#but my research has concluded that he mostly stood around saying things

[kazz-brekker]

me googling what thrawn was up to in the ahsoka tv show and being sorely disappointed

[magic-hcs]

Yoooo, I must say I adore your writing. I read the one where the boys have an argument with their S/O and end up hurting them… I was wondering if we could get a fluffy ending to that… 👉👈

Thank you so much! I'm happy you like my writing! And thank you for being so patient with me and waiting for so long. It's not really a fluffy ending, but an open ending instead with a positive outlook, I hope that works for you as well.

Since most people voted for Charon's part when its finished instead of waiting, I'll be doing that now, but don't worry I'm still working on the others.

You can find part one with Charon here

Charon; Underfell Papyrus

warnings: Hurt/comfort, and i think that's it?

Time to cast some magic and see what we'll get!✨

✨✨

Charon: After the fallout between you, Charon hasn’t seen you in months. More accurately, he has avoided every single place that you could possibly be at like the plague. (If he couldn’t avoid it, Charon would make sure to go only at certain times when he explicitly knew you wouldn’t be there.)

He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes after what he had done. Unjustly done to you.

And stars did he regret it…

But from that altercation between the two of you there came forth a single silver lining: It was the catalyst for Charon’s decision to go see someone who could help him see what had gone so wrong with the relationship, and how he could learn to better adapt to the surface world. After a few days of research Charon concluded that seeing a therapist would be the best course of action. 

It had not gone as expected…

The first frustrated him to no end, the both of them as the therapist said; “there was no click between us, and thus I believe it is best for us to part ways.” And so they did. Really, the only useful thing the first one provided was the fact that Charon could simply try with a different specialist. That sometimes, it took a few tries before he would find the right professional.  Well, luckily, Charon is nothing if not persistent.

The second one wasn’t it either. The third was down right racist! (speciesist?) So that was a hard and firm No. 

The fourth however, was one Charon was currently satisfied with. She didn’t make him feel stupid, she treated him with respect and in Charon’s opinion knew what she was doing and talking about. Thanks to self reflection - and her helping him find sources that taught him more of the surface world - Charon learned and realized what had gone wrong between the two of you. Learned how to better cope with his issues. (his therapist had told him it was called trauma and very normal for people and monsters to experience after what he had gone through. Charon still has trouble accepting that having them doesn’t make him weak.)

 

Few more months passed and Charon finally felt comfortable enough to go to the places you go to as well. Not fearing the possibility of running into you by chance. (Mostly because now he was prepared. He now knew where he stood, what he would do and say were he to see you again. (Having practiced role plays with his therapist pretending to be you.))

Charon was prepared.

Until he literally bumped into you and stood face to face with your scowl in the park. 

You were not happy to see him.

His nonexistent throat and mouth suddenly became very dry. He can’t help his red eyelights that automatically get drawn to your throat - remembering he had grabbed some part of you in that general direction - subconscious searching for any more but finding none.

You go to turn around when Charon finally finds his voice again. 

“You Were Right.” 

You halt your footsteps. Wide eyes staring at the floor. There was a crack in the voice, a slight air of desperation was in there as well. But it was the clear, open sincerity and especially the remorse that threw you through the hoop the most.  

You took a glance over your shoulder just to make sure that it was really him who said it. 

“What..?”

Charon isn’t standing straight and alert like a soldier would - like you were used to him doing. His chin isn’t pointed to the sky. He’s standing there, almost timid. Eyelights are still directed at you but he’s practically bowing his head slightly down. 

“You Were Right.” He repeats, and you can hardly believe it. 

“I Was In The Wrong.” He added. There was genuine sadness and remorse shining inside his eyelights. And you had never seen him open up like this before.

Despite your mind telling you no, despite your heart that still aches when thinking about him, when looking at him. Despite it all, you give Charon the chance to speak. You would hear him, but that was the only thing you would do.

The two of you had taken a seat on a park bench and Charon had started off with apologizing (although awkwardly.)

He wouldn’t let you try to apologize as well  - even though Charon obviously took the altercation too far, you were to blame as well in your opinion - requesting you to listen until he has explained everything. And you let him. Begrudgingly thinning your lips together.

Charon explained he had been going to a therapist, he’s been unlearning his learned behavior that doesn’t work on the surface, and been working on bettering himself. He conveyed his regret on what he did and how lashed out at you - that he hadn’t meant what he called you and said to you - staring at his hands all the while.

You were happy for him that he was working on improving himself, you said as much. You also accepted the apology but made it clear you didn’t forgive him yet nor felt comfortable continuing your relationship where you left it off.

Charon had broken your trust, your heart, and it wasn’t easily repaired, if at all. 

He had been very understanding of your notion. 

“I’ve Burned Bridges, I Broke Your Trust, I Destroyed A Lot Of Things. But If You Let Me, I Would Like To Start Over Again. Earn Your Trust,” Charon speaks and it’s in a respectful way. It’s different from the way he used to always demand things. Maybe he really changed…or at least is working to change.

“I’ll Accept Whatever Answer You Give me. You Say Yes And I’ll Start Right Now. Say No And This Will Be The Last Time You See Me In Your Life.” There’s a slight tremor in his voice. It’s obvious what he wants to hear from you. He hopes for it, longs for it, you can see it in his eyelights.

But it doesn’t make you feel pressured. 

You ponder over it for a moment or two.

You take a breath. There’s only one way you can answer this right here, right now.

“I need some time to think about it.”

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction.

[generouspeachheart]

I find it hard to find someone like you

So, I wrote something... I was reading a Spencer Reid x reader fanfic, listening to Doja Cat and this popped into my head. This is my first fanfic, so please be nice. This is supposed to be an introduction aka Chapter 1 of a story i want to write. Enjoy, i guess! If anyone has any feedback, feel free to message me!

Summary: Spencer and Y/N are both pinning after eachother. Spencer is ready to confess his love, Y/N is too. What they don’t suspect though, is Y/N’s dark past to creep up on her.

Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Pinning. If i missed any, let me know!

Words:1,971

When Hotch announced to the team that the case is officially closed and we were free to go, you were exited to say the least. You hadn’t been feeling your best for the past couple of days. You had a huge fight with your mom and have been trying to get over The Crush. This crush you have on Dr. Reid isn’t the smartest thing, but you can’t help it. Every time he stars talking about something ultra -interesting regarding the case you’re currently working on, he apologises for his ramblings and doesn’t finish what he started. And every time you say Go on I wanna hear what you have to say, he would flush his cute little cheeks and stutter through the rest of the ramble. He sometimes brings you coffee in the morning and when you’re flying on the jet for a case, he always starts up a conversation about some classic he noticed you were reading or knows you had read. He was just the sweetest little thing and you couldn’t help falling for him. But, as you had been a rather new addition to the team, you thought that this was just simply how he was. Until you talked to Garcia.

“He totally likes you!” she screamed in your face one night after a particularly bad case. You sometimes invite her over just to help you sleep better or to just gossip over wine; take your mind off the case. “He’s like that with everyone…” “Y/N.. you don’t actually believe that?” You look down at the floor. “Oh, you sweet little thing. He is definitely not like that with everyone.” “Okay, I’ll humor that. But still, we have a super nice friendship and I don’t want to ruin that. What if he doesn’t like me as much as I like him and just considers me a close friend?” ”Y/N…” ”Could you please drop it Pen, I don’t wanna talk about this right now.” “Sure thing, Boss Lady.”

“Alright, who’s up for a drink?” Derek asks as he turns to the team, pointing fingers at all of us. Emily nods. “Boss Lady?” he asks you. ��I think I’ll have to pass.” “No, but you’re so fun!” cries Emily. “Sorry guys, I can’t I have…” “A date?” Derek asks. “Yep” I say smugly. you notice out of the corner of your eyes, Spencer quickly packing up his stuff to avoid looking at you. “If you can call a bottle of wine and an easel a date.” Spencer raises his head at that. “That’s too bad, Pretty Lady.” “See ya tomorrow, beefcake!” You stand up to leave and wave to all the others as you get to the elevator. “Goodbye everyone.” The others murmur a goodbye to you as well. As the elevator door close, you hear a voice call out. “Hold the door!”. You’d recognize that voice everywhere. It’s the voice you dream of after all. You hold the door and Spencer goes to stand next to you. “Thank you Y/N.” “You’re welcome Spencer-nova.” He looks down at the floor, smiling. He’s quite fond of the nickname you gave him. “So, got any plans for the rest of the evening?” I ask, striking up a conversation just to hear his voice. “Well, I was planning to do some more research on The Cross-Cultural Perspective but after this case I think I’m just going to reread ‘Great Expectations’.” You smile at that. “You know, I did a thesis on that.” “The Great Expectations?” That gets a laugh out of you, which makes Spencer’s soft lips turn into a big grin. “No, on the Cross-Cultural Perspective.” “Oh, I didn’t know that”. He looks surprised. Almost too surprised.

Of course Spencer knew you did a thesis on that. He read it. Seven times. When he heard you were coming to work for the BAU, he went through all of your academic achievements. He just wanted to strike up a conversation about something you are interested in, because usually you talk about his interests. “Yeah, back in college.” “Maybe I should read those then”. “Maybe I should read them to you some time”. Spencer breath hitches. He wasn’t expecting you to propose such a thing. He was delighted by the idea, but his brain couldn’t really catch up with his mouth. “Um…do you…I mean you could…I would… l-like that, I would like that very much.” The tips of his ears turn pink. Bingo. You have successfully flirted with Spencer. Go you! This wasn’t the first time you flirted with Spencer. You have tried many times but to no avail. Even if he would get flustered, he thought you were simply joking, and that that was just how you treated everyone in the team. I mean, you call Derek beefcake, so he just assumed you were joking. Besides, why would someone as smart, gorgeous and extroverted as you want to flirt with someone like Spencer? That just didn’t make sense. But you had been acting strange for the past couple of weeks, following, what he assumed to be, some sort of a fight. He didn’t know whether this fight was with a friend or with a family member, but your eyes just seemed sad. You would zone out sometimes and Spencer got worried. So it was nice to know the jokes were back. Even if your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

As the elevator doors to the garage open up, you turned to Spencer. “We’ll see what we can do about the reading, Dr. Reid. Until then, have a good night!” you say, turning around to get to your car. “Good night to you too, Y/N!”

______________________________________________________

A couple of hours and glasses of wine later, you stood in your living room, ‘Streets’ by Doja Cat blasting from the speaker, and a brush in your hand, you heard a slight noise from the bedroom. Paying it no mind, you went to the kitchen to get a bottle opener, coming back to you living room to finish mixing the paint. You empty the bottle of Rose, and start mixing the colors together. Grabbing the now finished glass bottle, you throw it in the air so when it lands back in your hand you’re holding the neck of the bottle. You turn around quickly, the bottom of the bottle colliding with the head of a bulky man, dressed in all black, who had broken into your apartment through the bedroom window. Amongst many things that made you spectacular, was the way you pay attention to your surroundings. You were able to point out even the slightest of changes in the air. “Who the hell are you, and why are you here?” you demand, taking out the handcuffs you took from the drawer in the kitchen and putting in on mans wrists. He didn’t provide an answer. Then you heard a knock at the door. Bending down and taking the gun you keep under your coffee table, you get to the front door. Opening the door, with your hand on the trigger, you see Spencer. He sees the gun before he sees you and puts his hands in the air. “Spencer-nova? What are you doing here?” You ask, opening the door wider, signaling for him to come in. “What’s going on Y/N? Are you okay?” not answering your question. “I’m fine, someone tried breaking into my apartment.”

________________________________________________________

Some time later, the suspect sat in the interrogation room, handcuffed to the chair he was sitting on. “I’m only going to ask you this once, fucker” You say, opening the door to the interrogation room, slamming your hands on the table. “Who do you work for?” “Why do you think I work for anybody?” “Oh, so the little piggy talks, huh? That’s a relief.” “I don’t work for anybody, I just broke in to steal your stuff. I wasn’t expecting you to be fucking James Bond.” “So, you’re telling me you just happened to come across my apartment, and decited to break in?” “Exactly!”

“He’s telling the truth.” Hotch concludes as you exit the room. “Are you sure? Because it doesn’t seem random to me.” “As far as I can tell, he was there to steal something from you.” That doesn’t make sense. Why would he break into my apartment just to steal something? He could’ve waited while I’m not home to do that. I work 15 hours a day, that would definitely be more sufficient. “Were going to arrest him for attempted robbery but that’s about all we can do for now. If you have anything else, run it by me.” “You got it, Boss”

“Hey Y/N, you got anything?” Spencer asks, seeing me ending the conversation with Hotch. “Nothing, no. But it still seems weird.” Spencer takes a look at you as you go to the elevators. Hotch requested you go home and deal with this tomorrow. And since Spencer lives somewhat close, he was instructed to stay with you tonight, seeing as he’s also the one who drove you to the station.

Spencer just now noticed how good you looked tonight. Your hair was in a messy bun, you wore a simple black T-shirt with a name of, what seems to be, a rock band on the front. You had on a long, flowy black skirt and an oversized silky white shirt. You looked absolutely stunning.

With the adrenaline wearing down and the alcohol you consumed coming back to you, you felt really tired. The drive to your apartment complex was mostly quiet, excluding the radio which was playing a familiar song softly. “Look, you don’t have to stay tonight. You live a block away anyway, ill just call you if I need anything.” You couldn’t bear Spencer being so close to you tonight. But he wanted nothing more. He didn’t want to leave you alone, especially not after what happened tonight. He was worried. He wanted to protect you. He opened his mouth to disagree but as he saw the way your eyes were closing and he couldn’t help but shut it. Tonight wasn’t the night then. He wanted to check up on you after you were acting weird the whole week. Surely you would call him if you need him. You’re a grown woman, you can take care of yourself. “Let me at least walk you to your door. Check if there’s anyone else there?” “Fine, Spence, you can walk me to my door.” As much as you didn’t want him there, your heart couldn’t help but flutter at the proposal. That man would be the death of you.

“There, no ones here. You can go now.” You felt bad for making him go home after he was instructed to stay, but you just couldn’t. Sleeping in the same apartment just knowing there is a slight possibility you could be sleeping next to him, cuddled up in his arms, could kill you. Exiting the door to your apartment, Spencer turns to look at you. He extends his pinky finger towards you. “Promise me you’ll call if you feel unsafe?” You hook you pinky with his. “I promise, Spence.” Even the slight contact with your skin makes Spencers heart flutter. He unhooks his finger and starts to walk away, towards the exit. “Hey.” The softness in your voice makes him halt. Turning around he sees you, slight smile on your lips and your hands behind your back. “Thank you, Spence. Thank you for…you know…caring about me.” “Of course, Y/N. And don’t worry about it. I’m here.” As you wave goodbye, the small smile on your face pulls at Spencers heartstrings. He wishes he said what he came over to say to you.

As you close the door, you walk up to your coffee table, opening the bottle of wine, you sit on the floor, your back to the sofa. Why couldn’t you say what you really want to say?

[sunflowerandco]

After the Fact: Act III

Rating: T just ‘cause it is.

Act I

Act II

-3 years after Act II-

          Courtney arose to the sound of her persistent alarm. The morning sun poured all of it's essence into the city that morning. She stretched her legs under the covers, her thighs still sore from the night before. The alarm sound gave Duncan enough consciousness to drape an arm around her followed by his groggy words, leaving her trapped.

          "Good morning, Princess." He pulled her in closer and she felt her heart jump out of it's own slumber, causing her to smile instinctively.

          "Duncan... I need to start getting ready for class." She pulled on his arm enough to wake him, freeing her from his hold.

          She slowly trudged into the bathroom to brush her teeth, and soon she heard his own alarm go off for work. He appeared in the bathroom mirror and plopped the toothpaste filled brush in his mouth.

          Their conversations, while mostly unintelligible, were an occurrence whenever Courtney stood over at this place instead of her dorm room. They spoke over the toothbrushes in their mouth.

          "Hungry?"

          "Mmhm"

          "Eggs?"

          "Sounds good to me."

          Their brushes were put back in the holders one after the other. Courtney made her way back into his bedroom, looking through his drawers, and Duncan sat on the foot of the bed.

          "Okay. Perfect. Now if I could just find a shirt so I don't have to walk around here naked."

          Duncan truly couldn't help what came out of his mouth after seeing his girlfriend in front of him in this state. "I wouldn't mind that at all."

          She turned back to see him gazing at her in amazement, and her cheeks began to glow in scarlet red. "It never turns off for you, does it?" She turned back before Duncan responded.

          "As long as you're around, no."

          Courtney scoffed at his comment. She found a shirt of his, and underneath it was a plain, black book with Duncan's name on it. She took it out along with the shirt and draped the shirt it over her body. She held it up when she questioned him. "What's this?" Duncan studied it before answering. "Oh... it's my sketchbook."

          "Your sketchbook? I haven't seen you draw in such a long time. Can I see?"

          "Yeah, go ahead. I, uh, just started seeing designs around town, on busses. I just got inspired to make some of my own."

          She flipped through a collection of completed sketches all equipped with detail and color. She had seen his notebook doodles, but they didn't compare to the amount of effort and skill these drawings took. She looked at him in awe for hiding such a gift. "Duncan, these are amazing. You have true talent."

          Duncan said nothing as Courtney flipped through each page.

          "Have you thought of becoming a tattoo artist? You love the shop right down the street, the artists even know you by name."

          "I always have, but I'm better off sticking to the repair shop." "Why not stick to something that I know can pay me?"

          She looked up at him, her hands firmly placed on her hips. "Duncan-"

          He took the book out of her hands and placed it on top of the drawer. "I'm gonna go start on breakfast."

          Courtney watched him walk out of the bedroom until one footstep grew fainter than the last. She couldn't help herself as she inched closer to the sketchbook. After eyeing her messenger bag at the foot of Duncan's bed, Courtney swiftly grabbed the sketchbook and wedged it in between her laptop and textbook before heading to the kitchen.

          "So, what are you in the mood for?" Duncan asked from the refrigerator door. "Omelet, scrambled?"

          "I think we can do omelets today. But, I have to go to the library as soon we're done. I barely had time to study last night thanks to you."

          Duncan closed the door and faced Courtney, ready to fire back. "Oh, I'm sorry. I could've sworn it was you begging for round two?"

          "Shut up!"

          "I will once you admit it!"

          Courtney grabbed the carton from him and started cracking eggs into a bowl. "No, you won't."

          "Very true." He smiled as he got started on greasing the pan. "What are you doing after class?"

          Courtney shuffled through a list of things she could tell him that were far from the truth. "I...have a...Debate Guild meeting after my classes."

          "Okay. As long as you come back here tonight."

          Courtney questioned Duncan as she got closer to him. "For what?"

          "I thought we could just have a night in?"

          "Just like last night?" Courtney asked, smirk on full display.

          "I've got a few ideas." He snaked an arm around her waist, and the gap between them diminished when he pulled her into a slow, drawn out kiss.

          Afterwards, she opened her eyes and Courtney swore she saw the sun shine brighter through the windows of his apartment.

                                                         ***

          Courtney took a deep breath and eyed the sketchbook in her bag. She took a minute to button up her blazer and before walking into the tattoo parlor.

          You've got three years of pre-law under your belt, Courtney.

          She opened the door to see this open space of creatives in a room adorned with huge windows. She was thrust into an array of stations dedicated to each artist, some were occupied by clients and some empty. Her heels stood out as each step made its rounds on the wooden floors.

          She walked up to the front desk and approached a rather young guy. He didn't look old enough to work at the shop.

          "Good Afternoon. My name is Courtney Álvarez, and I'd like to speak with the owner of this establishment."

          Without saying a word, he got up and entered a room behind him. She turned away from the desk to take in the view from the outside, before hearing a voice from behind the desk.

          "Hey? We in trouble or something?" Courtney's attention diverted when her eyes met a petite woman covered in tattoos.

          "No, nothing like that." Courtney handed her a business card with her name and number on it. "I assume you're Anya Tremblay."

