstable molecules and the compulsion is strong enough that she shrinks out of her clothes and flies off into the snow naked.

The awkward life of being Janet Van Dyne.

When we eventually establish that of course this is Moondragon, Moondragon is going to have a lot to answer for.

Meanwhile, in Atlantic City, Tony Stark is counting cards and loudly announcing that’s what he’s doing to his lady companion.

I guess when you’re rich as Tony and also have access to a ‘bodyguard’ in a walking weapons platform, casinos don’t get so kneebreaky with you.

But just as Tony bet $50,000 at blackjack, his Tony sense are tingling. Or he’s hit by the same weird compulsion as Wasp, which I’ve just noticed looks like generic store brand spider-sense in how its portrayed.

So Tony gets up and runs, telling his date that the money he has on the table and his cards are hers.

She sits down in his seat, hits on a thirteen, goes over 21 and shrugs “Easy come, easy go!”

Meanwhile, Tony flies out of the casino as Iron Man. He muses to himself that he barely resisted changing into his armor right in front of everyone.

Oh, so I see how it is (Moondragon)! Wasp is in such a hurry that she ditches her clothes but Tony gets to put some more on? I see where your butter is breaded.

Meanwhile again, Captain America is beating up some armed robbers. One of the armed robbers is actually a huge fan.

Armed robber Stu: “SPLIT UP, GUYS! RUN! HE CAN’T GET US ALL -- OOF!”

Armed robber Squid: “Stu, you jerk! He’s Captain America! Of course he can get us all! If I wasn’t a two-time loser, I wouldn’t even bother runnin’!”

But right when Cap is punching a guy, he too feels the SUDDEN COMPULSION!

He gets on his motorcycle and goes.

Leaving mixed feelings amongst the conscious armed robbers.

Armed Robber Eliot: “Hah! We scared him off, Squid!”

Armed Robber Squid: “I -- I can’t believe that! Nothin’ scares Captain America! Durin’ World War II, he took on a whole company of Nazis once and saved my dad’s platoon from an ambush!”

Eliot: “Big deal! That has-been’s runnin’ from us, isn’t he?”

Squid: “He ain’t runnin’! He probably has more important stuff to do, that’s all! And he ain’t a has-been!”

Eliot: “Right, Squid -- ! He’s a coward!” -punched- “OW!”

Squid: “SHADDUP, ELIOT!”

They’re so busy punching each other over whether or not Cap rocks or sucks that they forget to run and are punching each other when the police arrive.

Womp womp.

But hey, people get emotional debating their favorite superheroes. It is understandable.

Meanwhile again again, Jarvis is shoveling snow at Avengers Mansion and bitterly muttering to himself that he talked Tony out of purchasing a snowblower.

Jarvis: “I should have listened to Mr. Stark! I should have purchased a snow-blower as he asked! ‘Nonsense, sir!’ I said! ‘We Jarvises are a hardy breed,’ I said! ‘The expenditure is quite unnecessary,’ I said! Bah!”

Oh, Jarvis. Never talk Tony out of spending money. He has too much of it. He just lost $50,000 gambling like it was nothing.

Anyway, Thor shows up and clears all the snow by just twirling his hammer around super fast. He’s considerate like that.

With his afternoon cleared up, Jarvis invites Thor to join him watching the knickerbockers game on TV. Which is apparently ‘basketball.’

Since Thor’s afternoon is also open, he’s happy to watch sports with Jarvis.

It starts snowing again. Jarvis, not wanting work to pile up, asks Thor if he can control the weather.

And Thor is like ‘yeah but I don’t want to tamper with the natural order too much but hey just this once, I’ll do it for you buddy’ but then the STRANGE COMPULSION LINES ATTACK and Thor flies off, Jarvis wondering if his question offended the thunder god.

Hmm. We really did just have four full pages of the Avengers individually reacting to the same thing.

That’s one way to fill out a script.

I mean, it’s probably padding but the Avengers are all engaged in their own downtime thing, except Cap who is the only one who is punching things at the moment.

And I do like to see the Avengers doing non-action things.

Anyway, the Avengers all end up at a Brooklyn scrapyard where Moondragon’s ship is hovering in wait and finally the Avengers put together the dots.

AH of course! The person that keeps messing with our minds has once again messed with our minds! Is so obvious in hindsight!

Iron Man: “Obviously! Who else would have been so arrogant as to invade our minds and manipulate us like toys -- ? Who else but the self-appointed ‘goddess of the mind’? She ought to be made the 1982 Chutzpah Poster Child for this stunt!”

The spaceship shoots down an elevator beam, which is like a tractor beam but it sounds less rural.

I’m not sure how we all settled on tractor beam anyway. Was it Star Wars? Probably.

So Thor and Iron Man want to march up into that ship and give Moondragon a piece of their minds. Thor would fain confront her for this impudence.

Team Leader Janet Van Dyne says belay. Now that they’re not being STRANGE COMPULSIONED she wants to go home and get some clothes.

She managed to salvage a handkerchief from her purse and tie it around herself in a makeshift costume but you know what’s nice? Underwear, sometimes.

Although, it probably speaks to Janet’s fashion sense that Cap sees her handkerchief costume and sincerely wonders if its her new costume. You just can’t tell with her!

Anyway, it also speaks to how hard the Avengers are to lead because Thor and Iron Man and even Cap all ignore Wasp and march right into the elevator beam.

Its like herding cats!

No wonder Cap was happy to give up the job to her.

Wasp also points out that this is possibly a trap and one of them should have stayed outside and Cap is like ‘oh shit you’re right’ but it is too late for any kind of tactical thinking.

Inside the ship though they find no trap and no body. They poke around the ship but can’t find Moondragon or anybody else.

And then when Cap decides they should leave before the ship takes off, Iron Man discovers that the ship has already taken off.

Its a very smooth ride, they didn’t notice at all.

With the Avengers going off on a begrudging space adventure, a hologram recording of Drax the Destroyer comes on and starts narrating about his life.

How he was made to destroy Thanos and then when someone else destroyed Thanos, Drax was kind of left purposeless so he bummed around space aimlessly for a while before meeting up with his adult daughter who was raised on Titan.

Aka Moondragon.

Hey, I don’t remember if I’ve mentioned it on Drax or Moondragon’s previous appearances but they’re family!

Anyway, Drax recording talks about how with Moondragon’s mind powers she opened his mind and helped him find a purpose in life.

Apparently, uh, “seeking knowledge and the bliss of ultimacy.”

Fun family activities, no doubt.

The two of them came upon a war-torn planet where tens of thousands would die in a single battle.

Hologram Drax: “Move to pity, Moondragon sought to help these beings end their strife using the awesome might of her mind! She succeeded! Peace reigns -- yet, there is danger beyond imagining unfolding here! I realize now, that -- wait! I sense someone drawing near! I must end this quickly, lest I am discovered! Hear me! Only the Avengers can prevent the evil to come! Find them! Bring them to this ship! Quickly!”

And then the hologram cuts out. Creepily.

Huh.

So Drax sent the ship to bring the Avengers to help Moondragon. But Moondragon is the one who STRANGE COMPULSED the Avengers to find the ship.

Which is impressive that she can do that from across light years.

I’ll adjust my personal ranking of how impressive she might be next to Jean Gray.

So the situation is dire enough to send an empty ship but also not time consuming enough that Moondragon can take some time out of her schedule to make the Avengers ditch their activities and go on a spaceship ride.

Kinda mysterious.

Wasp even points out how weird this is.

Iron Man: “The computers were programmed to begin the return flight as soon as the ship’s sensors ascertained that we Avengers were aboard!”

Wasp: “But it doesn’t make sense... I mean, the message sounded like it was meant for anybody who happened to find the ship -- yet, Moondragon obviously made sure we’d find it first!”

By the by, I have a random prog rock playlist playing while I’m working on this post AND I’LL TELL YOU! Random prog rock over random Avengers space adventure really works well together.

Anyway, the Avengers only know that whatever the mysterious threat, it must be great to worry someone of Drax’s power.

The ship drops out of hyperspace above an alien world.

Wasp: “Guys, all this is just beginning to sink in for me! We’re zillions of miles from Earth -- ! A-and we’re about to set foot on an alien world -- and I don’t have a thing to wear! Literally! Except this old tarp I found!”

Being Janet is suffering.

I mean, I see spacesuits in the background of that panel.

And its weird that Moondragon doesn’t have a closet aboard her own ship. Although it’d all be capes and plunging necklines.

HEY WAIT speaking of capes, why doesn’t Thor lend his?

He’ll let some little shit of an immortal child wrap up in his cape but he won’t lend it to his good pal and team leader, Janet Van Wasp??

Grow you some manners, Thor!

Anyway, couture misadventures of Janet van Dyne aside. Time to disembark.

The Avengers take the de-elevator beam down, gazing in wonder at an alien world.

Well, Jan does. The others are kind of blase. Fie and poo on them.

Wasp: “It’s beautiful, b-but so strange! Almost terrifyingly strange! I feel the way I felt the first time I shrunk down to insect size -- my lord, this is a whole, new world!”

Cap: “New world or not, this looks pretty much like the town squares do back home!”

Dammit, Cap! Eat some poetry for your soul!

Iron Man comments that being beamed down from a spaceship in the middle of a shopping day is not a subtle entrance but Thor wouldn’t know subtle if it bit him on his cape.

Thor: “Fie! The god of thunder cares little for subtlety! Would that I’d summoned a raging tempest to herald our arrival! I like this not! Why is there no greeting for us? Are we but serfs, left to wend our own way to--”

Thankfully, Jan cuts off his weird monologue (Thor is being particularly goddish right now) and asks a random shopper to take them to her leader.

The alien starts responding in some alien language but partway through the Avengers can suddenly understand her.

She didn’t start speaking English. She kept speaking her native tongue but the Avengers could suddenly understand it like it were English, almost exactly as if the text in the speech bubbles became English.

Because it did. Its a nice little effect.

But its like someone (probably Moondragon) flipped a switch inside the Avengers’ heads to turn the subtitles on.

The alien shopper points the Avengers towards the “temple of the peace goddess” and they head off to there.

Thor comments that if Moondragon is fiddling with the language settings of their brains, then she must be aware of their arrival.

Moondragon, coming down the stairs and looking fab: “Of course, I am aware of your arrival, Thor! There is precious little in this universe of which the goddess of the mind is not aware! Welcome to Ba-Bani!”

Its actually a really good look for Moondragon. She’s still in green and cape and plunging neckline but the style has changed. Its more sexy priestess than sexy space swimsuit and opera cape.

It goes well with the new role she’s apparently taken on Ba-Bani.

She thanks the Avengers for coming which Thor and Iron Man are only too keen to point out that she didn’t leave them a whole lot of choice.

Wasp again tells them that she’ll handle this and tries to tell Moondragon that she’s the chairwoman of the Avengers now. But Moondragon cuts her off to tell her she already knows.

But also, that her thoughts have been with her in the trying times she’s had of late.

This is a kinder Moondragon compared to the one from #211. Wonder whither the change of heart.

Moondragon: “Sometimes, I wish it were not my lot to see most clearly that which is hidden, Janet! I could not help but be aware of your husband’s tragic downfall and the resultant turmoil in your soul, which you hide so well! I have shared your agony, and his! Greater, though, is my pain, for I see that the tragedy is deeper and more ironic than you yet realize -- and I fear it shall only worsen!”

... This is why people hate psychics.

Janet herself can only hurriedly change the subject in the face of this overly comprehensive sympathy.

Wasp: “Um... Drax’s message sounded urgent! Why don’t we discuss that?”

Hah.

So Moondragon turns on main screen to show a hostile army - consisting of the last of Ba-Bani’s warmongers, cutthroats, mercenaries and ravagers banded together - headed towards the capital city which is the city that they are currently in.

Wasp questions if Moondragon really just dragged them halfway across the universe to quell a local uprising.

Iron Man further points out that UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE moondragon the Avengers don’t make a habit to interfere in the political affairs of others. Plus, why can’t Drax handle this? Or why doesn’t Moondragon just mindzap the bad guys?

Iron Man: “Or do you reserve that treatment for those people you claim are your friends -- like us!”

Zing.

Moondragon takes exception to this. For one, she denies having set herself up as a queen or anything. The people of Ba-Bani rule themselves. She merely quelled the global war through a bit of careful psychic prodding and suggestion among world leaders.

Moondragon: “In a sense, I merely improved communications among the world leaders and removed the need for war!”

Drax: “She has saved countless millions of lives already, Avengers!”

For another thing, the peace is still fragile. She has to maintain a constant rapport with said world leaders and influential people to preserve it.

Even as it relies on a careful, selective touch, she says the effort is staggering and she can’t ALSO psychically smack the invading army.

And point the last, she’s only just convinced him that his purpose in life doesn’t have to be destroying and it would be shitty to throw him at violence again and reawaken his destructive nature.

Thus, the need for outside help.

If the Avengers can’t or won’t stop the army, the global bloodshed may reignite and Moondragon won’t be able to stop it again. MILLIONS WILL DIE!

So since Wasp is the chairperson, it falls to her to decide what to do.

And I can’t help but notice that when it comes time to decide whether to intervene in a very foreign extraterrestial conflict, Iron Man finally defers to her instead of her having to yank him back from whatever impulsive thing he wants to do.

Being leader of the Avengers has gotta suck.

Anyway, Wasp decides they’ll stop the immediate threat to the city but after that... well.... they’ll see.

But its a decision Wasp feels weird about because her head is all weird, like her mind is in a fog. She’s sure there were some follow-up questions she wanted to ask Moondragon that she can’t remember anymore.

I’m sure that forgetting what you wanted to ask a psychic is a coincidence and forebodes nothing.

She’s probably just tired.

Scene cut to the aggressive army of aggressors peering at the horizon going ‘hey are those missiles? Can’t be, the peace goddess told them to abandon  weapons.’

SURPRISE, ITS THE AVENGERS

Surprise to them, anyway. If I paused long enough to let you guess, I’m sure you would have guessed the Avengers.

Anyway. I’m pretty sure Wasp is still wearing the handkerchief, although she has managed to tailor it to being less obviously makeshift.

I was about to complain that they didn’t stop and let her get some clothes but. I mean, what are the odds that the local shop contains either clothing her size or clothing that can change size?

Anyway, Wasp still feels weird about the decision to get involved.

Wasp: “I can’t stop wondering whether or not we’re doing the right thing! Moony says she isn’t ruling this planet, yet, she is controlling the destinies of these people! Isn’t that the same thing? I-I’m so confused!”

But since the army does have guns and they are out for blood, she doesn’t have any hesitation to beat them up a little.

Some decent Wasp action, too.

And it’s not just Wasp who has misgivings.

Iron Man also has his doubts, as he picks up a guy in each hand and slams them together.

Iron Man: “I can’t help feeling sorry for these guys! They’re the underdogs! Something’s eating at me about what we’re doing here, but for the life of me -- I can’t quite put my finger on it!”