          "I've heard this name somewhere..." She looked up from the card and at Courtney. "Oh, you're Duncan's girl. He talks about you a lot. You are exactly like he described."

          Courtney decided to take that as a compliment before continuing her introduction.

          "Right now I'm not his girlfriend. I'm his... advocate." Courtney smiled before reaching a hand out to shake Anya's.

          Anya shook her hand with skepticism. "Advocate?"

          "Yes. I'm very passionate about cultivating his interests to render them beneficial to his life." She reached for the sketchbook in her bag with a few color coded sticky notes attached to certain pages.

          "Now, you may know Duncan as a regular to your shop. However, he's also your potential new artist." She held the book out on her arms facing Anya, opening to the first page she highlighted.

          "See here.” There pictured was a fully rendered sketch of a compass drawn in the usual Traditional fashion. “Duncan’s well versed in Traditional. I've witnessed him drawing in class since we were in junior high.”

          Anya looked pleasantly surprised as Courtney flipped through various pages. Some of the same style Courtney highlighted at the beginning of her presentation of Duncan’s work. Other drawings included skulls drawn in the style of realism. Courtney closed the book to begin her closing arguments.

          “To conclude, Duncan has immense potential. He’s passionate, young, and strong-willed. You’d be missing out on this city’s next best artist if you turn him away.” Courtney hoped Anya had questions, which was always a good sign.

          Anya’s stoic stance remained, but her voice seemed communicative. “Has he worked on skin before?”

          “No. That’s actually where you come in. Duncan’s a pretty fast learner. And, with your extensive knowledge and history in American Traditional he’ll do just fine.” Anya looked inquisitive after hearing Courtney's counterargument.

          “How do you know I do Traditional?”

          “Your Instagram profile is public, you’ve done some of Duncan’s sleeve, and I’m pre-law." She placed a hand on her chest, gesturing to herself proudly. "I do my research.”

          Anya's voice returned to a tone with incredulity. “How did you guys even manage to find each other?”

          “We’re more than just what’s on the surface. Any more questions?”

          "One more," Anya answered. "Why didn't Duncan apply for the apprenticeship himself‽"

          "Duncan's apprehensive at the thought of taking a chance on his dream job, but that doesn't mean he isn't capable-"

          “Alright, alright. Tell him to give us a call. Tomorrow. 10AM.” Anya made her way back into her office.

          Courtney triumphantly strutted her way out of the shop when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Duncan's name flashed on the screen. She answered, sounding more enthusiastic than she meant to. "Duncan! Hey!"

         Duncan caught on to her tone. "Hey, babe. You sound like you had a pretty good meeting."

         She quickly remembered what she told him that morning, and followed along. "Oh, yeah! I... won the practice rounds! So, anyway, what's up?" 

         "Think you could pick up the takeout I ordered from around the corner on your way back?"

         She looked to her right to see the restaurant right down the street. "I can do that. See you soon."

         His tone indicated he was smiling. "Okay. I love you."

         "I love you, too."

                                                            ***

         Courtney called for her boyfriend as she closed the apartment door behind her. She was still undoubtedly giddy, and she couldn't wait to deliver the news about his interview. "I'm heeeere! They gave us an extra egg roll because-" She stopped in her tracks to see Duncan quietly standing in front of what used to be an empty corner of his apartment; now adorned with an ambient glow of warm fairy lights. She slowly placed the takeout on the table, gradually making her way toward him. "What is all this?"

         "This is for you." Duncan stepped out of the way and Courtney noticed a white desk decked with two bookshelves of the same height. Some of the books she'd leave at his place were on the shelves. Her voice grew soft as she struggled to find words. "Duncan..."

         "I thought you'd want a good place to study here for when... you move in with me?"

         She pulled him into a hug, burying her face in his chest with Duncan placing a hand through her hair. 

         "Duncan, I'd love to live with you, but I don't have job, I can't pay rent-"

         "It's not about rent, Princess. I can afford this place on my own. All you need to do is study your ass off." He lifted her head up by holding her face, possibly in the gentlest way he'd ever done. His fingers ran through her hair once more. "Move in with me?"

         Courtney took Duncan's arms to interlock her fingers with his, their hands turned down to the floor. She tilted her head up toward him and leaned in, their eyes closing slowly before Courtney lightly pressed her lips onto his, and slowly elongating with every draw of her lips. Duncan returned with warm and vehement intent while his hands broke free of their joining. His arms instinctively pulled her in by her waist; close enough to have their bodies one against the other. Courtney lost her breath at the pull, and her hands found their way around his neck. She felt a warm aura gleam to her core before slowing the pace enough to stop. She repeated herself one more, but with assurance in her words.

         "I'd love to with you, Duncan."

         Duncan felt lighter at her change of heart given his reassurance. He couldn't wait for days with her to be his new normal. He reveled in the idea of coming home to her sitting at this very desk, buried in her work. Or welcoming him into open arms on the couch. And dinners with her after such a long day. He quickly remembered the takeout on the table. He figured now's the time to start these memories. "Wanna eat some takeout?" Courtney nodded, just realizing how hungry she was. His hands dropped from her waist and she made her way back to their little round dining table just for the two of them, and he realized how formal she was dressed.

         "Do you always dress this fancy for meetings?" Courtney froze before she remembered how excited she was to tell him about his chance at his dream job. "Actually, no. I wasn't at a Debate Guild meeting today." Duncan walked closer to the table, still confused. She retrieved her bag to show him she had his sketchbook. She couldn't hide the elation in her voice even if she tried. "I went to Anya's shop, showed her your work, and she wants you to be her apprentice."

         Duncan truly couldn't believe her words. "What?"

         Courtney began to repeat. "I went to-"

         "No, no I heard you. I just- How?" When realization hit him, it grew harder to hide his grin.

         "I didn't do anything! It was your work that got you in. It wasn't hard to make a great case with strong evidence."

         "Courtney, you didn't have to do all that for me-"

         "Well, too bad you feel that way," Courtney countered as she wrapped her arms around his torso. "Because you have a girlfriend who loves and sees the best in you, and a phone call scheduled for 10AM tomorrow."

         Duncan looked down into her eyes with incredulity, and his arms made their way to her waist as well. He couldn't take moments like these and his girlfriend for granted. "You're unbelievable." 

         She smiled, still proud of the both of them. "I like to keep you surprised in more ways than one."

         "How can I ever repay you, Princess?"

         She teased him, recalling his words this morning. "I've got a few ideas." She giggled lightly.

         They parted, sitting in their respective seats at their table, in their commitment to making more memories together.

A/N: HI!!!! I hope you liked it if you made it this far! Let me know what you think. See you in act iv!

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Soldier - Part 15

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, gun violence. 

W/c: 2.9k

A/n: I’m double posting for @kalesrebellion​ because she called me out. So here you go babe. Also, I did an embarassing amount of research trying to come up with the basics for the serum. But I concluded that this is fiction and it doesnt really matter. But if you’re ur a science major and this doesnt make sense please dont come for me lol

There are moments in your life that define you. Moments you look back on after everything and wonder, if you had listened to your gut, maybe it would be different. This was one of those moments. Bucky’s world shattered around him as Natasha’s words rang through his comm. 

“We’ve been compromised, Buck. I’ve been hit. They got Y/n.” Her voice, broken and solemn. 

No. 

Dammit, NO.

This isn't how this was supposed to happen. This was an easy job. Only a few Hydra agents resided in this compound. The whole thing felt like a dream. One he was completely and utterly unprepared to handle. How could he let this happen. He should have been there. 

“Dammit. What's your location? I'm coming to you.” He shouted. His blood began to boil and he heard your heavy breathing on the other side. You were running. “Y/n, please come in. Please, doll. Where are you?” Bucky hated how broken he sounded. He knew the rest of the team could hear his begging, but he didnt care. He couldn't. He just needed to get to you. 

“You always were a fighter. Right till the bitter end.” A man’s muffled voice came through his comm. He didn't recognize it as anyone he knew, but there was something familiar about it. A distant memory he couldn't quite piece together. Before he could speak, your voice broke though, a small whisper shattering his heart and sending him into a blind rage. 

“Bucky” You breathed, choking on a cough. 

“Y/n. I’m coming to you, doll. Don't worry, I've got you. I’m going to get you out of this. Don't worry, I’m coming.” He pleaded, but was only met with static, and then finally silence. The rest of the team kept quiet, waiting for any kind of sign of life from you. When none came, Nat spoke up. 

“Guys, we gotta get out of here. They've set off a security alert, this place is going to blow in three minutes.” Her voice was now back to its usual tone, but Bucky knew better. She was scared, he could hear it.  “ There’s no sign of her out here. She’s just… gone.” He could hear that she was running now.

“Bucky, we gotta go.” Steve spoke from beside him. Bucky’s head snapped to his friend, eyes wide and body still frozen. 

“We can't leave. Not without her.” He all but begged. 

“You heard Natasha, she’s on her way.” He paused, “Nat, you got the files?” He spoke into his earpiece, motioning Bucky to follow him to the entrance they had come through. 

“Yeah, I have them. Thanks for asking by the way. I’m great, two more bullet holes in my gut, but yeah, files are more important.” She scoffed, causing Steve to roll his eyes.  “I’m headed to the entrance right now.”

“No, I’m not leaving without Y/n!” Bucky tried to pull away from Steve, but he was stronger. A fact he would never admit to the guy, his head was already big enough. 

“She’s not here Buck. They wouldn't blow the compound with her in it.” He persisted.

Sam’s voice interjected, “Jet’s fired up, you guys better get the fuck outta there. We have less than a minute.” 

Bucky and Steve ran through the dark hallways together until they almost slammed into Nat’s small frame. He gasped when she appeared in the hollow moonlight. Her face was contorted in pain, something he was all too familiar with. Guilt.

“I lost her. I’m so sorry, it was my job to-” She broke off into a sob. Bucky wanted to agree. Yell that if she was a better agent- a better person his girl would be coming home with them. But he couldn't... This was on him. He knew it was a bad idea to bring you on the mission. He deserved all the blame. 

“She’s not dead. Not yet anyways. But we will be if we don't get out of here.” Steve yelled over the alarms blaring in the hallway. 

Bucky and Nat both nodded, and followed Steve across the field. Before they could reach the jet, the warehouse behind them rumbled before letting out an earth shattering explosion, sending the two of them flying into the ground. Without hesitation, Bucky grabbed Natasha's hand and pulled her from the ground. He wrapped her arm around his shoulder and all but dragged her body onto the jet. 

“Vision’s been alerted we need medical. He’s been staying at a safe house in Munich. We can be there in thirty minutes.” Steve spoke urgently, rifling through the cabinets of the jet looking for the first aid kit. 

“Seriously guys, it's a flesh wound. I’m- Ah!” Nat screamed in pain as the jet hit a spout of turbulence. 

“Like you were saying.” Wanda smirked, placing her hands carefully on Nats' wound. Her hands glowed a deep red as she tried to relieve the pain. The spy’s face relaxed, but only for a moment before she was back to worried. 

“He’s alive, Buck.” Nat spoke, and when she did, he could hear the fear in her words. 

“Who?” Steve demanded, but Nat’s eyes stayed put on Bucky’s. 

“Tommy. She said his name in the hallway. It was him, Buck. He’s not dead. He’s the one that shot me, the one that took her.” Nat flinched in pain as Wanda's hands fell from her side. 

“That’s not possible.” Bucky shook his head. “Steve found my mission file. I killed him. I remembered it. You just don't walk away from that.” 

“Well, clearly you do.” Nat spoke sarcastically, pointing to the gushing holes in the body. 

“So Tommy’s alive? And he’s Hydra now?” Wanda asked, suddenly realising her hands were not on Nat’s wounds anymore. She placed them back silently apologising. 

“And he’s got Y/n.” Bucky added, his jaw clenched in anger. 

“We’ll get her back.” Steve spoke. He placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder which he quickly shrugged off, pacing back and forth through the small aircraft. 

“I know we will. And i’m going to finish the fucking job and tear that prick in two.” He seethed, mostly to himself. 

He tried to focus on the task at hand. Desperately brainstorming how to get to you, but his mind was spirling. How could he just leave you? How could he have been so stupid? The sound of his name leaving your lips echoed around him, only fuling his growing rage. 

“All our tactical suits have hidden trackers in the sleeves. We will hear it go off, but until then we wait. They cant have gotten far.” Steve started as the jet began its descent. “We're almost at the safe house. We’ll track her from there. In the morning, we’ll head out.”

“Morning? That's too long. She could be-'' Bucky cut himself off, too broken at the thought to finish that sentence. “I’ll find her myself tonight.” He grumbled. 

“Oh no you don’t. We’re a team, Buck. We do this together. Vision will be able to enable her tracker. But we need to work together. We can't lose anybody else to impulse decisions.” Steve scolded. 

He knew his friend was right but it didn't make it any easier to agree. All Bucky wanted to go but get you back. Keep you safe and never let anyone touch you again. He tried to keep his distance before, he really did, but that was out the window now. There wasn't a chance in hell he was leaving your side after this. As for the man that ripped you from his grasp, oh boy… He tried not to make a habit out of fantasizing murder, mostly as it resulted in the Winter Soldier coming out of the shadows, but if that was the case with Tommy, so be it. Only when Bucky stood in a pile or carnage and gore and blood would he finally feel peace again...

“We're coming up on the safe house. Y'all ready to bail?” Sam's voice tore Bucky out of his thoughts, and thankfully so. He was sure it was leading to a very destructive path. 

“Buck, help us get Nat inside. Wanda and Sam - sweep the area, make sure no one has followed us. I’ll fill Vision in on what's happened and see if he can turn on Y/n’s tracker now.” Steve commanded as he hopped out of the jet. 

“Can you stand?” Bucky asked, dipping down to tuck Nats arm around his shoulder, helping her up. She nodded reluctantly, wincing in pain as she moved. 

The safe house was a small cabin in the middle nowhere. Munich was only a few minutes down the road but the thick coverage of trees that surrounded the cabin made it feel secluded and hard to be spotted from above.  If they weren't followed, no one would ever know they were here. 

Bucky helped Nat inside, letting Steve and Wanda take over once they were through the door. Before he could enter, he stopped, taking a moment to gaze upon the sun rising over the mountains. In a few hours, he’d be with you again. He just had to make it until then, and pray to whatever god would still have him, that you were alive. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Продолжай копать. Нам надо её найти.” Keep digging. We have to find it. The voice rang in your mind, waking you from the recurring nightmare. Visions of Tommy and that boyish smile that once brought so much happiness.. His voice, the way it used to say your name, now only causing you ache. 

“Wait, rewind there! Вернись. That’s it.” The voice spoke again, echoing around the room. You opened your eyes slowly, taking in your surroundings, but all you were met with was darkness. You could feel movement around you, but the blindfold tied around your eyes masked their faces. 

“I’m positive she told me what was in that serum.” His voice caused your heart to just about leap from your chest. You knew that voice anywhere. 

“You better be right. You're as good as dead to me otherwise.” Another man spoke. 

“No I’m sure. Wait! Right there. Replay that part.” Tommy asserted. 

Suddenly a headache burned through your temples, scorching the inside of your eyes. You screamed in pain as it coarsed though your body until an image appeared in your mind. It replayed over and over, making you dizzy. 

“Whatcha doing?” Tommy cooed, taking a seat on your desk. 

“Just trying to find the right components.” You spoke, not taking your eyes microscope as you examined the petri dish below. 

“Cummon, baby. You've been at this for hours. Come eat something.” You looked up, Tommy stood there with that big goofy smile you loved so much. 

“I’ve almost got it. Just a little longer.” You reassured him, rolling in your chair and picking up another sample and analysing it. 

“What exactly is, it?” he asked, emphasizing the word. 

“If I mix the steroid with-” 

Another shrieking jolt of pain seared through you as the memory disappeared, leaving you trembling. 

“Go back, we almost had it!” Someone yelled from beside you. 

You tried to scream, to beg them to stop, but it was no use. Before you could try again, the same horrible pain erupted through your body, ripping you back to the distant memory. 

“If I mix the steroid with human blood, it does as it's designed.  But taking into account the theory of nuclear transmutation, we can assume given the right element we can use the serum to absorb its surroundings, right?” You spoke, like it was common sense. 

“Sure…” Tommy chuckled. 

“So, strip down the original serum, add radiation to its compound, now it needs the ability to absorb energy… What element do we know has that power?” it wasn't a question, nor did you think Tommy would know the answer so you continued, “Water, and our bodies are basically made of that. So in turn, if we can create the original serum mixed with high levels of radiation, inject the person, granted you're not killed by that high levels of toxicity, we're looking at a new type of Super Soldier. One that could, in theory, mutate around the serum and absorb its surroundings!” You finally finished.

“I have no idea what any of that means… But it sounds cool. Now put the vile down, and eat something.” He laughed, grabbing the sample out of your hands and carefully placing it on the table next to you.

“Thats it!” Someone shouted. “Of course, why didn't we think of this. Call the commander, tell him we found it.” 

You felt your body twist in agony, but soon the memory left, leaving you back in the dark with disembodied voices echoing around you. 

“What do you want me to do with her?” a man asked. 

“I don't care. убить её?” Kill her? You froze at his words. Even if you could move, your hands were tied down to the chair. Gentally you wiggle your fingers, careful not to draw any attention to yourself. Not that you would be able to tell. The ring that Shuri had made you was still there. If you timed in right, and you still had Wanda’s borrowed power, you could use it to untie yourself and hopefully get the fuck out of this hell hole. 

“Kill her?” Tommy choked. “You didn't say anything about killin’ her?” 

“You should be thankful. The girl’s been sharing a bed with the same man who killed you once before. In fact, I’m so pleased with your work developing this memory decoder that I’ll give you the honour.” The man spoke, shuffling around the room. “Here, tell me when you're done having your fun.” A few heavy footsteps later, and you finally heard the door close. The silence was deafening, but eventually, Tommy let out a deep breath and took a step towards you, ripping your blind fold off. 

You squinted as you tried to acclimate your eyes to the lighting of the room. It was small and dark, but a few dim lights hung above you illuminating Tommy's features. Once upon a time you would have described them as strong and rugged. Now they seemed to loom over you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, softer than you expected. You quickly clocked the pistol in his left hand and tried to suppress a scoff. 

“Am I okay?” You gawked at him. “You just dug through my head like a sand pit. No- no I’m not okay you shit head!” You screamed. 

Tommy chuckled, using the gun to scratch the back of his neck. “Touché…” He spoke, pulling up a stool and plopping himself down on it infront of you. “I missed that attitude baby. Really, these past couple years have been hell without you. These guys are really scary, but I told em- I said, my girl will know what to do. And you did, baby. I never doubted you.” His voice was like honey. Thick and sickenly sweet. 

“What are you talking about?! I thought you were dead!? I mourned you, asshole. And you've been alive this whole time, working against me?” You couldn't believe how cavalier he was being about this. Tommy only shrugged, fuling the rage inside you. 

“Nah, it's not like that. I was dead, really I was. But then Hydra came and BOOM I was back. They promised me that they’d keep me safe, as long as I could help em get that serum you were always talkin’ bout. Said they wanted to give it time in your system, make sure it didn't kill ya.” He started, narrowing his eyes slowly, “You grieved me? That's a funny way of putting it. Cause from what I saw in that head of yours, you were pretty chummy with that Soldier.”  

You couldn't stifle the scoff that erupted in your mouth. “You're kidding right? Jesus, Tom. They brainwashed me. And I don't need to explain myself. You're sick, you know that?  How could you do this? Do you have any idea what they're going to use that serum for?” You fired the questions off like explosives into his chest, but he didn't even flinch. 

“I don't really care. They told me if I gave em’ your little recipe, they’d let me go.” He shrugged. 

“And so what? Now you're going to kill me?” 

“No… Maybe. I haven't really decided yet.” He looked down at the pistol like it was the first time he really noticed it was there. Contemplating your death like he was deciding between his morning coffee. 