Cap too. In a specifically Cap way.

Cap: “These rebels are fighting for freedom -- but what they want is the freedom to make war! We’ve got to stop them -- I know that! Still, for some reason, my instinct are screaming that we shouldn’t!”

The only Avenger who isn’t having doubts is (by process of elimination) Thor who is throwing tanks around and doing his best divine smack talk.

Thor: “Beware, base scoundrels -- lest the wrath of the thunder god destroy thee!”

Anyway, misgivings aside, the Avengers aren’t having much trouble actually beating up this army. For the last of the warmongers, they’re not much of a match for a super-soldier, a guy in power armor, an actual god of actual thunder, and Janet goddamn van Dyne.

Like Iron Man said, the evil invading army just feels like the underdogs here.

From a distance, Drax spectates the battle. And notices a pair of rebels closing on Cap from behind. They’re planning to shoot Cap in the back and hopefully that act will let them rally the army against the remaining Avengers.

Drax realizes he could stop them. Or warn Cap. But he feels a strange contentment to just watch.

This must be what being Uatu is like.

The two rebels shoot Cap off his sky-sled. He barely managed to get his shield up to protect himself.

While Iron Man catches Cap from a fateful plummet, Wasp goes after the two who attacked Cap.

Wasp: “Hey! You on the sled -- ! I’m an Avenger, and I don’t think what you did was nice or fair, so I’m avenging it! So there!”

Hey! The team name has a meaning! You did it, Wasp! You named the team Avengers because it sounded cool and then you finally did some avenging 218 (plus annuals and crossovers) later!

Proud of you.

Anyway, Thor catches the two rebels from their own fateful plummet, declaring that they don’t deserve the honor of death in combat.

Then while sort of waving the two like visual aids at the army, Thor demands they surrender.

Thor: “Hear me, armies of the rebellion! Your leaders are my captives! Your cause is doomed! Lay down your arms -- now! I will warn you but this once!”

Army Guy: “We are undone!”

Another Guy: “We surrender!”

Soon, the Avengers return to the capital city, Thor carrying the apparent rebel leaders on a random piece of debris.

Moondragon thanks the Avengers for what they did. She also asks that the Avengers turn the rebel ringleaders over to the city’s civil authority so that they may, in time, be rehabilitated.

She also mentions that Drax has alerted the city’s police to take the other rebels into custody and to destroy their surrendered weapons.

And then she tries to hurry the Avengers along.

Moondragon: “Then, truly, it is over! You have done a magnificent and noble labor this day, Avengers! Father, please make ready my ship! They must be anxious to return to Earth!”

Cap interjects saying that they’d prefer to stay a day or two to take in the sights.

Wasp grouses at Cap speaking for the Avengers. Dangit, she’s supposed to speak for the Avengers!

With but an ellipses of hesitation, Moondragon agrees that the world is new to the Avengers and there’s a lot of stuff for them to see. And says that they’ll leave tomorrow instead.

Nice try, Moondragon. There’s five pages of plot left. Can’t wrap up early.

So then we have a twelve hour timeskip so the Avengers can nap and shower and its off to explore an alien world! With tour guide Drax!

The first thing they learn is that its never nighttime on Ba-Bani! I don’t know if thats a multiple suns thing or an orbit thing but its always daytime.

Janet does not approve.

Anyway, Thor ditches the group because he’s seen a lot of worlds and it just doesn’t interest him. He’s going to find something else to do.

And then the Avengers split up.

Cap wants to mix with the people a bit and Wasp wants to not wear a tarp so they’re headed to the market.

Iron Man spotted some high tech factories and dangit if he doesn’t love industry so he’s going to have Drax take him through one.

And then we skip ahead another hour. Which is a fairly reasonable amount of time to shop, probably.

Janet has obtained Actual Clothes That Aren’t A Tarp.

And because her money is no good here, even if she had any on her, she told the tailor to bill it to Moondragon.

Which is funny for at least two reasons.

The first of which is that I always find it funny when anyone on the Avengers foists their bills on someone else. The second of which will make sense when I cover next issue.

Anyway, mentioning Moondragon makes Cap remember that he wanted to bring her up. His thoughts have been so muddled about it but that’s the real reason why he wanted to stay longer.

Wasp: “Because you suspect that she’s manipulating us -- ? Because you think things aren’t quite kosher here on Ba-Bani? I was a bit slower on the uptake than you, but... I agree! Let’s just nose around a little, shall we?”

She’s not. Unsuspicious.

Cap even has a good idea where to start looking and takes Wasp on the sky-sled to the site of the battle from earlier.

Some guards or police or something have the area blocked off and tell the Avengers that nobody is to enter the area. Especially not the outworlders.

But since these guards aren’t armed thanks to Moondragon’s sensible gun control policies, Wasp tells them to screw off and Cap just flies around them.

Cap hopes to find an escaped rebel and ask them about their cause or maybe examine their abandoned equipment.

It’d take a long, exhaustive investigation to piece things together that way but it’ll be worth doing.

But he doesn’t have to.

Because when Cap and Wasp arrive at the battlefield, they find that two of the workers working to clear up debris are the rebel leaders from earlier.

Convenient!

Wasp: “Pardon me, fellas, but, did you, um, by any chance lead a rebellion yesterday?”

Rebel Leader: “What? Oh, that! Yes! I can’t understand what got into me! I was tending my shop in the city, when suddenly I felt compelled to seize a weapon and come out here! Thousands of others were similarly, mysteriously compelled! Out of the blue, my friend, here, and I became obsessed with the idea of leading this impromptu army in an attack upon the city! Thank the goddess you stopped us!”

So. Yeah.

Where have we heard SUDDEN COMPULSION before as a thing that makes people do things?

I mean, this isn’t exactly subtle.

Moondragon forced an army to form and then had the Avengers beat them up.

The plot thickens.

Meanwhile, Drax takes Iron Man on a tour of a communications center. Ba-Bani has low-orbit anti-grav satellites in the sky for communications and for monitoring the city and its surrounding environs.

Every public event is recorded. For historical and legal matters, surely.

You ever see a villain somehow monitoring something and thought ‘wait how did they have a camera there?’ WELL BA-BANI HAS YOU COVERED!

THEY HAVE EVERYTHING MONITORED!

For example, Iron Man punches up a video of the battle from yesterday and specifically to the moment when Cap was ambushed.

Iron Man: “Say... I hadn’t realized how close you were to us, Drax! You were right on top of us! You must have seen the ambush developing! Why didn’t you do something -- or even just yell ‘look out!’”

Drax: “I -- I don’t know...”

Iron Man: “I can’t believe you just stood there watching while Cap was almost cut in half! Drax, we’ve been in scrapes together before -- that isn’t like you! What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Drax: “Nothing! Nothing! I am fine!”

The hallmark of someone truly fine, shouting that they are fine.

Or just saying that they are fine.

Does ‘I’m fine’ even mean what its definition meaning means anymore? Does anyone use it sincerely?

Anyway, Iron Man decides that ‘I’m fine’ means ‘I’m not fine’ and that Moondragon has been messing with his head.

And by ‘his’ I could mean either Drax or Iron Man. Because Iron Man has felt his thoughts muddled lately too.

Its a bit of a trend.

But Drax refuses to believe it. Shouting that its not true; his daughter wouldn’t do that.

While one of the people manning the communications center just kind of stares at this argument.

Because. It does sort of draw attention. Drax is making all kinds of dramatic poses and Iron Man marched over to grab him by the shoulders.

(I think communication console woman is wikipediaing Drax because pictures of him are showing up on all the consoles)

Iron Man: “You ‘know’ what she wants you to know! She controls thoughts! How can anyone really be certain whether he’s thinking what he wants -- or what she wants? She can make us think, say, or do anything, and we wouldn’t even realize it! Even this could be her manipulating us -- but I don’t think so! I know there’s a limit to her power! She can’t have her attention everywhere at once! Pray it’s mostly elsewhere for now and listen to me while we have a chance!”

So maybe Moondragon is distracted and that’s why Iron Man is coherent enough to have this conversation. But what could she be distracted by?

Well, scene change to the temple of Moondragon and Thor arriving at it.

Moondragon: “Thor! I had hoped you might come!”

Thor: “Spare me your guile, woman! You knew I would come -- for ‘twas you did plant this ‘whim’ in my mind, was it not?”

Moondragon: “Yes... it was!”

Thor: “You are less subtle than I’d imagined, woman!”

Moondragon: “Deliberately! You are a god, Thor! I need practice no subtlety upon you!”

Thor accuses her of having taken total control of this world and to Thor, Moondragon admits it.

But she has a good excuse.

Moondragon: “Behold, Thor! This city is alive -- ! Fresh with gardens and music and the laughter of children! When I came here it was a blood-soaked battleground! I brought peace to Ba-Bani! I made this! Have I done wrong?”

Its a tough question. Because psychic mind control isn’t really real and moral philosophy is also probably made up.

On some level, a society is going to put restrictions on people for their own good. Like seat belt laws or food safety standards. But on the other hand, Moondragon is controlling people’s thoughts.

Is it right to do that for a good cause?

(X-Men sure as hell hopes so with all the psychics running around in those books. Sheesh.)

But Drax did not think it was right.

Per the hologram recording and also Moondragon’s confession here, Drax sent the ship to get the Avengers. She wasn’t able to stop it so she expedited the Avengers finding it so it seemed like she was in on it.

Then she staged a fake revolution for the Avengers to crush so they could leave satisfied that they had done a thing.

She also put Drax under her strict control after he sent the ship.

Moondragon: “There! You know now the sum of my ‘guile,’ Thor! I’m relieved to be confessed, for gods should have no secrets between them! We should be closer... It is the role of gods to set aright the paths of lesser beings! ‘Twas ever thus! My labor is difficult... and lonely! I need your help... and your comforting touch...”

Thor: “Moondragon... it is not good to tamper overmuch with the natural course of things...”

Moondragon: “But this once -- ? For my sake...”

Thor: “For... your... sake...”

Moondragon: “Love me, son of Odin! Be thou mine!”

Thor: “Aye... thine...”

Dammit, Moondragon! If you’re using mind control to make Thor love you, don’t be doing that! It happens to him far too much!

Every damn enchantress on Asgard for one!

So on the one hand, Wasp, Cap, and Iron Man are wise to Moondragon’s shit now.

On the other hand, Thor seems to have been seduced to her corner.

And on the third, ambiguous hand, Drax who seems like maybe he’s on the fence. Maybe Iron Man just needs to shake him some more.

Next time sure is going to be some kind of WAR AGAINST THE GODS!

According to the big pink words, anyway.

Hey. Psst. There’s a SUDDEN COMPULSION to follow @essential-avengers​ and to like and reblog this post. Weird, huh? Maybe if you listen to that SUDDEN COMPULSION you’ll get to go on a space ride to space. No promises.

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: Young Ian, Rachel, Denny, and Dottie walk into a bar. 

I Heard You’re In Town

by @ianmuyrray

“Ian, oh my goodness!” Her voice pierced through the sound of the pub crowd, generally jovial, celebrating the game on TV. Ian felt a pair of arms wrap around him and hug him tightly.

He turned towards her on his stool, dropping his phone onto the walnut bar. “Hey R--”

“Dots, this is Ian, my friend,” she interrupted, her voice a little loud for how close they all stood. “I met him when we were both assigned to Bahir Dar, a year or so ago.” Rachel grinned wide, her eyes brighter than usual. “We both worked in the OR.” Her dark hair was pulled into two loose buns with flyaways that framed her face, a familiar hairstyle of hers, and she wore a white t-shirt and jeans.

Ian looked at Rachel appreciatively, even as he tried to hide his surprise -- and his joy -- at seeing her again. “We did.” A grin spread across his face despite himself, and he felt warm, as if he was out in the Ethiopian sun with her again, stealing rides in the agency’s Jeep and browsing marketplaces during downtime. She’d changed in the last six months, but only a little. She’d lost her tan, and maybe her hair was a little longer. She was more relaxed, too, free of the urgency and strain of their rural medical encampment.

The blonde woman in a dress next to her stuck out her hand. “You must be the Ian,” she said, dodging Rachel as she tried to elbow her in the ribs.

“The Ian?” he asked, intrigued. He took a sip of his beer to hide his pleasure. When they’d both returned to the States after their assignment, they’d fallen out of touch.  

“It’s nothing,” Rachel said quickly. “This is Dottie. She’s thinking of working with MSF, too. Has an interview.”

“A humanitarian, are ye? Congratulations,” he nodded to her, “For what position?”

“RN.”

“Ye look unsure.”

“I’m not--”

“I think she’s a bit frightened--” Rachel said, interrupting.

“I’m not!”

“--but like I keep telling her, she’ll do great. My brother is a reference, and you know how MSF fawns over him, she’s a shoo-in.”

“Ah, Dr. Hunter. Denny. How is he?” Ian asked, remembering her brother’s friendliness and his ability to make difficult decisions very quickly. Ian had once been part of the team to execute those decisions as a nurse who assisted in his surgeries.  

“Oh, he’s fine. A bit tired. But when is he not?” Rachel laughed.

Ian turned to Dottie, trying hard not to think about how close Rachel stood to his knee and how her eyes sparkled in the pub lights. “How do ye know Denny, Dottie?”

“I--”

“She’s only met him once,” Rachel cut in. “I introduced them.” She turned to the bartender and ordered a round of beer for the three of them.

“And ye think that will get past the powers that be? They’ll let all of ye work together?” Ian clicked his tongue, pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to slip into an easy-going conversation with her, despite their time apart.

“No,” said Rachel, not looking at him as she plopped down on the stool next to him. He swiveled so his body angled away from her. He hadn’t expected to run into her here and felt unprepared. She powered on. “But not only is Denny a reference, he’ll actually be there at the interview.”

“What?” Ian and Dottie asked at the same time.

“Mm-hm,” hummed Rachel, taking a sip of the beer that had been brought to her, as if she had all the time in the world to respond to their surprise. “He’s attending the interview. Well, perhaps not exactly,” she said, reconsidering, “but he might… pop in.”

“What? You’re kidding!” Dottie rounded on Rachel. Clearly, there was a history there that Ian wasn’t aware of, and he watched the pair closely.

“Well,” Rachel hedged, casting about for an explanation. “I thought you guys hit it off really well the last time you saw him, and thought, you know, it might be convenient to…” she trailed off, met Dottie’s eyes, and flinched. “Dottie, you know you liked him! When you met him, the last time he was in town. God, you guys couldn’t keep away from each other.”

Red in the face, Dottie sputtered as if to deny it, but Ian saw her laughing at herself.

“Oh, you don’t?” asked Rachel, knowingly. “It wasn’t you, then, constantly asking me why I think Denny followed you on Instagram? It wasn’t you that asked me why he might’ve liked this post or that, and who, at one point, wanted to know if it would be appropriate to ‘pop in’ to the coffee shop he said he was at when he was working on that paper? Or how to exactly word your text messages to him when you finally got brave enough, hm?” Her voice rang with certainty, nearly shouting now. She exploded into a burst of laughter at Dottie’s horrified face. “You should see yourself, Dots, you’re smitten! Smitten kitten! Isn’t that right, Ian?”