“I would get going on that if I were you.” You lifted your hands, wiggling your wingers playfully “Really, Tommy, you're not cut out for this line of work.” You spat, jumping from your seat and landing a hard kick to his gut, sending him flying back. The gun ricocheted off the ground and hit the wall, but before he could react, you grabbed it. In one swift move you turned the safety off and placed your finger on the trigger. 

“Cummon baby, let's talk about this.” He raised his hands in surrender. “You wouldn't shoot me.” 

You cocked a brow, “You sound really confident in that statement. Especially for a boy who was debating my death a moment ago.” You argued. 

“Dont take it personally, baby. Anything you can do, I can do better. Remember?” You smirked. 

................................................................................................................................

A/n: Another Cliff hanger? Yes. Do I know how to wrote anything else? No... My bad lol. I hope your enjoyed this one as much as I did writing it! As always, @cutie1365​ is the bomb dot com for editing this for me. Tommy sucks, we both agree. I hope he gets whats coming to him... please leave some love and reblog if you read it! 

@kalesrebellion​

@projectcampbell​

@calwitch​

[fletchphoenix]

Everything You’ll Never See Again

Chapter 11 is here - sorry it’s short, I just wanted to get through this chapter ASAP (You’ll see why when you read it) and..yeah. Thank you for the support - I love y’all loads, and onwards with the chapter!

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

Hugo stood in the kitchen, preparing drinks for all of them as Varian and Ulla sat in the living room catching up. A billion questions flooded his head. How did she know they were here? Did she know Hugo was Donella’s….kind of, sort of son? Why was she coming back now? Varian had said that she left when he was younger and didn’t come back, so why did she suddenly show up now? It didn't make any logical sense - surely Varian must’ve known that. As excited as the boy was to see her again, he had to admit there’s gotta be an ulterior motive for his mother coming back. It had to be selfish, after all that’s the kind of woman Ulla was according to Donella.

  He didn’t know Ulla personally, however Donella had told him many stories about her. About how they were friends when they were younger, and used to do a lot of research into alchemy and chemistry along with engineering, and how they were the perfect team. They had worked together in harmony, Hugo having read the few salvaged ones that Ulla hadn’t stolen when she’d left. He was fascinated by the sheer brilliance behind the words they wrote - each one seemed to be meticulously planned without a word being out of place. It was honestly perfect in his eyes how it just flowed so naturally from word to word and made so much sense despite using lengthy, scientific words throughout. He was in awe, however...as soon as Donella saw him with them, she’d immediately taken them and ripped them up right in front of his face as he stood in shock. That was the first time he’d ever seen any emotion on her face - and it was one of his worst memories. Seeing the usually stoic woman with such heartbreak in her eyes at even the sight of her old partner’s handwriting...it hurt. Soon after, she’d told him the story of her and Ulla.

  “We were teenagers when we met, only new in the field and trying to establish ourselves.” she began, her gaze on her hands looking distant. “I suppose it was natural that we’d drifted together - with her eccentricity and my seriousness..we made for a force to be reckoned with. Our research was incomparable! We’d done so much together and..well, of course she’d met that man, Quirin and soon got married and pregnant. Suddenly, she never had time to dedicate herself to our studies, it always being her and her family at the top of her priorities. I should have seen it coming, she was always the weaker one when it came to love and romance.” she let out a sigh, and Hugo shuffled closer to her in silence.

  “We had an argument - a large dispute. It wasn’t...we both said many things we regretted and..we parted ways for a while, me going to my research and her working alone. However, one night, I made a big revelation. I knew I couldn’t do it alone so I called her. We got back in touch and decided to pursue it. One night, she’d figured it out. She tried to steal all of our papers - mostly my hard work. She threw a test tube at me. I assume it was meant to scare me, but she miscalculated and..” she gestured to the gnarled scar on her cheek, it twisting disgustingly from her chin to just below her lip. “She caught my face and, when she saw what she’d done...she just ran. Ran far far away and I haven’t seen her since” 

  Hugo silently stirred the coffee, the teaspoon boiling hot at this point as he looked back on how broken his..mother figure was. It was the most emotion she’d ever permitted herself to show him, all of it truly reflecting how betrayed she’d felt. Why did Ulla have to be Varian’s mother? It just wasn’t fair at all how the universe gave him everything he ever wanted and then ruined it by making Varian’s mother the one person his mother despised. It really was just spitting back in his face, huh? He let out a frustrated sigh and picked up the mugs, leaving the room and heading towards the sitting room silently. 

  Donella wasn’t gonna like this.

  Varian sat beside his mother, listening to her ramble on and on and on about the different things she’d done since she’d left him and his father. He didn’t absorb the information, only staring at her face in wonder and confusion. “That’s...that’s great and all, Mother, but...how did you find me?” He questioned, interrupting...whatever adventure she’d been telling him about the whole time. She looked at him and tilted her head slightly, a smile on her face.

  “Oh! Me and your father kept in touch - well. Kind of. I went over to his yesterday and asked where you lived. I just..had to see you again. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen my baby boy. And look how much you’ve grown up..it’s honestly fascinating…!” she exclaimed, pulling him into another tight hug. “Also, who's that boy you live with? He seems nice!” 

  “Oh, his name is-” He smiled as, speak of the devil, Hugo strutted into the room and placed the coffee cups on his face, however..something felt off. His shoulders seemed stiffer than usual, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that made him look...almost conflicted. What was he conflicted about? What wasn’t Hugo telling him? “This is my boyfriend, Hugo.” He explained, a smile on his face as Ulla once again extended her hand, Hugo glaring at it and turning away.

  “Charmed. Goggles, I’m heading out. I’ll see you later.” he muttered, turning on his heel and heading towards the door. He didn’t understand..why was his boyfriend so distant? Had he done something wrong? He took a second to glance over at his mom, her eyes narrowed and returning Hugo’s previous glare, as if trying to put a name to a face. But that was impossible. They couldn’t have met each other before...right? As soon as that though crossed his mind, Hugo left the bedroom, grabbed his keys and essentially ran out of the front door, giving his boyfriend no chance to say goodbye or..anything. What was going on with that boy? 

  Immediately, Ulla grabbed her son’s hands and pulled him closer to her. “Varian. I know this is very forward but...you need to break up with that boy. Now.” She declared, Varian moving away in shock and staring at her. Break up..with Hugo? Really? She’d just waltzed back into his life and was trying to command him already? Did she really think that was normal? “I know what you’re thinking...but that boy? His mother is the woman who forced me to leave Corona until it was safe for me to return.”

  Varian paused. “What..? What do you mean?” 

  “His mother- well, motherly figure...is Donella. At least I think so from the fact that he has her old jacket. Aka the woman who I used to conduct my research with. We had gotten far on our projects together, however...she wanted to sell our creations to some..very very bad people. She had threatened me so..for our safety, I took the research notes and ran as far away as I could. I wished I could have come back for you, but with her around..it was too risky. And I’m sure your boyfriend knew, judging by the way he looked at me. I’m...very sorry.” 

  Varian sat in a shocked silence. Hugo. Hugo was working for the woman who took his mother away from him, and he knew the whole time. He knew that Donella was bad, and yet he still worked for her. His head hurt. He thought Hugo was good - that he loved him and would tell him anything..his fist slowly clenched at his side. He’d been betrayed once, it sure as hell wasn’t going to happen again. 

  It was time for him and Hugo to have a talk.

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

 “WHAT?!” Donella’s usually tight and toneless voice boomed in anger, loud enough that Hugo thought she’d caused the very foundations of the building to shake. His eyebrows furrowed and the hands that had been in his pockets curled into fists in an attempt to calm him down, nails digging in causing painful little spikes. Her usual perfect hair wouldn’t stay in her ponytail, strands sticking out wildly with the older woman making no attempt to fix it whatsoever. She was like a shell of the woman she was only a few minutes prior - shock and discontent plastered over her features at Hugo’s news of Ulla’s return. “I forbid you from seeing that boy. Ulla is trouble and her offspring will be too.” she concluded without a second’s thought, walking away and leaving Hugo with a dumbfounded look on his face.

  “I-what? No! Mo-Donella, I can’t just break up with Varian! I love him!” he called out, following her down the darkened hallway, knowing full well their argument was bouncing off the steel walls of the warehouse. He didn’t care though - she couldn’t just keep him away from Varian because of some grudge she had! That wasn’t fair on them! He loved that boy with all his heart and soul..Donella could never change that no matter how hard she tried! 

  “I don’t care if you love him or not, Hugo. I am your m-” she stopped herself, her feet stilling. “I am your boss and you WILL do what I say or you’re going to have to leave! It's me or the boy!” she yelled, continuing to walk. Surely the boy would get the message- a bang sounded on the floor. She turned to see her jacket in a pile on the floor, Hugo glaring at her with defiant eyes. 

  “Then I choose him.” Hugo stated, clear as day. The..he was leaving her? She watched him walk down the hall, her feet stuck to the floor as she tried to get over the shock to her system. Her own son- well...student was leaving her for some stupid boy - Ulla’s son no less! It was a sickening thought, making her double over, until she finally concluded. “He’ll be back.” She muttered to herself as she continued her trek down the hall, though a part deep deep down inside of her silently prayed that he wouldn’t. That he would find happiness and love with Varian. It’s what the boy deserved. She just hoped the other boy didn’t hate him for her actions..

  Hugo sprinted home, throwing open the door. “Varian, hey- I have something I need to-” he paused when he saw Varian, standing with a glare on his face and his arms folded. He looked murderous, blue eyes filled with the utmost contempt for Hugo. He’d never seen that look on the boy before...and it made him freeze up in fear. Had he always looked that terrifying?

  “You’re working for the woman that took my mother away from me. And you knew this whole time. Didn’t you?” Oh god. His voice sounded so spiteful, all his love for Hugo turned into hatred in just a few hours. He should’ve told him, but how could he have even entertained the idea that Ulla would show up out of nowhere? “Answer me.”

  “Varian I-I didn’t mean to-”

  “You did! OH MY GOD, HUGO! You have no idea how much I prayed for my mother to be lying to me about that, but she wasn’t! I-Get out! I never want to see you again!” Varian yelled, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he clenched his fists at his sides. Hugo wanted nothing more than to pull the boy into his arms, comfort him and tell him how truly sorry he was...but he guessed that wasn’t a possibility anymore. He felt his heart shatter as he looked at the boy for longer. Surely he didn’t mean that..

  He slowly reached his hand out to the younger, a frown on his features. “Varian..”

  Varian slapped it away and screamed at him. “WE’RE DONE! DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT? YOU RUINED MY LIFE SO-SO JUST GET THE HELL OUT! NOW!” And with that, Hugo felt his heart break for good, a million pieces shattering on the floor as tears started to well in his eyes, before he quickly turned away and ran. 

  NO. No this can’t be happening. This CAN'T BE HAPPENING!- He couldn’t lose Varian! He was-he was the only thing he had left! He ran as fast as he could through the rain, feeling it soak through the T-shirt and trousers he was wearing before he finally turned into the warehouse. He stared at Donella, tears building before running forward and wrapping his arms around her, letting out the emotions he’d pent up for so long...crying freely into the shirt of the older woman.

  Donella merely petted his hair and sunk to the floor, hugging him for the first time ever. She couldn’t bear to see him like this - she’d prayed this wouldn’t happen to him. That he wouldn’t get his heart broken so young..but he did. She sighed and muttered to him. “It’s going to be okay, son..don’t worry.” She whispered to him, holding him close. 

  Ulla was going to pay for this.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Sister raped and murdered in 1972. And a European sister was raped during the 1973 Carnegie Hall campaign.

Dr Joseph Sheftick: Then I heard that the sister whom we had witnessed to on the bus team had been raped and murdered [in 1972]. Father said she was an offering and would go to a good place in the spiritual world.

‘40 years in America’ book, page 44

____________________________________

Hisako Watanabe: When I came to the United States, Father spoke to Mr. Kamiyama and he organized a team to go out and sell tickets for the Carnegie Hall speech—the tickets were about $2. We were a group of international brothers and sisters. A European sister was raped then [September 1973]. Sometimes it was dangerous. Sometimes people said, “Come to my apartment.” I knew it was dangerous to go with them, so I didn’t.

We had a holy ground in Central Park. Mr. Kamiyama gathered us there, and we reported every day. We sang and gave testimonies. We sold a lot of tickets and we had a lot of hope. But very few people came. Like the Bible, the guests were invited to the wedding but they didn’t come. Mr. Kamiyama said to us, “Go outside and get people to come in. Get anyone and tell them it’s free. Don’t sell any more tickets.” Anyone who was walking by we brought in. So then all the members came inside and took seats. We were so sorry to Father that we couldn’t bring people. This was our first opportunity to bring people, but it didn’t work. We had a good feeling, but the reality was so miserable. One old lady stood up and spoke up negatively. It was so intense.

‘40 years in America’ book, page 96

____________________________________

Dan Fefferman reviews the book:

40 Years in America—an Honest Appraisal of the Life of the Unification Movement (PDF)

The recently released 40 Years in America: An Intimate History of the Unification Movement is an important book for several reasons. First, although size doesn’t count in all things, this is a big, gorgeous book, comprising 602 pages and including an impressive array of photographs from the early days of the US movement to the present day. Second, it is indeed an “intimate history” that presents not only the grand actions of its messianic leader but also the trials, tribulations, victories, and reflections of its rank and file members. Third, and for me most important, it is also a self-reflective book with a refreshingly honest approach to the challenges that US Unification movement has faced so far and will face in the future. Credit for this impressive project goes to editor Mike Inglis for conceiving and coordinating it, to church historian Mike Mickler for the painstakingly researched and thought-provoking history that meanders through its oversized pages, and to designer Jonathan Gullery for making what could be a dry historical treatise an absolute delight to the eyes and heart.

... But one also reads of stagnation in membership growth, an American movement of an increasingly oriental character, division and disillusionment over the Zimbabwean Heung Jin episode, the bombshell effect of Nansook Hong’s book, and a movement facing demoralization even as its leaders proclaim victory after victory. Mickler’s analysis is too far reaching to deal with in depth here. Let me touch briefly on two aspects that I felt were particularly interesting. The first has to do with what went wrong with the movement in the 1970s. The second deals with where we stand as we look toward the future. As most long-time members recognize, the American Unification movement experienced substantial and rapid growth in the early 1970s, virtually doubling in membership every year from 1970-1974. Mickler offers an intriguing thought as to the nature of the brick wall we hit after that. He sees the experimental Barrytown training project in 1975 as symptomatic of a departure from the American tradition that had previously brought such success. He cites four factors: 1) the sharpening of in-out distinctions between the movement and world 2) an extreme emphasis on fallen nature and obedience to central figures 3) a counterproductive shift away from center life and toward individual pioneering by young members and 4) the creation of an unattractive sense of desperation that failed to bring about the hoped for Pentecost. But Barrytown was only one symptom of a larger problem. “To a large extent,” says Mickler, “Barrytown was a Japanese import... The Japanese outlook and modes of operation became even more pervasive in the church’s mobile fundraising teams.” The result was a new church culture. College-aged Americans took on a soldier-like demeanor that had little appeal to their peers. They wore ties while witnessing, spoke urgently of the dangers of Communism, testified less frequently to the joys of their international community, stopped singing popular songs in favor or oriental Holy Songs, and sometimes even spoke in stilted English with a Japanese accent. The American movement may only now be fully recovering from that cultural shift. Even as we create new federations, hold successful meetings, develop high level contacts, build media empires, and establish internal institutions for spiritual renewal, the fact remains that American Unificationism seems incapable of recreating the magic that enables new members to join. As he looks to the future, Mickler sees a movement potentially divided among four alternative approaches to its apparent failures: 1) those who critique the orientalization of American Unificationism and call for a stronger sense of continuity with American culture 2) those who see the problem in terms of lack of faith and seek spiritual renewal through programs such as Cheongpyeong 3) those who call for a renewal of a communitarian approach in which center life and other community expressions of the Divine Principle ideal are emphasized and 4) those who see the solution in terms of a realization of “elder-sonship,” agreeing that we need greater continuity with American culture but presenting this as a natural evolution rather than a criticism of the past. Of course, these categories are not hard and fast, nor are they mutually exclusive. And this only part of the story, about 20 pages out of a 600 page book. Mickler concludes on a hopeful note, looking to the future and the emergence of Hyun Jin Moon as the heir apparent to True Father who can realize the principle of elder-sonship. Mike Mickler is to be commended not only for a stimulating essay, but also for memorializing a tremendous amount of detailed history in what I found to be a highly readable narrative. Yet even if one never gets around to a thorough reading Mickler’s history, 40 Years in America is guaranteed to give readers many hours of enjoyment, reveling in past victories, mourning fallen soldiers who have come and gone, and pondering what the future will hold for our children and grandchildren. ...

_____________________________________

Nansook Hong, transcripts of three interviews, including ‘60 Minutes’

Nansook Hong In The Shadow Of The Moons

Black Heung Jin Nim – Violence in the Moon church

Christiane Coste was raped, stabbed repeatedly, mostly to the face and neck, and strangled in New York on February 24, 1978 while delivering The News World to her area in Harlem.

Jin-joo Byrne was raped and murdered in August 2002. 
She was just 18. She was fundraising on her own with costume jewellery in Charlotte, NC. Some time later it was arranged for Hak Ja Han, on a visit to Seattle, to meet the family. She was not very sympathetic. A Korean person understood what Hak Ja Han said.


The Purity Knife – Jen Kiaba

Hiromi Kazuni disappeared, and was likely killed, while fundraising.

Montreal girl (probably Ruthie) killed while fundraising for the Unification Church in 1977. She was hit by a car.

http://www.tparents.org/library/unification/books/40years/

[scribble-scrabbles]

Writing Prompt - “Wrong Timeline”

[WP] You’re doing research in an old library when a stranger comes running up to you. They go to give you a hug while saying, “My love.” You flinch away and their expression falls. Under their breath they say, “Fuck. Wrong timeline.”

...based on these findings, we can conclude that the enzymatic reaction is stable at physiological pH, and thus…

My eyelids drag coarsely across my weary eyes as I blink up at the time. I'd been waist deep in journal articles in the ancient half of the university library for hours, and everything was blurring together, getting me nowhere. Another day wasted. I sighed, gently closing the journal and placing it back in it's spot on the table, where dozens of books and journals littered the workspace. I closed my eyes and inhaled the musky scent of old books and old buildings, letting my thoughts drift as they wished, relinquishing control. 

I was 2 years into a PhD program, researching the biochemical processes of aging and going nowhere in the meantime. The whole field was chock full of pseudoscience and impossible to prove theoreticals, resulting in a metric fuck-ton of useless drivel that I needed to parse through while writing my thesis. Trying to be a “serious scientist” in a field of superficial commercial products was exhausting and disheartening. And yet, like all budding scientists, I felt my cause was righteous - that unlocking the mechanisms of aging would let us reverse senility and save those we held most dear. It was a pipe dream, and I knew it, but I clung to the hope that one day this would all mean something. I peered at the stacks on my table and sighed, rubbing my temples and feeling the headache starting there. 

Time for a change of scenery. I thought to myself, standing and stretching. I was deep in the stacks of the older section of the library building, where largely forgotten volumes of scientific journals and old medical texts were housed. The room was largely silent, minus the hum of the ventilation system and occasional creak of the floor above me. I liked it here, wrapped in solitude and blanketed in the smell of books and old wood, as opposed to the laboratory or classroom where I was constantly asked questions I couldn’t answer about where my project was heading and what, exactly, it was that I wanted to accomplish here. A female in academia isn’t exactly new, nowadays, but a female in academia studying biochemistry in a laboratory that also tested makeup and skin care products was treated as a joke. 

Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I turn to go back to the main library when I hear a faint “pop” somewhere in the stacks beside me. I know the odd pops and creaks this wing makes well enough, and I’m stuck with the sensation that I am no longer alone. I shift to see into the cluster of shelves and see a figure moving among the rows. How did someone get past me without me seeing them? 