“Rachel, be chill, for Christ’s sake!” Dottie exclaimed.

Rachel turned to him, her face radiant with laughter and the teasing of her friend. “Don’t you think so, Ian?” she asked again when he didn’t answer.

“Well, I…” Ian hesitated, his eyes darting between Dottie’s anguished embarrassment and Rachel’s sparkling hilarity. “I can’t possibly know.”

Rachel sighed, her mood swiftly changing to something wistful. “Denny and Dottie… You guys would be so perfect together. And we’d be sisters!”

“Rachel,” Dottie hissed, though she smiled wide. “Hush, you’re ruining this.”

“So let me get this straight,” Ian said, leaning back on the bar now. Dottie still stood in front of him. “You both flew all the way from North Carolina to New York, just to feign interest in MSF, just so you can hook up with Denny?”

Both the women looked at him with disgust.

“How dare you, I am a nurse that cares--”

“Dottie is very good at what she does--”

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He rolled his eyes at them and switched gears. “So if you were to get in, where would ye want to be assigned?”

“Well,” Dottie said, “it doesn’t really matter to me. But I’m fluent in French so probably somewhere in Northern Africa, like Niger or something.”

“Mm, or Haiti,” he added.

”Wherever they need me, I’d be happy to work.” Dottie grinned, and Ian saw how the blonde hair, pale eyes, and soft features might strike someone like Denny. “I’m not an OR nurse like you guys; I don’t know how you stomach all the blood.”

“I don’t know how you stomach how your patients can still talk to you,” Rachel quipped, eliciting a startled laugh from Ian.

“There’s blood in your work, too,” Ian said to Dottie, happy to have an excuse not to look at Rachel. She was humming quietly beside him. He was attuned to her like he always had been, like something shimmered in the air around her that only he could see.

“Yuck, but not that much.” She made a face before she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Oh my god!” she gasped, immediately showing the phone to Rachel, who grinned mischievously.

“Yes!”

“What?” asked Ian, feeling a bit dumb.

“Denny,” the women breathed together, their heads bent over Dottie’s phone. Their faces glowed in the light from the screen as they tittered together.

“It buzzed, just now,” Dottie said breathlessly.

Rachel grinned. “That means he was thinking of you!”

“Of course it does, Rachel, don’t be silly, he can’t text me and not be thinking of me.”

“Oh, Dots! You and Denny! It’s really happening!”

“Nothing is happening, Rach, will you quit it?”

“‘Nothing is happening’? You can’t be serious.”

“But what does it mean?”

“What’s it say?” Ian cut in, unable to help himself.

“‘Dottie, I heard you’re in town, I’m in town too,’” Dottie read. She paused. “That’s it.”

“It means he’d like to see you,” replied Ian. “He knows you’re here for your interview.”

“It does? But he doesn’t say that!”

“Er, no.” Ian grimaced. “But Denny’s like that. Awkward, a bit.”

Dottie rounded on Rachel. “Why does your brother have to be so weird?” she nearly wailed. “Rachel, how on earth am I supposed to respond to this?”

Rachel gave an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know, don’t ask me.”

“He’s your brother!”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to flirt with him. He’s my brother!”

“You keep pushing us together, and now you won’t help me? Rach!” Dottie looked terrified, Rachel amused.

“Alright, alright.” Ian held up his hands as if he were surrendering. “I’ll help. Gimme.” He made a grabby motion for the phone, and Dottie handed it over.

“Do ye want to respond to this like a booty call or no?” Ian asked, his thumbs poised over the keyboard.

“Booty call?” Dottie asked.

“Well…” He nodded his head toward the front of the bar, where two large windows shone darkly in the night, streetlights were lit, and brake lights at the nearby stop light reflected on the glass. “It’s late. Do ye want to see him tonight?”

Dottie’s eyes flew wide. “No!”

Rachel laughed. Ian loved that sound.

“Aye, okay. Let’s see, then. We’ll be cool and casual.” Dottie and Rachel stood at either shoulder, their heads bent conspiratorially together. “‘What a funny coincidence,’” he narrated as he typed, “‘that we should be in the same city at the same time. What should we do about that, do you think?’”

“Send!” Rachel squealed and Dottie groaned, even as she laughed.

“Fine, fine!” Dottie grabbed the phone and sent the message along without bothering to glance at it. She saw Ian’s surprise and shrugged at him. “Why not?”

Ian laughed. “Glad I’m of some use.”

“You’re of use,” Rachel said, and even in her playful correction, her face was soft and appreciative as she looked at him. She was standing very close to him now, and he nearly backed away with the shock of realizing it.

“What’s this?” Dottie asked, her eyes darting back and forth between them.

“Nothing,” Ian and Rachel said together, but too quickly. They both looked at each other and laughed. Ian felt the strange impulse to embrace her, but he held back, fearing the awkwardness that could so easily spring between them.

“It’s nothing,” Rachel said again, placing a hand on Ian’s arm, the touch so brief he might have imagined it. “C’mon, Dottie, we should go.” She glanced back at Ian. “I’ll be in touch,” she said to him. “See you soon?”

She was still standing close to him, perhaps she had stepped even closer without him realizing it; he could feel the warmth of her, even in the crowded bar. Maybe it was just the beer. “I’ll be here.”

She smiled, and he wanted to kiss her, but before he knew it, she was gone as quickly as she had arrived, tugging an astonished Dottie away by the elbow.

Later that night, when Rachel was tucked into the starchy sheets of her hotel bed, her phone lit up with a notification that made her heart leap: Rachel, I heard you’re in town. I’m in town, too.

[dontshootmespence]

Watch Me

A/N: This takes care of my “decision changes everything” square for @cmbingo. JJ’s confession changes everything, but the outcome will be different per my interpretation of the finale.

Chapter 1 Here

Chapter 2

It’s so easy.

Why do they make it so easy?

All it takes is the ‘fuck me eyes’ and the promise of little sex and they’re in the palm of your hands.

Benjamin Graffa. What an idiot.

His eyes slipped over her like smooth silk, just a little too tight – like a vise. But it was Cat who had the vise on him…because he’s an idiot.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she cooed. “I can see it in your eyes.”

His eyes widened, astonished at her perceptiveness. “It’s a wonder you ever got caught honestly.”

Cat flashed him a tight-lipped smile – somewhere between ‘that was just a mistake’ and ‘if you bring anything like that up again I’ll kill you where you stand.’ “So what is it?”

“I’m seeing someone outside the prison,” he said, tone clipped as he gauged whether or not he was about to meet his end at the hands of a woman more than half a foot shorter than him. Quickly, he added to the statement in the hopes of saving his ass. “Don’t get me wrong, you are…fantastic,” he said luridly, imagining their last tryst out of sight of the cameras, “But a man’s got needs and-“

“I don’t care,” she laughed. “You wanna get a little ass on the side that’s your business. I just need you to work with me. Feed me the information I ask for when I ask for it and you can drown yourself in whatever gutter skank you want to.”

He didn’t appreciate her calling Mary a gutter skank, but fear kept him quiet. “She works for the Bureau actually.”

“Tell me it’s no one on the BAU.”

“No, she works with Violent Criminal Apprehension Program.”

“Wonderful, she might end up being useful.”

Shaking his head without any forethought, he spoke, “No, leave Mary out of this. She’s been through enough. Don’t touch her.”