“Hello?” I call, “Sorry, I have a whole bunch of journals over here on the table, so if you can’t find what you’re looking for you may want to…” I trail off as the figure moves into the open. He’s a tall, slender college student, and he looks at me with a sudden warmness and recognition that sends a flush of embarrassment through me. I’ve never seen this man before in my life, but he’s looking at me as though I am his oldest friend.

“Oh thank goodness! My love!” He rushes towards me, moving to embrace me. I flinch backwards, suddenly alarmed, running through every potential acquaintance in my memory and coming up blank. I am absolutely sure I have never seen this man before in my life. He stops, his warmness instantly replaced by despair. “Fuck!” He exclaims. “Wrong timeline. Again.” He drops his hands to his pockets and averts his gaze. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am.” I stand in stunned silence, gripping my purse. His green eyes flick back up to mine, briefly, and I see what seems like true sorrow there. 

“Does that line ever actually work on anybody?” He stares at me, confused. “Because, I mean, I have to admit it’s unique but a little bit over the top.” I smile at him, and after a moment, he returns it.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He snorts out a short laugh, still obviously embarrassed. “You look just like someone I know.”

“Someone you love, you mean? She must be pretty special.” 

The stranger looks at his shoes. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

“Why did you think she’d be here? I’m pretty much the only one who ever uses this section of the library - at least for the past few months.” 

“Ah, well..” he rocks back and forth on his heels, “She’s been working on this project for astrophysics and I thought I’d find her here.” 

“Well, there’s your problem.” I laugh. “This is the medical wing.” He looks up sharply. 

“Medical?” 

“Yeah, pretty sure it has been for at least 2 years or so now. Probably a whole lot longer than that.” 

“You’re in the medical field?”

“Well no, not exactly. I’m in a biochemistry program, but I’m studying the aging process and…”

“Oh, well,” he starts, then pauses, “that’s different.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I feel heat rising to my cheeks. “Because I’m a girl and I’m…” he holds his hand up soothingly.

“No, no! I just mean…” he trails off. I cock and eyebrow at him, waiting. He sighs. “I just mean, you’ve never done this before.”

“Well of course I’ve never done this before, it’s not like I have other PhD’s just lying around.”

He meets my eyes for a moment, seeming to weigh his options. Then he shrugs and says “I mean, in every alternative universe, I’ve never once seen you pursue medicine. It just...isn’t you. You’ve always been a physicist and a damn good one. I just have a hard time seeing you as anything else.”

“I….what?”

He sighs. “Your name is Rachel Turner. You grew up in Huntsville, Alabama where you were supposed to get interested in rocket science and physics. I don’t know what diverted that, but I know that in every other timeline, you still love books, terrible movies, and have a soft spot for old things and history.” I shift uncomfortably and he laughs softly. “And when you’re uncomfortable you push your hair back behind your ears like that, and shift your weight to your left foot.” I straighten, and consciously shift my weight back to my right. “You’re stubborn and fierce and have never encountered a puzzle you couldn’t tease apart.” The twinkle in his eyes falters, slightly, “Until you open the portal.”

“Was I your TA or something?” 

“What?” He looked confused.

“Is that how you know so much about me? Are you stalking me?” 

“What, no, I…”

“Because if you did you’re a terrible stalker. I only lived in Alabama until I was 3, we moved when my father died and my mother needed to go back to Ohio to find work and be closer to family.”

“Your dad died?”

“Yeah, early onset dementia.”

“...which is why you’re studying aging.” He nods, satisfied. ”Look, I’m sorry for scaring you and wasting your time. I’ll let you get back to your work.” He motions to the stack of books on the table.” He turned to go back into the stacks.

“Wait!” I exclaim, before I know what I’m saying. He looks back at me over his shoulder and smiles. 

“You may want to find Sam Albertson over in the physics department.” He says, turning back to walk away. “But he’s not going to remember any of this though.” 

I stood, stunned and watched him disappear into the stacks. I heard another faint “pop” a few seconds later and the sound snapped me out of my confusion. I rushed into the stacks after him, but found nothing. I searched and searched, feeling along the walls, looking for hidden openings, until the library lights flipped on and off flipped on and off three times, signaling that it was about to close. I returned to my table, looking all around for any clues of the stranger’s identity or where he could have gone. Had I really just met a time traveler? Could such a thing really be possible? 

I shook my head, thinking it was more likely that I had just fallen asleep while reading my articles. 

As I made my way back to my apartment, I remembered the name he had given me and decided to search for “Sam Albertson” on social media. I nearly dropped my phone when the stranger’s green eyes looked back at me from his profile picture. 

“That little fuck.” I whispered, heading towards the physics department. He was a graduate student, so maybe he would be there this late in the evening. He was published on a paper describing faster-than-light travel models, which gave me a place to start looking. My heart thundered in my chest, a mixture of rage and embarrassment, as I ran up the steps of the physics building. I looked briefly at the directory, then started making my way towards the quantum research labs. Halfway down the hall, my annoyance became tinged with terror. Why was I looking for my stalker in a mostly empty building at night? What if he was dangerous? My steps slowed as I came to the door. Did I really want to do this? I froze, suddenly acutely aware of the insanity of my undertaking. My thoughts whirled through a hundred possible scenarios, not one of them favorable. I turned, and started quickly back down the hallway. All of this could wait until morning, until after I had eaten and slept and had a clearer head. 

The door opened behind me, and I reflexively quickened my steps. 

“Can I help you?” A voice called after me. I stopped, chagrined, and slowly turned to face him. 

Behind me stood Sam Albertson, just as he had stood before me in the library a few hours ago. Except, not the same, I realized, as I took him in. In the library, his hair was longer and shaggier, and his face held a whisper of stubble that made him look older and more rugged. The Sam in front of me now was clean shaven, with short, but still unruly hair. His green eyes looked at me curiously.

“Sorry.” I muttered. “I was just…” He took a couple of hesitant steps towards me. My mind was racing, trying to make everything make sense. 

“Are you okay?” He said, curiosity shifting to concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

I shook myself, trying to fit the pieces together. You’ve never encountered a puzzle you couldn’t  tease apart, the stranger had said. The stranger. Not the man in front of me. I suddenly knew exactly what I was going to do. I straightened and extended my hand. “I’m Rachel,” I said. “I’m thinking about changing my major.”

  Sam grinned, taking my hand. “Oh yeah, what are you interested in?” 

I grinned back.  “Tell me about alternative universes.” 

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (8)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 8: Same Link, Different Mettle | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Chapter 7 | Next: Chapter 9 | Masterlist

8 of ?

Alyon greeted you with black cliffs topped with green patches of grass that rose to the skies, seafoam that’s whiter than bone striped the deep blue seas, and golden patches of sand mingled with the lush green jungles resting at the foot of the mountains.

The Mantis found a nice spot to land on—by the mesa that overlooks the seaside town not bigger than the one in Hoga.

“This place is mesmerizing, [y/n],” Merrin commented.

“It’s not every day we get to beautiful places in the galaxy without the Empire chasing us,” Cere added.

“Yeah, well, hopefully this time—they won’t,” you abruptly stood up from the seat. “I’m gonna take a look around,”

You darted towards the room and got dressed, donning Cal’s Bracca scrapper poncho for the first time. With the Holocron gone, it felt like a load has been lifted from your shoulders—literally and figuratively—as you wore the straps of your bag. BD-1 hopped onto your shoulder as you leave the room.

“I don’t have to tell you again, [y/n],”

“Yes, Cere, I know. Don’t die. Or was it be careful?”

“Both, actually.”

“Gotcha,” she smiled.

It’s a perpetual question in Cere’s mind how you’re able to smile in the midst of all this predicament. Perhaps, it was an indication of your strength. After all that torment you’ve endured in Cal’s absence, you weren’t just back to normal—you’ve changed but for the better.

Compared to your pit stop earlier, trekking through the terrain was a breeze. The sight of the ocean lifted your spirits, the blades of grass tickled your calves, and the sun mildly shone above your head. Along the way, you frolicked in the wild plains—spinning and sprinting around with a child-like innocence—the flaps of your poncho felt like wings as the untamed winds blew to your direction.

There was no sign of the Empire in that seaside town, diverse peoples inhabit the settlement. Yet, the population seemed sparse for a sizable settlement. Your arrival was met with curious stares and vendors’ hollers. There’s no team of armed men marching to your general direction for the welcome wagon—nevertheless, you remained vigilant.

“Stay close, BD,” you muttered.

You approached a fruit stall and browsed; an animal penned inside a stable right next to the stall bleated to get your attention. Ever the curious friend, BD-1 perched onto the fence post and scanned the animal that was chewing on a stalk of hay.

“I knew you’d take a scan of it!” you teased.

BD-1 chirped, you translated it to him saying the animal’s name.

“That, my dear, is a Dimal,”

The fruit stall owner pointed at the tall, woolly animal, its jowls flopped and its rounded upright ears twitched with every chew of the hay stalk. You treated it to a Meiloorun fruit. You brought it close to the Dimal’s mouth, sniffing it first before gobbling it up in its mouth.

“You’re welcome,” you chuckled.

Even with its mouth full, it replied with a muffled grunt and continued gnawing on the large fruit in its seemingly narrow mouth.

“Haven’t seen you in these parts,” the same shop owner blurted, his native dialect was thick.

“I’m a traveler, I just got here,”

After shopping, you headed back to the ship, the old man was kind enough to slip in a few extra berries for the road. You expressed your thanks and went around the town some more—and there was a lively sound coming from up ahead.

Music.

“Do you hear that, BD?”

“Booo!”

“Come on, let’s go take a look,”

You followed the music, colorful notes emitted from the various instruments. A group of dancers performed in perfect synchronization in the middle of the square, their footwork followed the speed of the fifes, the bystanders that circled them clapped to the beat of the drum, and for the finale they cheered once the abrupt strum of all strings of the lute signals the climax of the song.

The dance concluded by a round of applause from the crowd, which you’ve included yourself, you try not to stand out so you immediately vanished from the scene—though it was such a nice sight. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen a street performance or festival.

—–

Three days of refuge in Alyon.

For once, things are seeming fine. But you know perfectly well this wouldn’t last, you’re still gripped with the anticipation of the Inquisitor’s arrival now that you’ve engaged with them—Cal, in particular.

You decided to tell your encounter with Cal through the Force with Cere, and you made sure you speak to her about it in great confidence.

“Cere, something strange happened on the day we left Tatooine and headed to Alyon,”

“And what’s that?”

You don’t even know where to begin explaining it.

“Well, it’s… how do I put it? I sort of saw Cal, here in the ship,”

“You mean, in meditation?”

You shake your head, “I wasn’t even meditating! I was doing something on the workbench and then I heard a voice call me, there was like a feeling that I can’t explain. At first, when I turned around there was nothing, so I thought I was just hearing things; but the second time around, I… I find Cal standing inside my bedroom!”

Cere’s head angled to the side, something about her expression alarmed you the same way you alarmed her with your story.

“Could it be…?” she muttered under your breath, though it was still within your earshot.

“Cere, what is it?”

Cere gradually stood up from the couch, “Hold on, I think I have something!”

She retreated to her own quarters where she rummaged through her rucksack. Shortly after, she reappears with a tome with a maroon leather cover, the metal accents along the corners and spines have tarnished, and the edges of the yellowed papers have chipped away due to age. She flipped through the pages looking for one specific section.

“Cordova learned about this phenomenon with the Force many years ago, while I was still his Padawan. Whatever he could find that pertains to it—he wrote it down, drew figures and diagrams, and added his own insights of his research!”

“What’s it called?”

“It’s a Force-Link. Look here,” she scooted closer beside you, pointing at the written paragraph on the page, her finger following the words as she read it out loud. “It’s said a phenomenon when the Force connects two Force-sensitive individuals, regardless of the distance in between, who have forged a dyad.”

In her excitement, Cere beat you to it—though, it felt like she sensed you’d ask about the last word in the paragraph—and flipped over the pages in search of the entry about Force dyads.

“Here,” she pointed at the first paragraph written underneath the header word, and read out loud word-for-word. “A connection that is forged with the Force between two Force-sensitive individuals.”

Cere skipped the longer metaphors and the personal diary entries that Cordova has written. More pages unraveled its mysteries and the woman impulsively read out loud—mostly for her own indulgence.

“Those who are out of the dyad could not see, feel, or hear the other side of the occurrence,”

This explains why the crew couldn’t hear Cal’s voice as you spoke to him during the first Force-Link encounter. Unfortunately, the explanation about manipulating it to either wielder’s whim—such as when will the connection start and when it’ll be severed—appear to be vague.

“Do Force dyads and Force-Links really seldom happen?”

“Yes, it’s quite rare. When I was a Padawan, I never met another Jedi who shared a dyad with another. But now, coming from you, I truly think Cordova was onto something back then. The bond you’ve shared with Cal factored the Force in allowing you to communicate.”

“I wonder if it’s another sign that he can be turned back to the light,” you thought out loud.

Apart from skimming Cordova’s manifests, strolling along the shoreline in barefoot, skimming rocks, seashells, and coral fragments that beached along the sand became a new pastime for you.

You enjoyed this new breed of solitude, but you’re still haunted by that mirage encounter of Cal back inside the Mantis. You find yourself secretly hoping that it would happen again.

On the other side of the galaxy, Cal has been poring page after page for any result about your Force-induced encounter. There were few resources found in his chambers in the command ship, there weren’t any valuable information found in the holotable’s databank either. The whole ordeal irritated him.

“How is it possible not a single manuscript was written about this!?” Cal roared, his mask did little in muffling out the sound, he punched the rim of the holotable in fury.

The last thing he thought of was retracing his steps, but the problem is: where does he even begin?

After all, it only happened abruptly and he had no control over it, because it felt like it came to him naturally. Cal theorized that it might be your own doing, but in reality, it wasn’t. He immediately dismissed that theory and went back to pinning down the Force as the primary culprit—frankly, it was the only logical culprit.

“Deep breaths,” he chanted to himself, doing exactly what he tells himself as he paced back and forth inside his room.

In the most uncanny of timings, that very same sensation returned to him—as if someone tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention—he abruptly turned around, he was surprised to see you standing inside the chambers with him.

“You’re quite elusive,” he initiated.

Your reaction to his appearance was understandable, your shoulders flinched while gaping at him. This is also the first time you saw him wearing a mask which muffled his voice, yet still coherent. Although the first time was docile, you can’t always count on him to be the same in the next.

You didn’t reply. You secretly fiddled the small seashell you’ve hid inside your fist while you conversed.

“I still don’t understand how and why this is happening to us. Can they see me?” he added.

“I don’t know…”

There was a stale air looming between you and the Eleventh Brother; the crashing waves of the sea and the machine hum spoke on each other’s behalf. You pursed your lips and your fist clenched tighter, the thin edge of the seashell dug into the flesh of your palm.

“You seem confident. Confident that I’ll never find you after you fled Cameegon like a coward.”

“I’m no coward! I’m not the one who gave in so easily!” you snarled.

“I take it that you’re not coming in quietly,” when he got the silent treatment from you, he continued. “Alright, then you’ll have to watch another innocent town be reduced into rubble like Cameegon. You wouldn’t want, would you? That’ll be a lot of blood in your hands.”

The Inquisitor noticed you flinch and he took pride in provoking you. He takes one step forward and you ignite your saber, having him at swordpoint.

“Ooh, feisty aren’t we?”

“You’ll never find me,” you hissed softly, although it was still within Cal’s earshot. “You’ll never turn me into what you’ve become!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. We always find our way to each other, don’t we?”

He spoke the exact same words from his secret projection, a line that you knew too well and caught you off guard; a great thunderclap coming from the horizon startled you—the saber fumbled in your hand and the seashell fell from the other—and he disappeared from where he stood when you looked again.

The same went for the Eleventh Brother. The vibrant apricot seashell clattered on the polished black floor of his chambers. He took the delicate object into his hand and examined it. You unintentionally have given him a clue.

The boy Inquisitor rushed to the command ship’s bridge as fast as he can. His entrance alerted the attending officers; he approached the admiral and held up the shell to his face.

“I want this scanned. Trace its origin planet.”

The officer didn’t have the luxury to ask why and simply obeyed. The admiral took the shell from the young man’s hands and handed it over to one of the computer operators. In less than two minutes, the operator returned the shell along with a small datapad containing the findings.

“Sir, analysis traces it back to Alyon, a tropical planet in the Enca Sector, Ganiv System—it’s in the Outer Rim,” the admiral reported.

“Transmit the coordinates to my ship. Two TIE Fighters and an escort shuttle will come with me.”

“Right away, sir!”

The Eleventh Brother leaves the bridge on the way to the hangar.

“I have you now, [y/n].”

A storm was brewing that evening in Alyon. The thunderclouds have loomed closer to the shore in a dramatic speed. The winds have already picked up, the rain flew in like tiny knives pricking your skin, and the downpour caused the tide to rise earlier than usual. You hurried to getting on higher ground before the water has fully covered the shore.

You pushed through the raging winds, sheltering BD under the flap of your poncho. You blamed yourself for strolling farther from the ship, nightfall has reached you as a consequence, additionally, the town wasn’t any nearer either so it’s not an option.

“No…!” you gasped when the sky had gotten much darker, it doesn’t help with the storm joining in the problem.

The surroundings were all gray and visibility has dropped to zero. You barely see anything in this smokescreen of hail and fog. BD-1’s lights paled in the darkness. You stamped through the damp fields, the harsh winds swayed you farther with every step, but you fought it.

“Almost there, BD-1, hold on!”

Neither you nor BD-1 are safe, not until you’ve set foot into the Mantis. The growing sound of the TIE Fighters’ engine growls signaled their approach and a TIE Interceptor landed at a close distance from you. The hatch opened and out comes Cal, the Eleventh Brother. He stood upright in the midst of the storm, the bright red beam of his lightsaber lit up in the deep grayness.

You’re not going down without a fight.

Cal darted the air towards you, lightsaber at the ready, he found your block weak—it seems the storm has taken its toll on your body. However, he gave credit where it’s due—he admired your fighting spirit. You remained more on the defensive for the greater portion of the fight. The lightning afforded you short bursts of light to see your opponent better—rather, his next attack position.

“There! I see them!” Cere cried, peering through her binoculars and spotting two streaks of light dancing in the fog.

A TIE Fighter sends twin projectiles flying towards the Mantis, barely missing the dorsal fin of the ship but close enough to give it a rumble. Greez started the engine in a panic, Cere ordered him to stay low so they can still pick you up; although, that plan didn’t go so well.

The bitter cold of the wind disoriented you, the angry waves muted the hisses of lightsabers colliding with each other, your head was swirling, the veins on your temple throbbed, and your body had a battle of its own from within. Your lungs struggled as it sucked in cold air, fog wafted through your teeth as you dueled Cal.

The Eleventh Brother watched you charge towards him, ready for a dashed strike, and he prepared himself to time it just right.

Close enough!

You feel your entire body freezing up again, as if an icy gust blew throughout your entire being. The last thing you remember is a hearing a thunderclap mingle with the crash of the ocean, a flash of lightning glowed brightly in your puffy, heavy eyes and then suddenly darkness.

The Eleventh Brother caught you in his arms, carrying you bridal-style, and marched to the escort shuttle that he ordered to be included in his convoy.

“NO!!” Cere cried, a crack of lightning flashed as she witnessed him carry your unconscious body.

Your eyelids blinked the dancing lights away until your eyesight has adjusted to the brightness of the room. You gasped upon waking up, you weren’t sure how long you’ve been, but it felt like a long time. Your arms and legs had limited movement, later discovering that you’re strapped into an interrogation machine. Your heartbeat sped up tenfold, you surveyed across the room starting from the ceiling and then the middle part until you found a Stormtrooper standing beside silhouette across the room.

“Good, you’re awake,” the silhouette spoke, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Do you have any other orders, Eleventh Brother?”