“I won’t. I’ll just kill you. If she can get the information, you live, if she can’t you die. Clear? I know that self-preservation instinct will work to everyone’s advantage.”

Benjamin huffed, relenting out of that instinct of self-preservation. “Fine. What information do you need?”

“I need her to keep track of the goings on in the BAU, specifically with Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jareau. Work schedules, general mental health, family lives, the whole nine. No piece of information is too small. And this shouldn’t need to be said, but keep my name out of it.”

“That’s it?” He asked. He thought Cat would want some kind of file or something that would require hacking she didn’t know how to do. This seemed simple enough.

Nodding, Cat smiled as she began to pace the floors of her cell again. “That’s all Benjamin. You can go now. I have some thinking to do.”

-

In the week since seeing Cat, everything felt different. Maybe it was all in her head, maybe something actually was different in the day-to-day life she shared with her boys, but all she could put her finger on was that she remained on edge. Every kiss shared with Will felt false and strained. Every kiss to her boys’ heads felt like it could be the last. Every step she took within her own home brought dread – like stepping on a mine, knowing it, and not being able to move for fear of implosion. Like being back in Afghanistan, but even worse because there her family was safe from impending doom.

After slipping on a suit that gave the illusion of power without any of the reality, she headed downstairs to kiss her boys goodbye before heading into work. She’d gone in earlier than normal every day to try and look into Cat, but so far nothing had come from it.

Henry and Michael sat at the table eating cereal before school with no knowledge that possible death sat right outside their door. She lingered with their morning kisses, ruffling Henry’s hair a little more than she would normally before turning to Will. “I’ve gotta run. I love you,” she said, leaning in for a kiss.

Will returned it in kind, gently grabbing her wrist when she turned around to leave. “JJ, you okay? You seem sad lately.” He knew something was wrong, but she wouldn’t, no couldn’t, put him even further into the line of fire.

“I’m good,” she replied, knowing for certain that her husband could see through the lie. “Just a lot going on at work.”

He remained unconvinced, but she would talk when she was ready. “Okay. I love you, JJ.”

“I love you, too.” More than she could ever truly put into words.

-

If only she could see her own micro-expressions to learn to better control them. Sitting across from Spencer as the team indulged in some rare downtime together, she found herself fully conscious of what emotions she was wearing on her sleeve. Each time she looked at Spencer, she felt her stomach turn, knowing what she would need to do if she couldn’t break down Cat’s plan in time. He’d been through so much and knowing that she would have to be the source of further pain made her heart sink – but there wasn’t enough to time to dwell on things with the case that just came in.

Car accidents in broad daylight were followed by the driver dying at the wrong end of a gun and seemingly no connections between the victims. Though they had a basic profile, pinning down a motive was nearly impossible.

The day that followed gave them more questions than answers, leaving them scratching their heads as it seemed the unsub, Casey, was having his strings pulled by someone else. Murder by proxy. But why? What was this other unsub’s motive in all this?

No matter how much they searched for a reason, they couldn’t find one – until Garcia dug deep enough to realize that all the victims had been connected by a case that took place eight years prior. In a game of truth or dare gone wrong, four people died and the unsub had been at fault, now going after anyone and everyone that had anything to do with putting him away.

The judge was the next logical target. JJ and Reid were paired off and sent in the opposing direction of Luke and Rossi when they passed her car and the madman behind all this. After getting out of prison, he was getting his life together, so what made him spiral into a killing spree?

Even sitting at the wrong end of his gun, neither she nor Reid could figure that one question out, until JJ decided to play his sick game and asked her name. “Agent?”

“Jareau.”

“Jareau,” he parroted with an heir of familiarity.

He knew her. This was Cat’s ace in the whole.

“What’s it gonna take for everyone to getting out of here safe and sound?”

“It doesn’t work like that!” He screamed. 

JJ shook with fear and anger and an insistent feeling of stupidity that she’d walked directly into Cat’s mousetrap. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t give him the answer he wanted – the answer Cat wanted. Every time Casey demanded her truths, she tried. Tried to get him to believe that there were only four people she trusted in this world – Spencer, Emily, Will and Aaron. As much as the thought made her insides vibrate, she used the baby she’d lost in Afghanistan to try and send him on a different path than the one he was barreling down.

But he wouldn’t take it. Even her best poker face couldn’t fool him in this moment.

Finally, she willed the words to enter her mind, stumbling over them as they spilled from her mouth and the tears streamed down her cheeks. “Spence…I-,” she started, biting back bile, “I’ve always l-loved you.”

Despite Spencer’s genius, JJ had always been able to read him well, but in this moment she couldn’t place whether he did or didn’t believe her; she prayed he didn’t. Confusion and sadness plagued his features, but where they stemmed from she didn’t know and no matter how this affected their relationship, she would never be the same for having hurt him.

For a second, Casey seemed to be appeased by her confession, but when she stared down the barrel of his gun once again, she wondered whether this was the last thing she’d have done with her life – killed her boys and forever altered her relationship with her best friend.

A gunshot rang out and it took her a moment to realize that Spencer managed to cut the tape around his wrists to grab his own gun.

Normally, a gunshot to the heart meant the end of it all, but this time it was only the tip of the iceberg.

-

Time. Time. Time. All she had was time. Although it was infuriating on a level that she couldn’t even imagine, she needed the time to pound into Casey’s head that he was wronged by the system and needed to exact some revenge. Getting him in here was the easy part. Though short, their time together was full of angry sex and a devotion on his part that had her running in the opposite direction.

She spent nearly a year convincing him, but she finally managed it. Their previous visit was cut short by one of the guards she hadn’t succeeded in pulling into her pocket, so today was about the plan.

“I don’t care what you need to do, who you need to pull into this to make this happen, but it needs to happen exactly as I’ve said. Are we clear? Jareau and Spencer are the ones that need to be at the scene. Clear?” She asked emphatically.

Nodding, Casey asked the one question he’d been keeping back since she contacted him out of the blue. At first it mattered her reasons, but now he wanted to know. “Why are you doing this? Why these two?”

Her sparkling eyes scared him, but there was something else there besides malicious intent.

“When Spencer had his hands around my throat, I wanted him to kill me. At least then he’d have to live with killing a pregnant woman, but he didn’t. He didn’t because JJ stopped him! And then they took my little girl!”

Anger vibrated within every muscle. The fact that she’d been pregnant was astonishing. Cat had the femme fatale vibe down pat, but a mother she was not. “You never wanted kids. I wanted all that with you after I got out of prison and you said no way.”

“I carried that little girl with me for nine months. Maybe before I hadn’t but after that…she was mine, and they took her from me. She’s more than a year old and I don’t even know what she looks like!” She screamed, the rage in her voice drawing the attention of Benjamin, who was thankfully the guard on duty at the moment. “Are we clear with the plan?” She needed to regain her composure.

“Yes. I’ll get it done and stick it to all the fuckers that put me away at the same time.”

“Good.”

Without another word, he left Cat to stew. Far gone didn’t even begin to cover it – and he didn’t dare cross her now.

Meanwhile, Cat screamed herself hoarse, an image of what she remembered of her daughter’s face fading into oblivion and replaced with the picture of the two agents that ruined her life falling apart at her hands.

@queenanneslace4 @stunudo @illegalcerebral

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 37

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS:  Sun Yee Lok contacts Madame Cheung with a new client that he wants her to take care of.  She is ready to test the waters with Claire Beauchamp’s pulling power, and outlines her plans for her new protégé. This can only mean that she will be used in some valentine capacity.  Claire contacts Jamie with the name of the client that Madame Cheung wants her to entertain, however, James Fraser is not going to let that happen despite what his superiors declare.

Life in Section One is always compelling and none more so that when a target is returned for interrogation at the hands of Section One’s strategist and second in command Madeline. No one is given a second chance and her methods of extorting information are terrifying but successful. THANK YOU for your support of this story of intrigue with our two heroes who live in this clandestine world where there is a continual dichotomy between what is right and wrong and the methods that Section One uses to achieve the eradication of terrorists.  Previous chapters can be found ... https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

 CHAPTER 37

Madame Cheung was extremely pleased with the progress she had made with Claire Beauchamp over the past few weeks. Her attitude had been both receptive and totally embracing of everything that she had taught her hence she was very impressed. The girl was a quick and willing learner and there had been no need to use the normal drugging procedures to convince Claire of her responsibilities to her new life … unlike with many of the other girls who had failed to understand what was required of them. Madame Cheung was convinced Claire was relishing the circumstances that would see her have a lifestyle that would bring her admiration and riches. To her mind, it was also highly possible that Claire would become a jewel in the Rising Dragons’ crown as she was a model student. Sadly, however, Madame Cheung had thought Annalise de Marillac would be that woman, but that was not to be. Although the two women were similar, Claire Beauchamp was very different from Annalise. She was savvy and smart as well as being exceptionally beautiful and a woman with her looks would indeed be an asset for the triad. Claire had been open to all instruction thus far, and Madame Cheung was ready to test the waters with her new recruit to the business as soon as possible. It so happened that the very situation she’d been looking for would arise quicker than she thought possible and from none other than her leader Sun Yee Lok. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Lost in her thoughts about her new protégé Madame Cheung was oblivious to her private telephone ringing in her office. The incessant buzzing eventually registered and broke her from her ponderings. There was only one person who ever used this number and he only used it when something important had arisen. Composing herself Madame Cheung reached for the handset and answered.

“Hello?” “Ah, Madame, my dear … it is good to hear your voice.”

“And you too honourable one.”

“I hear you have been a busy woman.”

“You have eyes and ears everywhere it would seem Sun Yee.” “Yes … Nothing much escapes me if it affects the Rising Dragons. Oliver Chan was all you said and more.” “Thank you ...” She smiled at his compliment for he very rarely gave one. “His recruitment to the Rising Dragons has been most beneficial.” “How did your meeting go with him in Shanghai?” “I was impressed. He will prove to be a useful liaison for us.” “I agree. He moves freely without drawing attention to himself. He can be ruthless yet discreet at the same time.” “Exactly!” “I know our clientele. I am very thorough.” “Yes… you are!” He stated admirably. “I believe Chan is reaping his rewards in Shanghai as we speak.” “He must be enjoying himself ... I haven’t heard from him for a while,” she laughed. “Well I did give him two weeks downtime.” Knowing that the leader of the Rising Dragons always had a second motive for contacting her, Madame Cheung changed the subject then asked, “What can I do for you?” “I have a very important new client coming to Hong Kong next week who I would like you to take care of.” “His every wish will be fulfilled … of that you can be sure.” “I knew I could count on you Madame.” “Who is it?” “ Le Comte St. Germain.” “Ahh … I have heard of him … say no more. He will be taken care of in the best possible way. Does he have any special requirements?” She added reading between the lines. “Yes … as a matter of fact he does.” “I will take care of it. I have the very girl.” “Good … I knew you would!” “Will you be joining us too?” “Possibly … I haven’t met this St. Germain in person and I would very much like to see if he can deliver the goods.” “I’m sure if he is satisfied with what we can offer then he will be most amenable to a working relationship with the triad.” “Yes … I agree ... and with you in particular Madame Cheung.” “Interesting. I look forward to meeting him. You know that your favourite girl will be available sir if you do decide to pay us a visit.” “Hmm? … Perhaps I just might do that then Madame. We’ll see.” “Thank you.” Replacing the receiver into its cradle Madame Cheung sat back in her chair and smiled satisfied at the fortuitous turn of events. Sun Yee Lok’s request was just what she’d been looking for. The fact that her leader wanted this person taken care of in the best possible way during his visit to Hong Kong was beneficial too, plus he’d indicated that he may be of interest to her. This had certainly set her imagination to thinking. What was Monsieur Le Comte St. Germain involved in that would be mutually beneficial to her business as well as to the Rising Dragons? A wry smile bowed her lips as Madame Cheung finally realised what Sun Yee Lok’s underlying message was. Indeed, she was the one who could make his stay as comfortable and pleasurable as possible. She knew exactly who she would use. It was time and Claire Beauchamp was ready. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ As Jamie worked at his desk, Operations’ voice echoed in his office summoning him to the Perch. “Fraser? Briefing ... my office.” “Okay.” Some minutes later after finishing off his debrief, James Fraser closed down his computer, left his office and made his way to the Perch as summoned. Given the nature of her undercover mission, Jamie knew that eventually a large percentage of Claire’s Intel about Madame Cheung’s affairs would play right into Madeline’s hands. It was inevitable that when it did, she would be waiting for such an opportunity to profile a new mission for her. So far there had been little Intel that could place Claire in jeopardy, however, there were no guarantees of avoiding the situation should it arise. Perhaps a situation had already arisen and Operations had called him to the Perch to go over the Intel on the situation thus far.  If this was the case, then Jamie knew his leaders had most likely already reached a decision on what they wanted Claire to do. Hence it was just a formality that he’d been summoned there at all. Purposefully climbing the stairs, James Fraser quietly entered the perch. Madeline and Operations were deep in conversation when he entered. Ever the stealth operative Jamie cross the threshold of the Perch without his superiors knowing he was there and  it was only when he spoke that they realised he had indeed entered Operations’ office.

“You wanted to see me?” At the sound of his voice, both of them stopped and turned to see their Level 5 operative standing resolutely with his hands clasped loosely in front of his body. “Yes,” Operations replied matter of factually. Madeline stood quietly to one side while Operations began to relay what Claire had discovered about her hostess. “Claire’s connection with Madame Cheung has been eventful to say the least. While at her hideaway, she has been able to gauge significant Intel on the businesses that she runs for the Rising Dragons.” “Good. Did she get what we needed?” “Not quite. She still has no Intel to pin point where the leader of the Rising Dragons will next surface and has been unable to shine any light on his whereabouts as yet.” “And Chan’s Intel was flawed.” Madeline added. “I see.” “Claire’s Intel on Madame Cheung, however, has been excellent so far. It appears her influence is more widespread than we first thought. She oversees exclusive Escort establishments in Hong Kong, Singapore and Thailand for the Rising Dragons, but this may just be the tip of the iceberg. We are yet to ascertain the depth and breadth of her dealings in prostitution in South East Asia.” While they had Jamie’s undivided attention Madeline stated, “Despite what Madame Cheung told Claire about her exclusive Escort Service catering for the upper echelons of Asian and European moneyed society … although in part it was indeed true … Fergus has found out that her establishment actually provides for all their pleasures … no matter what … if the price is right.” This intel was jarring to him, but Jamie merely replied with his stoic blank stare. Looking directly at him, she continued … “While some escort agencies provide non-sexual services only, many turn a blind eye to escorts who provide additional sexual services or actively encourage them. Madame Cheung is one of those that do encourage fostering a deeper relationship … for it is then that she gains power over the client and this in turn is the Rising Dragons’ bargaining chip.” “Blackmail?” Jamie surmised. “Yes.” Operations answered. "The death of Chen Wu on the junk was part of this prostitution scheme. Vulnerable women who are dazzled by the thought of making a lot of money for themselves are more than often drawn into a business they have no hope of ever leaving.” “Now that Annalise de Marillac is dead, Madame Cheung is grooming Claire to take her place.” “Claire is the key?” “Madame Cheung trusts her Jamie... that’s why she will do whatever it takes!” Interjecting Madeline further clarified, “She will do what she has to do. We all do. You don’t have to like the job. You just have to do it. Section One is the most clandestine organization on the planet. It's our job to bring down the criminals and terrorists that no one else can get.” James Fraser did not blink an eye as Madeline imparted all this confrontational information as to the real purpose of Madame Cheung’s business. He knew that any profile she had planned would surely involve a Valentine type mission for Claire. However, this was not acceptable for him.  He was already drawing up possible scenarios in his mind. Even though Claire was on a deep cover mission she would not valentine herself … of that he was resolute.