“No, I’ll handle this myself. Leave us and wait for my orders,”

“Yes, Eleventh Brother.”

The Stormtrooper departs, leaving you and the Inquisitor in full privacy.

The red glowing accents of his mask lit up in the shadows, he blended perfect well in the darkness. You don’t know what to say back first, frankly, you don’t know what’s happening and how it came to this.

“Is that what they call you now: Eleventh Brother?”

Your snarky question got no reply from him. He removed his mask and placed it on the nearby podium. With that accessory gone, he massaged his jaw and craned his neck until you heard some bones popping.

“Yeah well, you can still call me Cal,” His roguish grin played along his face.

“Where are Cere and the others?”

“No idea,”

“You lie!”

“I never lie—especially to you,” he calmly said.

The young Inquisitor stepped into the light, revealing himself to you once more. There were a few inches dividing you from him. The white light shone over his hair, revealing the faint redness of his hair past the darker tints. You find that there was no terminal like the one in Nur; it was only him and you strapped into the contraption. Surely, this confused you, at the same time it relieved you that you’re spared of the electrifying torment—for now. No wonder the Stormtrooper was suggesting a better chamber.

“Where am I?”

“In an escort shuttle, en route to Koboth,”

“What is it that you really want, Cal?”

He clicked his tongue, rolled his eyes to the side, and then grinned as he spoke.

“Oh, I think you and I both know that already.”

For every word he said, he took one step closer, “I want the Holocron.”

You smirked, even chuckled, in retaliation. You teased him, inching your face closer just so he’ll hear better.

“I don’t have it.”

The small yet sadistic smile that painted his face melted away. Part of him doesn’t want to believe you, and the other does. With your natural talent for theatrics, it’s hard to decipher you—even for him.

Your smug face and arrogant sniggering was beginning to bother him. So much so that he was starting to think you’re not playing around.

“You’re wasting your time and energy, you know,”

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear,” he sighed. He starts to remove his glove.

Preemptively, you know what he’s about to do to you. Your heart pounded in the wildest pace; suddenly, his Force-ability that once fascinated you, now terrifies you. Cal ignored your desperate scrambling in the contraption, but it somewhat satisfied him.

“That’s my poncho,” he cooed and an evil smirked curled at the corner of his lip.

He reached for you, avoiding his touch is futile. His bare hand is now at a fingertip’s reach from the fabric, sinking away into the contraption wasn’t much help for you either. His grip clutched a portion in the middle—your shirt underneath it was caught in his hold as well—and sharp pangs of light jabbed his vision, a hollow rippling warm drummed in his ears.

“Good night, Cal…”

Your memories have ingrained into every thread, a vision plays out in his mind: he sees you snuggling up to the poncho in bed, keeping it close to your face as you slept, the nightly sobbing rung in his ears, and the warmth that the poncho gave you during cold, sleepless nights wrapped over his shoulders.

“This isn’t who you are!”

“All this time… and we never even got a look.”

That sudden shift of emotions startled him, but he kept his grip—physically and mentally. The Inquisitor wanted to extract as much as he can to exploit you. To him, it was a game; for you, it was a mental war. He witnessed your recent memories—he now knows that you opened the Holocron and took a glance of the contents, he heard the festival music from the town in Alyon, and then he saw the waves tugging away from the shoreline.

“You saw what’s inside the Holocron!” he exclaimed. He pushed further into you using his Psychometry. “What did you do with it?”

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”

The boy Inquisitor was surprised to find that you’re able to fight him off—at least, his grip on your mind. When his influence is now absent in your body, your head hung low as you gasp for breath and fight off the throbbing pain in your head. His mischievous grin stretched from ear-to-ear.

“Interesting…”

He nestled your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting you upwards so you face him, your head bobbed slightly as you’re weakened by the infliction of his Psychometry. He inched closer to your face, the tips of your noses touched.

“My darling, you never cease to amaze me.” He teased you, the bottom of his lip softly brushed across yours while keeping an open grin, his stubble scratched your chin. Your indifferent expression met his roguish smirk as he pulled back inches away from you. A sadistic snicker hummed from his throat and he gently releases his hold on your face before leaving you in your cell.

[ncisjes]

I’d find you in every lifetime

Based off this beautiful gifset by @everythingismadefromdreams and this drabble by @mcgeekle where Ziva is prosecuting a case the team worked. Kudos to them both for creating this amazing AU I am having so much fun writing in. Also a huge thank you to @mcgeekle for letting me continue this. 

@benditlikepress @rareshbones

Read on AO3//FF

Take Your Time

Sipping her second drink of the night, she sits at the bar alone watching what feels like the same old news on ZNN. Being stood up was a rare occurrence for her, but this time she really could not fault the man. In the past two weeks they had agreed to get drinks after work on three separate occasions, and all three times she had bailed to work late. 

The Simmons case was moving along on schedule, but it was still too early to tell how the jury was leaning. Her opening argument was flawless, but the expert witnesses had not fared as well as she had hoped under the scrutiny of the defendants defense team. Their one hundred thousand dollar an hour retainer was clearly paying off for their client. 

Regardless of whatever lead the defense had, she was still determined as ever to win this case. Being new to DC, she needed to establish herself as a capable prosecutor. Her track record here had a much slower start than in New York, but that was mostly suffering through learning the quirks of the system and the judges preferences. She always knew the legal field was cutthroat, but D.C. gave New York a run for its money. 

Luckily for her, the jury had yet to hear from the investigators whose findings built her entire case. She had planned to call Leroy Jethro Gibbs as her first witness, but as life would have it an emergency case had popped up keeping him and his team from attending the hearing. 

Though it had been a month since she had seen him, she had to admit she found herself thinking about Special Agent DiNozzo quite a lot lately.  While his delivery could have been better, his charm was what intrigued her to invite him back to her office to try his luck again at asking her out once the hearing had concluded. There was just something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Wondering what he would be doing on a Friday night like tonight, she imagined him sweet talking his way into some unsuspecting co-ed’s bed for the night.

Taking a long slow sip of her drink, she scans the room in hopes of finding someone to take home herself. Her eyes begin sizing up each prospect, noting their features and what she would like to do with them. Her gaze locks on a brunette that is all legs with grayish brown eyes which jogs her memory of a night a few months back. She cannot remember the woman’s name, but the curl of her tongue is still very vivid in Ziva’s mind. Seeing her arm wrapped around the blonde sitting next to her,  Ziva continues to scour the room in hopes of repeating the ecstasy her mind just recalled. 

Her search comes up empty as everyone in the bar has seemingly paired off. She’s about to signal for her tab and call it a night when she spots him out of the corner of her eye. He’s leaning over the bar talking to the blonde bartender who’s name always escapes Ziva. She laughs and leans over the counter, not only matching Tony’s stance but giving him a much better view down her shirt, Ziva is sure. Her fingers play with the condensation on her glass as she waits for him to notice her. He doesn’t disappoint, leaving the bartender without a second glance a few moments later and hastily making his way to her. 

“Ziva David. Fancy finding you here.” Tony leans on the stool next to her. 

“Hello Special Agent DiNozzo.”

“I see you’ve forgotten my name all ready.” He fakes offense.

“It is a lawyer thing. We have to be proper in court and it transcends into our personal lives.” 

“Deflecting really doesn’t help your case here counselor.” 

“I have not forgotten your name, Tony, and I see you have not forgotten your charm.”

“So you do find me charming.”

“I would not go that far.” She smirks.

“So what’s a girl like you doing here alone on a Friday night?”

“Who says I am alone?” 

“This seat is pushed too far in for someone to have just gone to the bathroom. Unless of course you’re waiting for someone, but judging by your empty drink and the condensation collecting on it you’ve been waiting for quite a while. Our hot shot lawyer from New York couldn’t have been stood up, now could she?” Returning the victorious smirk she had given him moments before. 

“Putting your investigative skills to use on your off time?”

“Only if it means I can sit down here.” 

“I do not think that is a good idea.” She cautions him, her eyes going from playful to serious. 

“Ah come on, who is going to see us? There’s none of you legal types in here. Plus I’m not your witness. Gibbs is.” 

“But you are still a part of his team which makes-”

He waves his hand to shush her, causing her to balk at him.

“One drink.” He holds up his pointer finger as if to make it concrete that they’re only going to have a single cocktail. Somehow she finds herself relenting. 

Taking his seat, Tony waves to the bartender he just abandoned to call her over. Arms crossed over her chest she stares back at him, not moving a muscle. He winks and makes the come hither motion with his finger,  hoping that all can be forgotten with a really good tip on his tab.  She scoffs, throwing the towel she is holding to the ground and walks through the swinging door to the back. 

“Guess we won’t be served by her any time soon.” Tony comments, shifting his body towards Ziva. Before she can respond the other bartender approaches. 

“Hey, sorry about that. Heidi can take things a little too personal sometimes. I’m Jack. What can I get you?” 

“Scotch on the rocks for me and for-”

“I will have another mojito, Jack, thank you.” Ziva answers, effectively cutting Tony off. 

“Sure thing.” Jack smiles and winks at her as he saunters off, causing Tony’s jealousy to spike for some unknown reason. 

“So, you come here often?” Tony asks, drawing Ziva’s attention back to him. 

“Is that what you really wanted to ask me? Generic pick up lines usually work to get girls to take you home with them?”

“I didn’t know that offer was on the table.” He leers at her, grabbing an ice cube from her drink and popping it into his mouth. 

“No I do not come here often, and no it is not on the table.” She glares at him. 

Jack arrives with their drinks, breaking the small amount of tension that had built up. Tony pays in cash and raises his glass to Ziva.

“To future offers. May they be successful and enjoyable for us both.” He gives her a big toothy grin before touching his glass to hers and taking a swig; his eyes never leaving hers. 

Ziva is the first one to break and look away, muttering something under her breath in Hebrew but still finding herself smiling before taking a long drink.

“So tell me, how does the rising star of Mossad find herself practicing law in America?”

“I see you have done your research.”

“It is what I do for a living.”

“Not well enough clearly or you would know the answer. How did one make the jump from Baltimore P.D. to N.C.I.S. with such subpar skills?”

“Answering my question with a question? Deflecting won’t work with me. I use  the same tactic all the time on the job. Nice to know you’re doing your own research on me too though.” He winks at her as he takes another sip of his drink. 

“For the case-”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Now my question?”

Their gazes lock and the power struggle begins between them, sizing the the other up, their pupils dilating and contracting with each breath. Finally giving in, Ziva breaks away to look at the bar door closing before her eyes settle on the ice in her drink, her hand fidgeting with the straw. 

“After serving in the Israeli army I joined Mossad at my own volition. I advanced quickly through the ranks, earning awards for my exemplary skills and talents. I had just become a handler when I decided to leave and come to America.”

“What made you do that?”

“My brother.”

Tony stares at her intently but does not push the subject. He can sense she is having difficulty discussing this. She takes a long swig of her drink before continuing. 

“He cautioned me about promoting any higher, said I did not know what I was getting myself into or who I was really working for. As a handler, I was given more access and told more secrets, but I still had some plausible deniability in the big picture of how Mossad operates. It was not until he was killed three months later that I realized he was right.”

Tony’s eyes study her body language as she tells him the bits and pieces of what seems like a much longer and much more painful story than what she is letting on. He doesn’t push the subject, instead letting the silence fall comfortably between them. 

“You did not ask me.” She comments after a few moments pass and the drinks lessen in their glasses. 

“What's that?” 

“The one question everyone wants to know; how he died.” 

He doesn’t meet her eyes as he finishes his drink. 

“I figured if you wanted to share you would.” 

She twirls the last of her mojito in her glass, watching the clear liquid dance through the crystal ice cubes. Pausing as if she is really considering divulging the information. 

“He killed a member of the secret service, Special Agent Caitlyn Todd. He was killed shortly after by what was reported as a terrorist bombing but really was Mossad cleaning up their mess.” 

Tony’s whole body tenses, not only because he knew Special Agent Todd but because he remembered the bombing that occurred following her death. The reports played for days on ZNN of the horrific injuries people had suffered caused by excessive shrapnel intended to inflict the most pain. The death toll seemed to climb by the second. 

“After his death I was obsessed with getting revenge. I had already lost a sister to a Hamas bombing and to have my brother taken from me the same way… I was determined to bring whoever took him from me forward. When I found out it was ordered by my own director… I could no longer remain loyal to an organization that operated that way.” 

Grabbing her glass, she drains the last of her drink before slamming it back on the bar nearly causing it to shatter. 

“I decided to come to America to bring justice for those who could not get justice for themselves.”

Her eyes are downcast as her fingers play with the condensation on her glass once again. Tony takes a moment to collect himself before tentatively reaching to touch her shoulder.

“Hey, I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m glad you’re here.” 

She gives him a shy smile, leaning into his touch. They stare at each other for a few moments before Tony breaks the contact. 

“Worked a case with Kate Todd. She was a good Agent.”

Ziva’s eyes widen in shock, not only because he knew her but that they both were affected by the same event. 

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“No, I’m sorry to end your night on such a downer. Didn’t mean to bring up such painful memories.” 

“It is alright. I did not mind spending it with you.” 

The words fall out of her mouth before she realizes what she’s said. Luckily she is saved by a man interrupting them. 

“Hey, Tony, sorry to bother you.” He leans on the bar beside him. 

“No worries McInterruptus. Ziva David, this is Timothy McGee, the other and less attractive member of Team Gibbs.” 

Ziva smiles at the glare he gives Tony before extending her hand.

“It is nice to put a face to the name. I read your report in the Simmons case on how the device’s design was flawed and ultimately caused his death. I was amazed by the immense detail you used and then I found out you have a degree in Biomedical Engineering from Johns Hopkins and a degree in Computer Forensics from MIT. Very impressive.” 

“Oh, you’re the prosecutor Tony wouldn’t shut up about and the boss wished he would have sent me to check up on instead.” 

Ziva laughs as Tony strikes McGee across the chest.  

“Quiet McTattletale.” 

“One in the same.” Ziva adds, still laughing. 

“Well it’s very nice to meet you Ziva. Tony I hate to steal you away but Abby had too much to drink and is in the bathroom puking. Jardine is in there with her but she’s probably cleaning every surface. We’re probably going to have to carry her out.” 

“I told you to watch her Probie.” 

“Yeah, you try taking her drink away when she’s ranting about people who say they’re vegetarians but eat chicken.” 

“Good point.” 

Tony stands to leave, pushing in the chair as he does. He stops to turn to Ziva before walking away. 

“Don’t move, I’ll walk you out.” 

She doesn’t understand why she listens. 

A few moments later Tony and McGee emerge from the back of the bar with Abby between them, each of her arms slung over their shoulders. Ziva sees a woman exit quickly from behind them, clutching her bag tightly to her as if not to touch anything. The group stops in front of her as Abby begins to babble. 

“Who’s this? Tony, she's pretty. You’re very pretty.” 

“Not now, Abs.” 

Tony motions for Ziva to follow them and she grabs her briefcase from the bottom of the bar before walking behind them. 

There is a cab waiting outside and McGee drops Abby’s arm to open the door before getting in on the opposite side. Tony struggles to keep Abby upright as she goes limp in his arms. Ziva comes up from behind to grab her other side and help get her into the car. She settles in the backseat with her head in McGee’s lap. 

“Tony did you get her number? Get her number!” Abby calls out as Tony moves to close the door. 

“We have her number Abby.”  

“It was nice meeting you!” McGee yells out to Ziva. 

Tony finally shuts the door, letting out a loud breath, his hand wiping over his face. 

“Sorry about that.” 

“It is quite alright. It is nice to see people taking care of other people.” 

“Do you want to share a cab?” 

“No, I actually live right down there.” She points to a grey building a little ways down the street. 

“Oh so you do come here often.” 

They both laugh at the implication. 

“Well I guess this is goodnight then.”

“Yes, goodnight Tony.”

“Goodnight.” 

He extends his hand and she meets him in the middle. The touch lingers for a little while too long, sparking electricity in them both. After several moments, Ziva finally breaks away, turning on her heel to walk away. He watches her walk until she makes it to her building, his eyes enjoying the way her legs strut in her tight pencil skirt. She pauses to wave to him before unlocking the door and going in. Tony turns to heads home, feeling excited for the first time in his career to attend court. 

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Mission Turn It Up In The Club (It’s The Avengers)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

ONE SHOT

Warnings: fluff, dirty brains, drunk babbies, cutest allies, shocked fathers, confused jocks.

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

One Shot: When Thor indirectly challenges you- a complete noob with zero knowledge of espionage- to go on a relatively easy mission and get some intel, you accept it, never really ready for what's about to happen. And the camera crew records it all.

Word Count: Never underestimate the power of your inner voice because boy does it make you feel amazing about yourself sometimes!

Written for @captain-kelli 500 Fam Writing Challenge. Thank you so much for letting me participate! I picked the Quote (not a dialogue) : There is no limit to what we, as women, can accomplish.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

You come with your shades over your eyes and a yoghurt smoothie in your hand, and sit down on the chair in the recording room, adjusting your 'noice and toit' t-shirt before looking in the direction of the equipment. Clearing your throat and shifting back in the chair- going as back as you possibly can- you nod at Javier and get ready for the camera to roll, never taking off the shades.

You: *sighs* *rests face on your palm* *in a coarse incomprehensible voice* It all star- *tries to clear the coarseness of the throat* ahem ahem *makes bleching noises before groaning* *stops* *sighs* Hmm...where were we? *looks straight past the camera at Javier with half-open lips* Right...right. *looks back at the camera* *lips still half-open* It all started yesterday when a stupid b**** tried to become over smart.

Twenty-Four Hours Earlier

Everyone sat in the lounge of the Avengers Compound reading the reports that had just come in from Fury about a cartel trying to traffic alien wreckage- mostly weapons- to the black market. That 'everyone' excluded you, your adopted dog Zuko, and a very unamused and unbothered Loki sitting on the raised platform by the french windows with a copy of Sapiens and your favourite mug filled with hot tea.

The camera zoomed in on you concentrated on writing something on your laptop; so engrossed you were that you never noticed when Clint quietly gorged on your choco-chip cookies and drank your orange juice.

"But we only have to gather intel from a couple of guys meeting in the city today?"

Thor- who was finally at an Avengers meet after getting things in order for his Asgardians somewhere in Norway in their 'new Asgard'- pshd at the tablet in his hands and chuckled.

"Gather intel. Is that the human way to say drink some beer with these filthy humans and let them talk everything about their plan?"

"Damn right," everyone around him muttered.

"So easy even Y/N could do it," he chortled, catching your ears and a long sigh from the God sitting by the window enjoying the sun.

"Woah, now," Tony interjected, slapping Thor's shoulder with the back of his hand, "don't give her any ideas."

You narrowed your eyes at Tony. "I'm sure if Thor says I can do it-"

"Thor also said none of you ladies can process Asgardian mead," Clint added, buried in the sofa next to you, his tablet acting as a shield against the warm early afternoon sun.

Flashback to a party at the compound

Sam wobbled, trying to stand with the support of the bar while Clint kept muttering ‘I think I can see inside you guys. Like, really see.’ Bruce was being consoled by Thor in one corner. “The big guy hates me, Thor. He doesn’t-he doesn’t love me at aaaalllllll.” Scott and Bucky tried to wager who pin the donkey. The former didn’t even get to hold the tail in his hand. While all this mayhem unfurled, Natasha and Wanda sat by the bar recording everything on their phone while sipping their third Asgardian mead cocktail. “We should do this more often,” Natasha had suggested at one point during at night.

"I don’t get how you can't process it after the first buzz," Natasha called out from the dining table, never looking away from her tablet but still smiling.

"I'll sit this one out," Thor declared, sitting next to you, "I'm sure the Black Widow or Wanda can handle that."

You looked at him with an unwavering gaze for quite some time, making Thor uncomfortable after a certain point. Loki, who had caught you through the whole shebang, had a soft smile creeping on his face on watching you make his brother so uncomfortable.

"Wow," you finally spoke, letting your head move with the exclamation, "you are such a jock, aren't you?"

"A what?"

Loki: *smirks**snickers**snickers turn into uncontrollable laughter**continues laughing**stops midway with a serious look to shout* FINALLY!

"You don't want to go because there won't be any fighting and show of power," you state, turning yourself towards him, "and having conversations with guys seems too boring. Mostly because of your hate for bad guys. You know they won't give you answers straight away if you ask them politely, which I know you hate. So the next step is- 'why can't we just beat the shit out of them after they gave up on my offer to tell everything like good boys?'."

Thor: *crinkled brows* ...we can't? *looks behind the camera* why can't we? 

Tony and Steve stood next to each other- former's brows creased, latter's raised, both in a bit of admiration shock- taking in your breakdown. Finally, Steve leaned a little towards Tony to whisper, "did she just profile Thor?"

"Oh, yeah," Tony answered on the same wavelength before Steve could even finish his question, "she definitely did." He concluded with a smile filled with soft pride.

 "You know what, I'll take it," you casually declared to the lounge while leaning on the coffee table next to you. "Take what?" Steve asked, wanting to find out more of whatever was coming from your mouth. "The challenge," you shrugged, "I'll take up the part of getting some men to blabber about the locations. And while I'm at it, I'll get them to tell me about their boss' headquarters as well. Hmm?"

"Of course, you will," Tony chuckled softly in a trance for one second and furrowed his brows in confusion the next. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me," you announced in his direction before going back to whatever it is you were so busy doing on your laptop, leaving Tony to let his mouth open in displeasure.

"Young lady, you're not going anywhere near those sons of bitches."

Steve looked at the camera with a raised brow.

Steve: You know that moment when you see one of your best friends do everything reckless in this goddamn world, wanting you to curse him with having to once step in your shoes and see what it's like to keep him in check? *smiles with satisfaction* This is one of those days when you see it coming true. When God finally heard your prayers and sends that very friend's kid to make every one of your wishes come true. *nods* *gets serious* Though I'm against putting Y/N in danger. *shakes head* Would never let her do something as reckless as her biological father. *smirks* But damn it feels good.

 Tony: *narrows eyes at the camera* Is that what Captain Star-spangled underwear thinks? *Nods* Hm. *clicks tongue* Well, that day isn't far when I fund research led by Bruce to make super babies with Steve's *makes air quotes* super semen and make him go through the fate of a father and the burdens that come with it.

*Silence*

*camera pans out to show a very pregnant and a very weirded out Pepper sitting next to him with her head resting in her palm as she hears her husband talk*

Pepper: *looks into the void* *inhales* Or you could just make him the mentor for the young heroes in the compound and watch him struggle to get them in line. *shrugs* Better yet, let him be in charge of showing Loki the ropes.

Tony: *still silent* *looks into his void* *blinks* *tilts his head* *looks back at the camera* *smirks* Pepper?

Pepper: Hmm?

Tony: *turns to face her* Have I told you how much I admire your genius?

Pepper: *making circles on Tony's arm* *whispers suggestively* You have but I won't mind you saying it again.

Tony: Well, you are genius, darling. A genius with the power to create countries and throw dictators off their high horses.

Pepper: *raises her head from her palm with a glint in her eyes* *softly announces* Anthony Stark, we're going to your office and you won't stop saying all of it till I tell you to.

Tony: *feels a visible shudder go down his spine as Pepper gets up and walks away* Y-yes ma'am. *looks at the camera with a hint of disbelief*

Pepper: *from outside the room* Now!

*Tony rushes out*

.

The Confidential Club

The camera went from black to a few neon lights flickering in the distance. A heavy base song faded in when everything started coming into focus.

Don't get sick

Don't get strep

Don't get bronchitis

Aye

A soothing glow of blue lit up the walls, which the camera did a slow three-sixty, through which two figures- both tall, one slender and the other jacked up- walked in a sexy slo-mo as the club started another track.

So this money shit, yeah it's been on my mind

Fuck ya possy bitch

I'ma pop off a tonne with the tummy miss

Yea this how I slum I'm bout' to see some tits

Yea ya mummy is fine

Aye

The boys walked into the neon-grazed club glowing with a hue of red, their freshly shampooed hair bouncing with every step till these two stopped right when they entered the floor, scanning the club and the club doing the same to them, but with lost breaths, increased temperatures and some very dirty thoughts and very dirty moans.

I'm a good boy I don't hit no licks yeah

I'm a bad boy flexing with some chicks yuh

I'm a weird boy smokin' on some Brits yuh

Who dat boi

I'm that boy yuh

The slo-mo continued, recording every pair of eyes that turned to get a look at the brothers whose presence was electrifying the entire building. Ladies forgot their drinks and men, men forgot their dates and- with a swift internal jolt- their toxic masculinity and the genderless seemed to have found Gods in the club tonight.

We them bad boy come give baby kiss

We just dropped it now

Now the swallow kiss

Have to beg these ladies try to do the splits

Tryna get the boy to do the coochie little

People moved as if these Gods were gravity, walking under those flickering club lights and smoked room, hands trying to get a touch, eyes wanting to get just one sweet stare, legs wanting to get a little brush, the heat pooling inside them looking for just a little satisfaction.

Yea I'm Neo watch me on the Matrix

All these sussy boy I just implore I do not play with

Baby (Baby) sure you're crazy

Boy that gave me 8 bars and some new restraint

Who that boi

I'm that boi yuh

The blond locks seemed to find suggestive fingers in them, while some other stray ones roamed on Thor's chest. Loki watched his brother being surrounded with the crowd of thirsty thots, his face dripping with pure displeasure, letting the camera catch it frame by frame, with brilliant tilts, doing it till Loki was looking right at the lens.

Who that boi

I'm that boi yuh

Another camera standing a little further recorded Javier on his knees trying to catch Loki's displeasure and piercing eyes- at anyone who even suggested that they wanted to touch him- before he looked at Javier. "What are you doing?" Loki judged Javiers' slow camera tilts.

Javier raised his index finger for a few moments, still recording those sour expressions before giving a thumbs up, getting up and walking towards the crowd that had surrounded a quite flattered Thor.

With an eye roll in his brother's direction, Loki turned to find the other camera looking at him, quite possibly directing him somewhere else because the next moment he was looking away. The camera turned in the same direction to show- behind the crowd of mellow, drunk and horny people- you laughing with your head tilted backwards, sitting with a group of men he had seen in the report when he was forced by Thor to come on this stupid so-called mission with him.

You sat between four men, enthusiastically narrating something to your small audience with wide eyes and wildly moving arms, entertaining the viewers with intention known to them and these green eyes who could see right through every one of those scums.

The camera- swivelling between you and Loki- caught him walking towards you only to be stopped by a pale hand- carrying beautifully manicured nails in blood-red- landing on his chest.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Natasha suggested to the God with a bare hint of a smile on her lips.

Loki looked down at the Black Widow dressed in a body-hugging black dress. "Oh, I wasn't going to stop her from having some fun, I assure you," he implored.

Natasha brought her hand forward for Loki to take the earpiece in her hand. "She's got this. But you're welcome to listen in on the conversation," Natasha offered.

"My brother can fill in for me considering Y/N is already doing his job," he mentioned, pointing towards the crowd taking selfies with a giddy Thor making girls swoon all around him.

"Hot molten chocolate cake!" came a voice from the earpiece, loud enough for Loki sensitive ears and the recorders in all the devices to catch before the God could walk away.

"That's the safe word," Natasha declared into the earpiece, before turning to look at the table where you were.

"I really should go," you colourfully begged the man who had his hand wrapped around your arm, never letting go, "my girls must be waiting for me."

"Call your girls," the man holding you said, "we can all party in the private room upstairs."

"Call my girls?" you said a little louder as if asking Natasha what to do.

"On it." Loki heard another voice come through the comms, making Natasha's tensed back go straight.

"It's okay, Y/N," she confirmed into your earpiece, "go ahead. Tell them the girls can't wait."

The camera caught Natasha turning with a smirk that sent a cold shiver over the glowing dance floor, making Loki mirror that smirk, looking forward to it all.

The enthusiasm in Natasha's face was disturbed by some invisible ripple. "Where's Thor?"

 Other Side of the Club

Javier's camera showed the blond God sitting at the bar with at least twenty ladies huddled with him, handing him drinks.

"Now this one," a petite little girl stated, handing him a tall glass of Long Island Iced Tea. Thor happily took the glass, had a decent sip, gulped it down, furrowed his brows and smacked his lips.

"No," he finally declared, earning a cheer from the girls. "Not laced!" they shouted before handing him another girl's drink.

.

Upstairs

The camera stuck to the corners as it followed the men violating your private space, their arms around you, walking in front of and behind you, leaving no space whatsoever to look for any signs of the cavalry.

"Woah, guys, how about you go in and I'll go look for my sisters-"

"Oh, no," the one with a stubble and a nice jawline declared, "you're coming with us and your friends can follow. Come on, let's get some more alcohol in you!"

"Haha, yeah!" you pretended to cheer, stepping inside the room behind the guy with a ponytail, who stood in the middle of the living room like a statue for a good second.

"What the hell is this?" He announced more than he asked, pointing to Anna- the camera girl- sitting at the other end of the room, recording the entrance.

"Oh," you exclaimed in realisation, making all four men turn towards you, never noticing the door be closed by another figure in the room, "that's my camera gal. She follows me everywhere. My dad kinda got into this idea of making a documentary out of our lives so one of them is always around me except for when I'm studying or in the bathroom. But I have seen them recording me once or twice when I was in the librar-"

"Shut up!" The jawline guy roared, taking out a gun from his back, "Shut the f*** up! Rory, I told you she was a student. She'll fetch a good price on the market."

You wanted to be frightened by that gun but the camera caught you more in offended disbelief than in fearful shock. "Excuse me? How old do you think I am? Just because I'm studying, you little-minded bitch?! Learning has no age limit, you arrogant paedophiles!"

"Oh well," Jaw-guy shrugged, taking off his jacket, "you're no use to the bosses then. Looks like we'll have to make use of you. And your pretty friend there can record us doing it." He grinned, both at you and then at the camera.

Ponytails looked at you with a wrinkled forehead. "Something's wrong," he stated, taking a step close to you.

"What do you mean?" The guy in the brown leather jacket asked.

"Look at her," he answered, pointing towards you, "she isn't even sweating right now."

You looked at Ponytails with furrowed brows. "You've set the temperature quite low, dude. I'm practically shivering in here."

"That's actually true," Jacket acknowledged, nodding at you.

"No, you dumb fuckers! She isn't scared!"

Jaw had a moment of realisation at Pony's words, taking hurried steps towards you, grabbing you by your throat and pushing you into the wall behind you.

"Oh my Gaahd," you tried to exclaim through whatever air was able to pass through your lungs, as you felt your hand automatically go grab the one that was causing you pain.

"Who are you?" Jaw hissed through his teeth close to your face. "Who do you work for?"

Your brows lifted. An aching moan left your lungs. You took in a little gulp of air. "I never thought this is how it goes down."

"That's because you picked the wrong men to mess with, darlin'."

Your raised brows crinkled at Jaw's statement. "What?"

You: Oh, I was thinking about the horny wave I got when he tried to choke me. *stretches the corner of her mouth in embarrassment* Yeah, turns out not the first thought that should come to your mind when someone's trying to kill you. But on the bright side I discovered a kink so *does a thumb up with both hands with a big grin.*

"But we haven't even started messing with you boys yet."

The camera swirled from your agitated, flushed face to the doorway leading to the bedroom, catching a very disinterested Wanda leaning on the wall as she checked out her nails.

"Wow," you choked, "were you always this hot, Wanda?"

"Who the fuck is this? Who the fuck are you?" Ponytails pointed his gun at the Scarlet Witch in haste, bringing forth a plasmic red spark in between her fingers, which, with a little twist, made the man point his gun at his buddy.

Another camera entered through the door to catch Jaw pulling you away from the wall to hold you in a lock with his gun pointed to your head. "One wrong move and I blow her brains out, bitch."

"One wrong move and I'll be doing the same to you, bitch."

Natasha stood behind Jaw with a gun. "Let go of her before my friend and I paint these walls with your insides."

Jaw cursed her under his breath, taking a few moments before releasing you. You quickly walked to a safer corner of the room, next to the fireplace, breathing with ease now.

"Y/N," she called out, "you okay, sweetie?"

"Uhh...just a little light-headed. Otherwise, I'm good," you responded, finding yourself lowering your voice, "though I wish someone else was choking me right now." You looked at the camera and narrowed your eyes. "Don't you judge me," you criticised in a whisper at it, feeling yourself tilt to one side, losing your balance, already fearing to hit the floor before being caught by strong hands.

"Oh," you sang while the camera panned out from you and those pale hands to show Loki very gracefully breaking your fall, "Hey, handsome!"

Loki didn't even blink as he tried to bring you back on your feet. "Drinking on a mission? Really? I thought you were better than this."

"Ugh," you bleched at him, "shush! I was in my form with those gin shots, okay. These whiney thirsty boys were blabbering the moment I sat down. Let's see your brother pull that off-wait. Why are you here?"

The two of you were oblivious to the fight going in the background being recorded by the other camera; the Black Widow breaking bones like twigs while the Scarlet Witch was making them vomit on their fears.

"Oh, I wanted to see what petty excuse do you humans use to enjoy and forget this pathetic world-"

The camera panned in on you while someone outside the frame screamed and was thrown into a wall. You smiled with pure emotion in your eyes while looking at Loki.

"You didn't know we were here, did you?" you asked with that smile still stuck on your face.

"No."

"Thor dragged you here, didn't he?"

"I came here by my own accord."

"What did he blackmail you with this time?"

"...I wasn't blackmailed! No one can blackmail m-"

Loki: Tony said he'd block my access to his library. *clenches his teeth* That old rusty metalhead.

"Fine if you don't wanna tell me. I'm just glad you came," you pointed, patting him on his chest, completely missing the knife flying towards you being blocked by his reflexes- nothing having been displaced but for his arm.

"Wow," you gasped, letting your hand touch his chest again, "what do you have under there? Rocks? How the heck is your chest so hard?"

"I'm a frost giant darling," he asserted, twirling the knife in his hand before throwing it forward without looking, landing right on Leather Jacket's hand about to pull the trigger and shoot Wanda.

"And I'm a human. What's your point? Why are your boobies so hard and mine so squishy? Look!"

You took his hand to make him feel your chest. "Okay," he cut you short before you could forcibly make him grope you.

"You are clearly running on alcohol right now."

You snorted. "No, dummy. I'm standing. Are you sure you're not the drunk one?"

Loki looked at the camera.

.

"I'm sorry," you whined.

The camera caught your figure partially as you hid behind Loki in the compound elevator while Wanda and Natasha stood on either side.

"Don't worry," Natasha reiterated, "we'll take care of it. Just don't tell Tony about the..." she waved her hand in the air like it meant something to you.

The ding announced your arrival to the lounge. Elevator doors opened to see Tony standing at the entrance with crossed arms, his eyes boring straight into everyone in front of him, not even bothering to blink.

Behind him Scott and Bucky sat on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and Home Alone on the big screen, their eyes and ears focused on all of you rather than the movie.

An everlasting moment of silence passed and you managed to get a look of those eyes of judgement over Loki's shoulder before quickly curling back into your hiding spot.

"Where were you?"

The room didn't even have time to register the chill when you heard Natasha speaking. "Wanda and I were out shopping. I don't know about these two," she announced with her hands raised, walking out while mouthing 'sorry' at your face that had just experienced third-tier betrayal.

"I suggest you come out from behind Aro here," Tony digressed, "he's not gonna hide you for the rest of your life."

Loki took a step out of the elevator, getting a little closer to Stark, towering him just a little, his hands resting in his pockets. Stark was visibly hating the suave play from the God.

You were stuck there for a few more seconds before stepping beside Loki, letting the camera capture the wide eyes, a gasp of shattering shock and the fumes dissipating to give place to something new.

Panning in on you, the camera caught the bruise growing on your cheek, the size of a pear.

"Y/N-" Stark had barely begun to address his horror when Loki cut him short.

"She’s fine, Stark. Just a little-"

"Who did this?!"

That erupting gaze was meant for you to answer the question and so the entire surrounding went silent for you to answer him. Even Home Alone was muted to hear what you had to say for this bruise.

"Mr Stark, I can explain." Your voice was a quarter of what it was half an hour ago, barely coming out in front of your father. "Please don't be mad. And please keep an open mind about it."

None of you could gather what rushed into Tony's mind because the next thing you knew, he felt himself shift back a little. Curse words flew under his breath as his hands tried to run over the tensed muscles in his face.

"Oh, my G-is this some sort of new...new thing you kids are into?"

Now it was your turn to be confused. "What?"

You: *cringe* Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Get it out of my head! Ew!!

"N-No! I-what?! Nooooooo!" you stressed at the word as much as possible. The God stood there seemingly trying to make sense of this conversation.

"Loki and I were out on a date. We were karaoke-ing and I was dancing on the bar counter when I slipped and hit myself."

Loki did not miss even a second to look at the camera with pursed lips.

Loki: That's not what happened.

 Flashback to the club

You forced Loki on the dancefloor while Natasha took care of the goons.

"Come on, show me your mooooves, Loki," you shouted over the music before giddily jumping and taking a step back, colliding with a guy.

"Oh, I'm so-"

"What the f***!" The pasty blond guy cursed at you before looking at Loki. "Take care of your bitch, asshole."

Before Loki could take a stance between the two of you, he felt your hand block him, your eyes glowing at that rude stranger.

"Who the f*** are you calling, asshole, you dried pulp-less raisin!"

The guy twisted his jaw before stepping very close to you.

Loki- clearly uncomfortable by the distance- tried to pull you towards him and away from that pathetic excuse of a human

"Alright," the God announced, "you better watch-"

The camera caught the full-blown emotion of offence on Loki's face as you swatted his hands away.

"I called. Your boyfriend. An asshole. You c***."

Loki blinked in a sense of amusement at the audacity of that man, the ripples of tensed muscles under his black t-shirt quite visible for the ones who watched.

"At least I can take a pounding unlike your ego, you smelly ballsack," you spat back. "Now walk away before I bring a mirror and show you what a real asshole looks like." The infant rage that Loki was carrying in his entire body suddenly screeched to a halt as he looked at the back of your head with shocked confusion. "What kind of insult was that?"

The pasty guy was fuming now. Your words clearly rubbing him the wrong way.

"Oh, what happened?" you sang in a sarcasm filled tone. "Did your boring comebacks turn flaccid? Just like your virgin d-"

He pushed you back. "Shut the fuck up before I make you shut up."

Loki body stood as a shield- only behind you- wanting to go ahead and do something to that guy but you were not giving him a chance to do so.

You gasped. "The audacity of this bitch!" And pushed him back. "What're gonna do, fight me?"

No one saw it coming. The punch landed on your face within seconds, pushing your back into Loki's chest, the latter having to grab you to stop you from falling.

"Okay, that's it," Loki pulled you up, his eyes on fire glaring right at the man with the intention to kill. And as his luck for the night would have it, you used him as a support to gather a bit potential, scream "Son of a-" while charging at the guy. By now the rest of the ladies on the dancefloor had witnessed enough to come to your aid and beat the living hell out of that man. Pure, chaotic energy spreading over the floor that reflected in the pleasant amusement in Loki's eyes.

"By the Norns," Loki whispered, looking at the scene unfolding in front of him before looking at the camera, "remind me never to get on Y/N's bad side."

The pasty guy screamed out of the frame, making Loki turn at him with a layer of disappointment.

"Oh, you asked for it," he shouted at the man screaming for help before being swallowed whole by the river of women.

 You: *sighs* Of course, I can't tell Mr Stark I got punched while defending your honour.

Loki: *giggle snorts*

You: *turns to look at him* what?

Loki: You're right. I can see him never believing that.

You: *nodding in agreement* right?

Loki: Because he would cut my head off the day he does. *stops smiling*

You: Aw! I won't let him, buddy.

Loki: Oh, I doubt it. He is still in shock about the whole 'date' thing.

The camera flips to the lounge showing Stark sitting in between Scott and Bucky, looking in the distance- still in shock- while those two munched on their popcorns from the popcorn bowl kept in Tony's lap.

"Nah." he finally says out of the blue, almost making Scott jump, "Y/N can't date Loki? I'm sure she's just pulling my leg for not letting her go on that stupid interrogation mission."

Scott and Bucky exchanged glances before nodding and patting him on the back, resuming their movie with a 'sure buddy'.

You: *sheepishly* Yeah, I think we broke him.

Loki: At least he's behaving like he's supposed to, unlike my brother in such situations.

You: Huh...*nods* *furrows brows* speaking of Thor...where is he?

Loki:

You:

 The Club-a-Dub-Dub

The camera captured a face covered by flickering neon pink shades looking down at a laptop in those big hands while glowing neon party necklaces adorned his neck.

"All right let's do this," Thor stated in all seriousness, using a pink tic-tac to pull his hair up above his ear. The camera zoomed out a little to show him looking at a laptop placed in front of him on a pedestal.

"We are gathered here for a task that is too important for this world to be left to another time. A task so huge that my heart feels both burdened and honoured to be able to put it to fruition. A task so pure in its being that anyone who stands up against it in this club shall face my wrath. But not before I try to make them change their mind with love. Rosa and Gina, I ask you to step forward and be the blessed lot of this sacred ceremony."

The slow panning out of the frame showed two beautiful women step forward and face each other with pure smiles.

"By the power vested in me by becomeaminister.com, I am honoured to announce you wife and wife. You may now kiss."

An uproar of elated excitement filled the club just as Thor finished; the brides kissing and their friends celebrating. Everyone toasted to the newlywed couple before someone shouted to do the cha-cha slide.

The next thing you know, Thor and the rest of the people in the house were sliding left and right.

"THIS IS SO MUCH FUN!!!!" Thor shouted with the jumps and twists, "I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER WHY I'D COME HERE!!"

[sparxwrites]

(written to “american love” by smallpools, which is a bit of a nadi anthem tbqh. neidyasset ainseelie is my character from a dnd campaign by @ladyofrosefire. for my fellow players: beware, there are Minor Spoilers here for the much-hyped eventual Meeting Of Nadi’s Family, in that this fic is primarily about nadi’s family. if you don’t care about that, then feel free to read on!!)

cw for shitty/manipulative parenting, a dubiously healthy relationship with alcohol, and an excess of teenage angst

[ao3]

The butler let Nadi in, as always. A new one, since the last time she’d visited – a young man, either an unusually pale Drow or half-Elven, smartly dressed in the Ainseelie livery of ivory and gold and already looking tired of his job.

She kept her eyes down, mumbling a thank you as he let her through the heavy wood-and-wrought-iron front door. No sense getting too friendly, all things considered. Her mother’d never been too good at keeping butlers – or any kind of serving staff for that matter. It rankled, she knew, just one of the many pricks at her mother’s noble pride.

He took her bags, too, foisting them off onto a more junior staff member moments later. She kept her satchel, one hand clutched around the strap across her chest, but the rest were spirited away before she had time to take more than two steps into the entrance hall. Quite how the butler thought he could get them to her room before she got there, she wasn’t sure, but–

“Neidyasset!” Lady Luarine Ainseelie’s voice rang out through the large entrance hall.

Nadi froze, eyes still on the pale, veined marble of the floor. That was how, apparently. Relying on a little family reunion. Unfortunate.

She’d assumed her parents would be out, given her deliberately-awkward mid-afternoon arrival, but apparently not. There was her mother on the stairs – in an elegant, understated dress of pale silk to compliment the deep purple of her skin, gold-set diamonds hung around her throat in thin, dripping strings, and a perfect smile pasted on her perfectly made-up face.

Her father stood a full two meters to the side, one step down, in starched cotton dress pants and a shirt rolled up to his elbows, both in a shade of ivory to tone with his wife’s gown and accented with gold buttons. His expression was as flat and unreadable as ever, lips pulled into a thin line and his eyes hard and cold.

“Lady Luarine Ainseelie,” said Nadi, forcing a smile onto her face that was somehow even more fake than her mother’s own painted-on one. “Lord Istas Ainseelie. It’s good to see you.” She offered a clumsy attempt at a curtsey, then gave up on it half way through as a bad deal and segued into a stiff bow.

Istas snorted, softly and humourlessly, at the graceless display.

The look his wife gave him out the corner of her eye was positively glacial, though her smile never wavered. “Neidyasset, darling, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Mother?” she said, expansive generosity in every word. A lie. They’d been through this little script enough times for Nadi to know the reaction if she opened with Mother. “Honestly. So formal!”

“Mother. Of course. ” Nadi straightened up, carefully correcting her posture and ensuring her shoulders weren’t up around her pointed ears, clasping one hand around the other wrist at the small of her back. “I… had assumed you would be out making social calls, given the hour and the season. I would have sent ahead to inform you of my arrival, otherwise.”

Luarine smile widened, though it still didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, water under the bridge,” she demurred. “The servants will sort everything, regardless. It’s just good to have you home, Neidyasset. How have your studies been?”

“They’re going well.” Nadi’s fingers tightened around her wrist, trying to remember this particular bit of the script, what lie she’d used last time. “It’s– you know. Business as usual. Research, reading, experiments… my supervisor’s hopeful that I’m very close to a breakthrough, but it’s always a little slow going when you’re on the cutting edge of arcane research.” She shrugged, dipped her gaze in what she hoped was a modest gesture, not a suspicious one. “I won’t bore you with the technical details, but it’s groundbreaking work. We’re taking mathemagics and philoarcanosophy to previously-unconceived-of heights. Very exciting.”

It was a lie, but mostly a white lie. Nad reassured herself with that, even as the nape of her neck prickled at the deception, even as she fought to keep from breaking out into a guilty cold sweat.

There was absolutely no need for her family to know about her missing supervisor, after all. About the faculty’s ambivalence towards finding her a new one. About her stagnating research, in light of her recent academic suspension. And definitely no need for them to know about the impromptu Feywild trip. The mere thought of her mother learning that little tidbit was almost enough to make her shudder.

Though if Professor Egreth was gone for much longer… well. She’d burn that bridge when she got to it.

“Oh, how exciting!” Luarine turned to Istas, with a smile that showed too many teeth. “Our own little Neidyasset, on the cutting edge of arcane research. Aren’t you just so proud?”

“I am indeed,” said, Istas, drilly, looking as though he couldn’t care less. As though he would prefer to be literally anywhere else, having literally any other conversation. His gaze was fixed in the middle distance, on a point on the far wall somewhere well over the top of Nadi’s head.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Nadi felt a fleeting sense of kinship with her father.

“We’re both very proud,” said Luarine, fussily smoothing her hands over an imagined crease in her skirt, not so much as batting an eyelid at her husband’s lack of enthusiasm. “I can’t wait for your graduation, Neidyasset. I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the town.”

Nadi, not sure what to say to that particular little performance-cum-threat, offered a respectful half-bow in response.

She was rewarded with a high, insincere laugh from Luarine. Istas gave no response whatsoever, save for crossing his arms, as though he were also waiting for the rigmarole to be over – though far more blatantly than Nadi was.

“So formal! Always so formal, our little Neidyasset.” Luarine eyed her up and down, taking in the mismatched boots, the scuffed trousers and oversized jumper, the goggles still perched atop Nadi’s head. “Though not so formally dressed, unfortunately. You’ll want to clean up before dinner.”

“Why? Do we have company?” Nadi fidgeted absently with the strap of her satchel, trying to not grind her teeth at the extended eye contact, the extended pantomime of politeness. She wanted nothing more than to disappear to her room, but her desire was subsumed beneath familial duty, beneath her mother’s pointed stare.

Like a butterfly on a board, she was pinned in place until Luarine decided otherwise.

“Though Talice will, unfortunately, not be joining us this Heartsease – she’s been asked to play a vital part in the ceremonies at the temple, can you imagine! Our Talice! – but the Lord Ainseelie has kindly lent us Veyris back for the holiday.” She failed to hide the note of distaste in her voice, despite the smile still firmly in place. “So she will be joining us. And I’ve invited the Lady Sabine’s family to dinner tonight. She, unfortunately, is otherwise engaged, but her sister and brother-in-law will be joining us! And their daughter, too – who I’m quite sure I told you about in my last letter.”

The letter had, if Nadi remembered correctly, made much of exactly how eligible Lady Sabine’s niece was. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning. Yet another futile matchmaking dinner – and on her first evening home, too. What fun.

“So we must all be dressed appropriately, and on our best behaviour,” concluded Luarine, with a singularly pointed look at her daughter. “It’s very important to make a good impression. And, of course, we’ll be having family over for the next few nights after that – the Lord Ainseelie and some of his entourage,” again, the ill-hidden distaste, “tomorrow, I believe, and the Arganans the day after, And then, of course, it’s the family ball. I’ve taken the liberty of acquiring a suitable outfit for you, since I assume that you have failed to do so.”

Nadi ground her teeth a little harder, her mother’s tone sliding between her ribs more effectively than any dagger. “Thank you, Mother,” she managed after a moment, her voice perfectly flat. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Yes, I thought so too. Anyway. Busy busy busy! An exciting few days ahead of us. And it’s lovely that you could join us. Finally. After your absence, the last few holidays.” There was no missing the icy note in Luarine’s voice. No missing her pointed disapproval, even buried as it was beneath layers of courtly courtesy.

“Mmh. Well. Academia’s time consuming, unfortunately,” lied Nadi, through her teeth. She’d spent Silver Night drinking copious amounts of sweet, spiced rum and doing shots of brightwine with the other Starspire postgrads in her student flat’s kitchen, until she’d passed out at the table in the wee hours of the morning. She’d spent King’s Day before that in the bed of some mathematics undergraduate, half-drunk and drowning her worries in easy, meaningless sex. “I’m glad I could return home for Heartsease, though.”

Another lie. Nadi felt sure her mother must know, because she’d never been much good at lying – but the polite, insincere smile pasted onto Luarine’s immaculately painted face never faltered.

Perhaps her mother hadn’t noticed. Perhaps Luarine just didn’t care, so long as the pretense at happy families was maintained.

“Luarine, dear,” interrupted Istas, before Luarine could launch into more barbed platitudes. “As thrilling as your entrance hall interrogation of our daughter is, perhaps you could save it for dinner? I’m sure she’d prefer to run along and get… cleaned up.” He, too, eyed her well-worn lab outfit, and the corner of one lip curled up in distaste. “She looks sorely in need of a bath, after all. And a change of clothes.”

Nadi tightened the hand around her wrist until she felt sure she must be cutting the circulation off, and dug the blunt nails of her other hand into her palm until it ached.

For a split second, Luarine’s expression cracked, and a look of frustrated loathing flashed across her face – though Nadi missed it, busy sinking nails into her own skin and staring into the middle distance. Then it was gone, tucked neatly behind her near-flawless mask once more. “Oh! Of course. Quite right, husband dearest. She must be quite desperate to refresh herself.” She regarded Nadi for a long moment, and then flapped a dismissive hand at her. “You are excused. I look forward to continuing our conversation at dinner.”

“Mother. Father.” Nadi bowed once more, a little more gracefully this time, and then fled.

She didn’t run, but she did walk faster than was probably seemly, her boots echoing against the marble in the cavernous entrance hall and the hallway leading out of it. Down a corridor to the right, a turn to the left, up a staircase spiralling hidden behind an innocuous door, out into another hallway on the second floor, a sharp right turn–

The door to her bedroom clicked shut behind her, and Nadi inhaled properly for the first time since setting foot in the house as she turned the lock.

It took a long moment of just remembering to breathe, her slumped against the solid wood of her door, before she found the energy to pull herself up. She wandered into the centre of the room and, looking around. It was exactly as she’d left it, last time she was home – the furniture lavish and elegant, dark wood and lacquer and metal, but sparse.

The four-poster bed dominated the room, draped with deep purple silks and beautifully embroidered linens. A writing desk sat under one silk-curtained window, along with a high-backed chair and her bags. In the corner was a tall, thin armoire, and a capacious chest of drawers.

Otherwise, the room was empty – no rugs on the flagstone floors, no personal effects, no artwork. What little clutter she’d had was currently occupying every available surface in her student room, leaving her bedroom at home looking distinctly un-lived-in. Which was appropriate, really, given how rarely she returned to it

Nadi sighed, and set her satchel down on the desk, with a dull thump that echoed in the empty, high-ceilinged room. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned her familiar to her shoulder.

An irritated-looking raven popped into being with an angry squawk, nearly sliding off her shoulder before righted himself – hitting her in the face with one large wing, and grabbing at one of her many earrings with his beak for balance. Even once he was settled, he kept tugging on it, nibbling at the point of one long, obsidian ear until Nadi swatted him off her shoulder.

“Vyrrd,” Nadi chided, without any sort of heat in her voice. She tugged her goggles off her head, setting them down on the desk beside her bag, and dragged a hand over the close-cropped fuzz of her glittering, silvery hair. “Fucking hells, though, right? Fucking hells. Encounter one survived. Fifteen minutes down, four days to go.”

Vyrrd ruffled his wings at her, indignantly, from his new perch on the footboard of her four-poster bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Mother bitches terribly when you’re a rat, though, so, you know. Suck it up for a few days. We’re both making sacrifices here. I’ll give you pizza after.” A suspicious croak. “Loads of pizza. I promise.” A less suspicious croak. “As much pizza as you want. Which is gonna be like half a slice, because rats have super tiny stomachs. Dumbass.”

She toed her mismatched boots off and left them by the end of the bed, padding over in her socks to the old, elaborately-carved wardrobe in the corner. When she opened it, it was already full of the clothes she’d brought home for her visit – the staff must have at least partially unpacked for her. The thought sent her stomach into an uncomfortable curl. She wasn’t a fan of other people touching her stuff.

Hanging on the far right of the rail, though, was the outfit her mother had mentioned. Nadi took it out, and held it up to the refracted light of the crystalline chandelier, appraising it with a critical eye.

The shirt was thin, bordering on sheer, a deep, cool charcoal that highlighted the blue undertones of her obsidian skin. It was unadorned, so as not to detract from the suit it was designed to accompany – a darkly iridescent, exquisitely tailored waistcoat and trousers. The fabric of the slim trousers caught the light in unusual ways as Nadi twisted the hanger back and forth, the dark fabric picking up oil-slick hints of green, blue, purple, and pink in every crease and fold. The waistcoat went a step further, the front covered entirely in exquisite, carefully-arranged raven feathers, sleek and gorgeous, its fastenings disguised beneath the plumage.

Hung next to it was a jacket, no doubt also carefully tailored to her measurements, made of the same iridescent fabric as the pants and the back of the waistcoat. It was lined with a silk so deeply purple-blue it was almost black, and buttoned up to the throat with silver buttons stamped with the Ainseelie crest.

“The bitch’s got good taste in clothes, if nothing else,” murmured Nadi, running a finger down the front of the waistcoat and sighing at the texture of feathers against skin. “And you’ll match beautifully, Vyrrd, huh? Lucky you.”

Vyrrd, now underneath the bed and undoubtedly hunting for months-old crumbs, communicated his disinterest in Drow fashion with a half-hearted croak.

A cursory check of the wardrobe floor found a new pair boots, sturdy and ankle-high, polished to a mirror shine. There was new jewellery in the jewellery box on her desk, too, as Nadi had known there would be. No new earrings or rings – her mother had given up on that particular battle a while ago, irritably resigned to Nadi’s assortment of diamond studs and platinum hoops and mismatched finger jewellery – but there was a new string of diamonds, so small they’d do little more than catch the light in a fine sparkle, long enough to wrap several times around one wrist.

“Pretty,” she murmured, absently, testing the drape of it over her fingers and tilting her hand back and forth to make it catch the light. It glittered, beautifully, like a line of tiny stars across the inky darkness of her skin. It would turn into a constellation when worn, she had no doubt, throwing delicate points of light across the oily darkness of her clothing.

She dropped it back in the jewellery box, pleased but disinterested, and wandered over to join Vyrrd in poking around under the bed.

There, directly under where her pillow would lie on the mattress above, was her faithful old loose flagstone. Or rather, loosened flagstone. She’d rather deliberately cracked one corner of the enormous slab in her youth, and pried it up to carve out a small hollow beneath in which to stash anything she didn’t want her mother’s prying eyes to find.

She was pleased to discover it as undisturbed as ever – though she had no doubts that if her Luarine had found it, it would have been the first thing out her mouth the minute Nadi walked through the door.

Nudging aside a couple of books, a sheaf of papers, and a small pouch, she pulled free a heavy bottle of amber liquid. Dwarvish whiskey, old and extortionately expensive, pilfered unnoticed from her father’s collection several years earlier. It was still half-full, and Nadi hummed happily, standing up and letting it swing idly by the neck from her fingertips as she padded over to the ensuite bathroom door.

The bath had been filled, no doubt by the same attentive servants who had feverishly unpacked her belongings whilst she’d been waylaid by her parents. The water in the claw-footed tub steamed faintly. It was probably hot enough to nearly scald, just the way she liked it. It was both gratifying and uncomfortable to realise that someone in this godforsaken house knew her tastes well enough to hew so closely to them, down to even her bathing preferences.

After several years of an – admittedly high-class – student lifestyle, such luxuries seemed both foreign and awkward, an unexpected and delightful-yet-discomforting indulgence.

Nadi set the bottle of spirits gently down on the floor by the edge of the tub, and considered the water for a moment. Her gaze settled on the slow curls of steam from the surface, unfocusing as she tracked the random, meandering path of the vapour. Another increment of tension eased from her shoulders at the minor dissociation, and she exhaled slowly, letting her eyes fall shut.

Her internal deliberation about whether to strip off there and then and climb straight into the hot water, however, was interrupted by an insistent knocking at her bedroom door.

Eyes snapping open, Nadi stifled a groan, shoulders hunching up once more. “Coming!” she called, loudly, making sure to kick the door to the bathroom closed behind her as she left to answer. “Gimmie a moment!”

A cursory glance around her room confirmed nothing offensive in view – the flagstone section had been replaced, Vyrrd was still busy beneath the bed, and the bottle of illicit whiskey was out of sight behind the door of the en-suite. Satisfied within reason, Nadi braced herself, and unlocked the door to her room before pulling it open.

She needn’t have bothered with the pre-emptive stress. No sooner had she opened the door, than Veryris had thrown herself through it, dragging her younger sister into a tight embrace. “Nadi! You’re back! Finally. It’s so good to see you.”

Her vision was, abruptly, filled with the lower quarter of her sister’s head – a deep purple-charcoal cheek and long, silvery braids twisted into an immaculately elegant hairstyle. Her elder sister was everything she wasn’t; long-haired where she was close-cropped, tall where she was short, willowy where she was stocky, sociable where she was awkward.

Sometimes it seemed hard to believe they were genetically related, with the differences as stark as they were.

Nadi tolerated the embrace for a polite, painful count of five, before disentangling herself. “Vey,” she said, voice soft and uncharacteristically warm, despite the lingering discomfort of unanticipated physical contact still prickling across her skin. “It’s good to see you too. How’ve you been? Surviving under the watchful eye of the dread Lord Ainseelie?”

Veyris laughed, a light, high-pitched sound that was significantly more sincere than her mother’s. “I’ve got my townhouse, thank you very much, so I’m hardly under his eye. Or anyone’s, for that matter. And Uncle Rhyldyn is far more interesting to be around than Mother and Father, so you needn’t worry about me. The internship is a dream. I’m learning more about politics than I could ever have dreamed– and I’m almost starting to believe Mother’s theories about him handing off the Ainseelie title to me. I mean, he’s still unmarried, well into middle age, and the kind of duties he’s having me perform–”

She cut herself off, eyes bright with obvious excitement. “Ahem..” Her cheeks darkened a little, clearly embarrassed with herself at such an enthusiastic, unseemly outpouring – enough so that even Nadi could spot it. “Anyway, enough about me. How’re you? How’s school been? You must tell me everything! I’ve been surviving on Mother’s gossip and parliamentary intrigue for months and, I must say, it’s not half as interesting as the stories you come back with.”

For a moment, Nadi considered spilling her guts to her big sister. About Professor Egreth, about the academic suspension, about the Feywild and the strange people in it. About the tiefling coming to crash at her dorm. Or even about just some of it, just the funny bits, just about her brief and bizarre trip to the Feywild in all its improbability and alien beauty.

Veyris would have loved the it, she knew, if only for the drama and high elegance of it all. Her sister had always loved the fey. Or had, at least, loved the romanticised, fairy-tale version of what the fey could be, learned through childhood books and second-hand stories.

In the end, though, Nadi bit her tongue. “Still haven’t got Jazreth expelled,” she said instead, with a toothy grin and a slight pang in her ribs at the lie-by-omission. “I accidentally set a water elemental loose in the lab about a month ago, so. That’s a thing. The vice-provost just loves me, right now.”

“Oh, gods.” Veyris made a hand gesture commonly used to ask for Bahamut’s protection, only half-jokingly. “You’re going to give me grey hairs, Nadi. Grey hairs. Uncle Rhyldyn will ask me where my beautiful white hair has gone, and I shall have to blame you.” Her lips, though, curled into a co-conspiratorial smile. “You’ve got to tell me all about it. After dinner. And over some kind of alcohol, since I know you’re good at swindling that from the serving staff – so I’ve something to look forward to, after Mother’s no doubt extensive interrogation of us both..”

“I’ll bother the cook into giving us some of the good wine. Assuming Mother’s managed to keep same cook as the last time I was here. And assuming I survive dinner,” grumbled Nadi, her good mood soured by the reminder of what was to come. “Mother’s trying to set me up with some nice, eligible Drow heir, again. Because gods forbid I be allowed to finish my fucking doctoral studies without the promise of wedding bells at the end.” She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.

“Bahamut’s balls, Nadi,” groaned Veyris. Sympathetic as she was to her sister’s exasperation at their mother’s machinations, she found the endless whining more than a little wearing. “Yes, Mother’s endless matchmaking gets a little tiring, but do stop complaining. Or– I don’t know! Do an Aunt Vierayema, or something! Take a year studying abroad, find someone to marry who’s wealthy but just disreputable enough that you stop getting invited to dinner other every week, and then settle down in that ivory tower of yours for the rest of your life, blissfully free of familial bothering. Honestly.”

Nadi’s lips twitched, somewhere between amusement and irritation. “Or find someone very disreputable, and do an Uncle Tobith, and stop getting invited to any dinners, family or otherwise, ever.”

“Absolutely not.” Veyris levelled a finger at her sister, abruptly deadly serious. “Absolutely, under no circumstances, do an Uncle Tobith. Because you’re my sister, and I love you, and I do not want to deal with the enormous mess that would be you getting disinherited and then me trying to re-inherit you when I’m Lady Ainseelie.” Her lips twisted with distaste. “And also because if you run off with a tiefling called Delirium, of all the gods-awfully tacky names to choose, I’m not sure I’ll want to re-inherit you.”

“I was joking!” Nadi raised her hands in a gesture of truce. “I was joking, Vey. I’m not planning on running off with a tiefling any time soon. Or getting disinherited.” She pursed her lips, expression turning bitter. “The family fortune is an excellent incentive to stay on Mother’s good side. Trust me.”

She was abruptly glad, though, that she hadn’t mentioned the Feywild, or any of the people she’d met in it, to Vey. An elf with more knives than manners, a tiefling with entirely the wrong sort of manners, a halfling in the employ of the Baba Jaga, and a half-elven bastard… She could imagine what Veyris might have said about them and, though she couldn’t say why, her sister’s imagined disapproval left her feeling– unbalanced. She’d met this bizarre group of strangers once, unwillingly, in deeply awkward circumstances, and had left with no debt towards them whatsoever. And yet…

And yet.

“Anyway,” Nadi said, her mood abruptly soured for no reason she could put her finger on. “Given I haven’t pulled a Vierayema yet, I should get ready for dinner. I guess. Brace myself for whatever new idiot Mother’s found for me. No point getting myself mildly to moderately disowned if I’m not going to do it in style.”

Veyris sighed. “Yes,” she agreed, with a tired flap of her fingers. “Go– I don’t know. Have a soak in the bath, or something.” She was familiar with her sister’s sharp tongue and mercurial temper, but that didn’t make it any less wearing to deal with – especially when she’d clearly stumbled across some conversational pitfall so well-hidden she hadn’t even known it existed. “And, Nadi? Cheer up, for the love of Bahamut. It’s a few days of dinners and parties, not a bloody death sentence.”

“Not for you, maybe,” said Nadi, darkly, but the corner of her lip twitched all the same. Veyris stuck her tongue out, and Nadi responded in kind, her poor mood lifting for a heartbeat at the childish display of fondness. “Anyway. Fuck off, Vey, I want a bath.”

“As her highness demands,” demurred Veyris, sweeping out of the bedroom door with a grace Nadi had never seen in her before. Clearly, hanging around Uncle Rhyldon had been rubbing off on her mannerisms. “See you at dinner, sister dearest!”

The door clicked shut behind Veyris before Nadi could respond. She was left standing by her desk, in silence, staring at the satchel and the stack of books upon it.

She was seized, suddenly, by the urge to push them off – to sweep everything off, the bag, the books, the papers, the quill and ink, the candles, in a single violent motion, send it all crashing to the ground. To turn it all into a ruined heap on the floor, to scream and not stop screaming–

She picked up the book atop the stack, instead, and padded absently back into to the bathroom. The muscles in her jaw and neck were so tight they hurt, a dull ache at the edge of her senses. Her shoulders were up around her ears once more, and no amount of willing would push them down again.

The bath was still hot, at least. She set the book down on the tiled bathroom floor, next to the bottle of whiskey, shedding her clothes in a graceless heap. The water burned her feet a little, as she stepped in, but she ignored it, gritting her teeth against the bite and sinking her entire body down into it until she was submerged deep enough to scream.

It was only when her lungs started to ache, oxygen-starved, that she resurfaced, gasping for air through the near-scalding water rolling down her face.

Tilting her head back until it was resting on the rim of the tub, she stuck an arm over the edge, groping for the neck of the bottle of Dwarvish whiskey. She needed a drink, clearly. Being so tense hat she was already resorting to screaming where no one could hear was a poor omen for the long weekend ahead.

No, what she needed was clearly a long soak in an obscenely hot bath, and a drink. Or two. Or three. And perhaps a chapter or two of dense arcane theory, as well. That ought to be enough to numb her to the dinner ahead, to leech the tension out of her shoulders and the building headache out the base of her skull.

Her questing fingers found the whiskey, and she grasped it, thumbing the cap off without looking. Sitting up just enough that she wouldn’t choke on it, she took a generous sip, exhaling slowly as the burn of it worked its way down her throat to the pit of her belly. The combination of heat and alcohol began turning her muscles to soft clay, and she let her eyes slip closed for a second – luxuriating in the sensation, trying to grasp at the singular moment of thoughtless peace and keep it.

The moment lingered for a heartbeat, and then it slipped through her grasping fingers, ephemeral.

Sighing in disappointment, Nadi took another sip of the whiskey, and traced the glyph for Mage Hand in the air. She murmured the activation word, and hummed satisfaction as the spectral fingers grasped the book, lifting it up over the bath and flipping to the page she’d last left off. Dense arcane theory it was, then – or rather, it was that or masturbation, and she really wasn’t in the mood.

Arranging herself a little more comfortably in the bath, the heat of the water seeping into her bones and the whiskey turning her head pleasantly numb, she exhaled slowly, and began to read.

[buffyversefanfiction]

Tristan Tormented

Warning: I do not own the rights to the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, its spin-off series Angel, its dark horse comics continuation series, or any of the characters created by Joss Whedon and others in the Buffyverse. 15 years +, Mild to Strong Violence, Sexual References. F/F, F/M, M/M, Other +

Volume 8 - Shadow Self (Part Two)

PART ONE HERE

“All that I am saying is I do not see why Spike needs to come especially with Buffy on her way there is such a thing as too many people for a séance.” Angel complained to Faith as the two of them walked through a cemetery located somewhere within New York. “Spike knew Mandi and their friendship believe it or not is a lot less complicated than Tristan and Mandi’s so if it is her haunting Tristan my bet is on Spike convincing her to either lay off or crossover.” Faith explained to the brooding vampire. “Spike is needed for this little séance you and Buffy are here to be there for your kid.” “Is Willow coming too? I mean Buffy goes everywhere with her friends and having a witch during a séance makes sense.” Angel replied to her, giving in to the notion of having to soon play nice with Spike. “I doubt Dawn and Xander are going to be there with the baby and everything…but then again I doubted Spike would be there and hey presto.” “Calm down big guy,” Faith laughed at Angel’s jealousy with Spike. “Willow is not coming I told B it was better for her to come on her own so you and her could you know do whatever parents do with their kids that does not involve messing them up.” “And yet Spike still got an invite?” Angel moaned once more. “I get you and Spike have this beef over B and then there is some messed up shit with Dru that I do not even want to approach but you have both been fighting on the same side for a while now it is long overdue that you two stop being a pair of bitches and learn how to get along.” Faith told him straight. “The last thing Tristan needs right now is dad to be fighting with mum’s on/off lover over stupid shit!” “You are right.” Angel reluctantly admitted. “When did you become the voice of reason?” “I know, scary right?” Faith laughed. “New York’s been a good move for me so far…well until Dru made her little comeback anyways.” “Do you think it is Mandi that is haunting Tristan or something else?” Angel questioned her as the two stopped walking and stood still on the path. “Honestly, I think Mandi is gone and that’s the worst of this because if she is at least haunting him then Tristan has a chance of closure.” Faith replied to Angel. “But then on the sinister side ghosts are known for breaking windows but other than Tristan’s nightmares there has been no other signs of a haunting.” “Well he did not break the windows himself so if this séance is a bust then we take to the research I guess.” Angel answered her, “I hope for Tristan’s sake it is Mandi.” “Never did I think we’d be hoping for a haunting.” Faith said, as the two shared a laugh with each other. “I miss the good old days when it was just vampires and slayers.” Faith was glad Angel was in town despite their awkward attempt at becoming something more the two of them had always made good friends, in a way she was thankful for the fallout they had over a year ago as it led to the two of them finding their unique friendship once again, a friendship Faith valued deeply. Faith had always had a soft side for Angel and it was good to learn he did too but after their brief romance which was just a series of make out sessions she was glad to once again refer to him as a friend having never really been one for relationships, or maybe Faith had just not met someone she could imagine herself being all in for.

With the constant nightmares, the exploding windows and the shock arrival of his father Angel, Tristan Summers was more exhausted than he had ever been before but with the hope of a séance getting to the bottom of his recent ordeal Tristan decided to get some time to himself and ran a bath. Tristan never lasted long lying in the bath he had made for himself before he quickly found himself falling asleep despite trying his hardest to avoid it he couldn’t resist his exhaustion any longer and before long he had found himself fast asleep. As his eyes closed he found himself transported to standing in the garden of his family home in Riverborn, shocked to how he got there and uncertain of whether or not he was dreaming as he looked at his home noticing it looked lived in and abandoned like the last time he was there as he began walking towards the front door only to be left shocked as he reached the porch to find Drusilla opening the front door. “The demon inside you grows stronger by the day my darling boy.” She said as she walked over and gently raised her right hand to stroke Tristan’s right cheek softly. “You have been lost for a long time but soon you will find your real home…with me.” “No, you are wrong this is just some weird way of you messing with my mind again.” Tristan replied as he pulled away from the female vampire. “I will never be with you again unless that is me killing you.” “Silly boy if you wanted me dead you would have tried harder,” Drusilla laughed, revealing what Tristan already knew himself deep down. “Yes, you are mad, but I am the last bit of family you have, and mummy will always love you!” “You killed my friend!” Tristan snapped at her. “You and I both know I was not the only one to kill her.” Drusilla replied, adding more guilt to Tristan’s conscious. Before Tristan could reply to Drusilla he suddenly found himself in a dark cave within a blink of the eye, confused by how he had went from his family home to a cave so quickly as he looked around for any sign of Drusilla only to be met by nothing but empty space and shadows. He wanted to go towards the light and walk out of the cave but something inside him wanted to see where the cave led to and before long Tristan found himself walking further and further into the darkness until he found the first slayer stood in front of him. “You’re the first slayer I remember you from my last wacky dream.” Tristan greeted her. “Why are you here now?” “Be stronger than the monster inside!” Sineya warned Tristan, but before he could respond to her he felt a cold chill behind his shoulder which forced him awake, back in the bathroom of the apartment he shared in the bathroom, back in a now cold bath. “Well that was different,” Tristan stated as he looked around the bathroom. “At least there’s no broken windows this time.” “Hello friend,” A version of Mandi greeted Tristan as she appeared from out of thin air with jet black eyes, shocking Tristan by her presence. “Goodbye friend!” The twisted jet black eyed Mandi grabbed a hold of Tristan’s head and shoved his entire body under water with an unfamiliar superhuman strength as Tristan began struggling to come back up only to be met by Mandi’s cackling as she continued to drown the demonic slayer.

Buffy Summers stood in the alleyway outside of Rogue’s front doors hesitant to walk into the bar owned by her son and her former friend turned enemy turned friend again Faith, as she tried to prepare herself to go into mum mode. Now when it came to monster hunting, she was an expert, being a big sister she managed and she believed she was a good friend but when it came to being a mother she had little practice only having a few weeks with her new born baby before losing him to a portal to the past and she was more than nervous to take up her motherly duties once again. It did not help that her son seemed to be thick as thieves with Faith which added to Buffy’s fears knowing that Tristan could relate more to Faith than her, even Angel had one up on her in the department not to mention nobody exactly asked Buffy to come to L.A. to help Tristan’s redemption, although nobody told her not to either. Suddenly a loud screaming sound came from within the bar that Buffy instantly recognized as her son’s scream forcing her to face her fears and run into the bar as fast as she could, hearing his screams louder when inside the bar which were now matched with sounds of splashing. Buffy quickly jumped over the bar counter and ran into the backroom, rushing towards the stairs which she quickly charged up before reaching the bathroom door and kicking the locked door open with force shocked to see Tristan lying there in the bath looking completely traumatized but his head was now above water and as Buffy looked around the room she concluded he was alone. “Did a ghost try to drown you? They love drowning people, well not just ghosts actually vamps love it too but their a little better at it, especially The Master.” Buffy rambled to Tristan before receiving a non-amused look from her son. “I guess I should close the door and wait downstairs for you to get changed.” She could tell something had just happened that she had just stopped something from going any further but she could also tell her son was wet, naked and in need of getting changed and so she left him to it quickly closing the bathroom door behind her as she left Tristan alone in the bathroom once again. Whatever attacked him was clearly gone and so Buffy felt safe in leaving him to get himself ready before meeting her downstairs, saving him from whatever was tormenting him was an easy task for her, it was just another day as the slayer to her but she knew what would come next, what he needed from her, would prove to be her hardest job yet; being a mum.

After yet another near death experience Tristan had well and truly met his limit, he was done with all things supernatural, with always having to fight every single day and mostly he was done with being haunted by a friend who he believed had every right to torment him like he believed she was. He had spent so much time loving Lucas and then loving Dante that he never stopped to fully appreciate the kind of love he had with his best friend Mandi Jenkins, a girl who always had his back no matter what and even plunged forward into the darkness with him so he did not have to be alone. This loyalty did not go unpunished with Tristan choosing Dante and Drusilla over Mandi repeatedly before going on to kill Mandi’s boyfriend and yet Mandi was one of the biggest advocates for his redemption. The truth is he had given up on her and even himself a long time ago and yet she had never give up on him, her belief in him being what Tristan truly believed had left to her untimely death at the hands of Drusilla. “Why did you have to be such a good friend?” A now fully dressed Tristan mumbled to himself as he looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You deserved so much better than me!” Tristan continued to investigate his reflection, beginning to notice that his eyes kept changing from it’s normal color to jet black before he started blinking quicker and quicker hoping to see his eyes stay their normal color, growing more and more frustrated, leading him to punch the mirror with his right fist as his face went full vampire mode. “That is who you really are, you can keep trying to pretend you’re not a monster but deep down we both know better.” Dante stated as he appeared from out of thin air, shocking Tristan out of his vamp face, as he struggled to understand how his dead lover was suddenly standing right next to him. “You are not real you cannot be real!” Tristan replied, after managing to stumble up the courage to speak. “If you were going to haunt me you would never have waited so long…” “Oh, I am real I’m just not Dante it’s just easier to talk to you with a face you like.” The being displaying Dante’s body claimed. “You tried drowning me.” Tristan responded, admitting for the first time Mandi was not behind recent events. “You’re a vampire you cannot really drown,” The Dante imposter scoffed. “I just needed to get your attention.” “Why?” Tristan wondered, fearing the answer. “Go downstairs and find out for yourself.” The enigma replied before vanishing how he appeared, within a blink of an eye. It was in that very moment Tristan knew for a fact neither Mandi or any other ghost was haunting him, that Drusilla was right about her claims of the soul he now had being that of the demon’s, the shadow demon’s. He knew that the thing plaguing him was actually himself or rather something within himself and the only way to get rid of this plague was to face the ancient demon within, no matter it’s risk, the risk being the potential of losing his soul forever.

Buffy, Angel and Spike all sat at the counter of the bar on the stools within the Rogue’s bar as Faith stood behind the bar ready to begin a séance she did not fully believed needed to be performed but knew Tristan needed all of their company now more than ever. Buffy had informed them all about her bathroom break in with Tristan, how spooked her son looked by the time she had got to him and how there was no sign of anyone else, not that it would be the first time the slayer had encountered an invisible foe but it was the first time one plagued her son. Faith shared the nightmares she had witnessed Tristan waking up from, how he was convinced Mandi was haunting him and how deeply she feared that the demonic slayer was beginning to lose his mind at the hands of something, if not himself. Angel admitted to his worries about the son he shared with his first love Buffy but also admitted to the hopes that they could pull him through this, being somewhat confident after his recent father/son moment with Tristan. And as for Spike, he didn’t have much to add to the conversation, mostly avoiding the awkwardness of being around Buffy after their latest breakup and the general feuding he had with Angel lasting centuries long, while drinking the bottle of beers Faith had been handing him in order to keep him there. They talked about Tristan over and over while all trying to avoid any other topic of conversation; Faith wanting to avoid the Buffy, Angel and Spike love triangle that never went without it’s drama, Buffy wanting to stop herself admitting her jealousy over Faith’s bond with her son and Angel and Spike just wanting to avoid each other. “He has been up there a really long time!” Faith noticed, keeping the conversation on Tristan still, as she began to grow more worried for the demonic slayer. “Maybe one of us should go up there…” Buffy suggested, fearing being the one to check on her son but also fearing to stay alone with Angel and Spike. “I am more than willing…” Angel began to say, before being cut off. “I’ll go check!” Faith interrupted, not meaning to be rude but just being used to the one handling Tristan, her eagerness not going unnoticed by Buffy. Before long Faith found herself in the backroom of the bar and rushing up the stairs, shouting Tristan’s name repeatedly as she walked into the hallway of their shared apartment before noticing the bathroom door was left opened. She wasted no time into walking into the bathroom, already knowing deep down she wouldn’t find Tristan there only to find the broken mirror as evidence to her theory, concluding Tristan had left to god knows where, fearing if she did not act quick she may never see him again as she worried about what danger lay ahead for the demonic slayer. One thing Faith knew for certain wherever he was going