Meanwhile ... back at Madame Cheung’s

The conversation that had just transpired with her leader played over in Madame Cheung’s mind. Undeniably, she did have the very girl that could entertain Monsieur Le Comte St. Germain and she was certain that Claire would do whatever it took to captivate this new client. Confident in her protégé’s ability to carry out this challenge Madame Cheung summoned her so that she could outline her plans. Reaching for the phone she said, “Lee would you ask Claire to come here please?” “Yes ma’am ... Right away.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Madame Cheung sat at her dining room table, working on her laptop when Claire entered the room and joined her. “Ah! … Good … You’re here.” “Madame ... You wanted to see me?” “Come in Claire … Yes … I have some good news.” “Good news?” Madame Cheung removed her glasses, rose from the table and ushered Claire to the more comfortable wing chairs overlooking the garden. “Come … sit down, I will explain.” Claire took a seat opposite her as she continued. “You've done a great job my dear in redefining who you are since you came here, and I am extremely pleased with the progress we have made.” Madame Cheung beamed at her indulgently. “Thank you ...” “You have far and away exceeded my wildest expectations. That is why I believe you are ready to put all of your training into practise. I have a job for you,’’ she informed her enthusiastically. Without flinching a muscle, Claire engaged in eye contact with Madame Cheung. “Thank you for the vote of confidence … but are you sure Madame?” “Most definitely … you have been my star recruit Claire. You’re more than ready my dear!” Claire could barely hold on to the fixed smile that crossed her mouth as Madame Cheung continued. “I have had a request from my illustrious leader. Come … I will describe your duties for next weekend.” Looking at Claire, she smiled contentedly watching for her reaction. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “... she will do whatever it takes!” Standing at ease in the Perch, Jamie gave the appearance of complete attentiveness to what his superiors were saying. However, his thoughts centred on the conversation Claire had with Madame Cheung when she’d asked specifically about her duties. Given what Madeline had conveyed, this was especially significant in his plans to keep Claire out of harm’s way. “Will I be required to have sex with these men?” “That decision is for you alone Claire, you may choose to do so or you may not. It is entirely up to you. However, having said that, from time to time there are special requests from some of our clientele, but no one is forcing you to do anything against your free will.” Obviously, this was Madame Cheung’s ploy to soften the impact of any proposal she may put to Claire. The first couple of times she would not be required to go further than required, however, Jamie knew this would not last forever. Claire may eventually be backed into a corner and put into a situation without compromise. She was in trouble … he knew it … Operations knew it and Madeline knew Claire may soon have her baptism of fire at long last. Internalising this last piece of information, Jamie also knew that Claire could be in some danger especially if Madame Cheung pressed the envelope for her to oblige her clients every wants and needs. Madeline’s voice prattling on brought Jamie back to the present as she confirmed what may be required of Claire. “… This form of prostitution often shelters under the umbrella of these exclusive Escort agencies, who supply attractive escorts for social occasions.” “Is this where Claire fits into the scenario?” Ignoring the interruption but with a look that spoke volumes, Madeline continued cognizant of the effect her words were having on Jamie’s psyche, “… Madame Cheung’s customers call her agency … and the act takes place at the customer's place of residence or more commonly at his hotel room. Given the clientele that are believed to be on Madame Cheung’s books … this is not beyond the realms of possibility.” Then, raising her eyes towards Jamie while watching for a response, she asked, “Would you have a problem with that James?” His blank stare gave nothing away of his inner turmoil and replied, “No.” “I suspect that at anytime now Madame Cheung will require Claire to entertain clients that use her services. This could be at her residence or elsewhere by special arrangement. When this happens we will be able to make a move on her and Sun Yee Lok at the same time.” The wheels of motion were turning in Jamie’s head at the thought of what awaited Claire and how he could diffuse the situation for her. “Do we know any names on her clientele list?” “No … Not as yet. The Rising Dragons receive a considerable amount of money from this “business” venture. It is well into the millions of dollars. These are influential men who procure the services of women from Madame Cheung, and many hide under the protection of diplomatic immunity to avoid detection. Some may even be members of the Rising Dragons Triad ... perhaps even Sun Yee Lok himself also.” “It would appear that Claire has ingratiated herself into Madame Cheung’s confidence and trust. As a result, it is crucial that she stay there a while longer,” Operations insisted. “We also need to know who Madame Cheung’s clients are and how they can lead us to Sun Yee Lok. I want results!” “Yes ... Claire is in the perfect deep cover position to infiltrate the enemy long term,” Madeline replied, closely watching for Jamie’s reaction while at the same time twisting the knife a little deeper into his heart. “I have been working on her profile parameters for this continuing mission.” Speaking with authority, Operations indicated that he too, was not open to challenge on Claire’s mission profile. “I agree. Claire will remain with Madame Cheung as long as it is necessary to complete her assignment.” Then looking decisively at his Level 5 Operative he ordered, “That will be all for now Fraser. You may go.” “Thank ye.” Turning without a single glance towards his superiors, Jamie made his way from the Perch and walked towards his office. Meanwhile  ...

Claire returned to her bedroom and sat on the bed somewhat stunned with what Madame Cheung had just told her would be required for her “first” assignation. Sighing, she briefly shut her eyes then leaned her head back against the pillow deep in thought. She knew who to contact and immediately activated her small Comm. unit to Channel C. “Jamie?” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ In the confines of his office, Jamie sat at his desk rubbing his chin and tapping his fingers on his desk.  Deep in thought, he worriedly stroked his skin back and forth, until the sound of Claire’s dulcet tones in his ear roused him from his thoughts. “Sass-en-ach?” he answered softly. “Jamie ... Madame Cheung has a new client coming next weekend that she is grooming me to entertain as a personal request from Sun Yee Lok.” “Do ye know who it is?” “Yes … Le Comte St Germain.” “Has she outlined what she wants ye to do?” “Yes.” There was silence from the other end and Claire plaintively repeated his name. “Jamie? I can’t do this!” “Do Operations and Madeline know of his visit?” Jamie replied hearing the entreaty in her voice. “Not yet … but I will have to inform Section of this connection to Sun Yee Lok.” There was a little hesitation before she asked,”What should I do?” “Don’t worry I’ll think of something mo ghràidh,” he reassured her knowing how much of an anathema Valentine missions were to Claire. “Give me one hour.” “I will.” James Fraser set the wheels in motion … but first he needed to know who this Le Comte St. Germain was. “Let me check out the target first before ye tell Madeline and Operations.” “Okay.” She hesitated a little before severing the communication and said, “Jamie? ... I miss you.”

“Me too.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The sound of silence was deafening in two separate locations as two Section One operatives both did what they had to do.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued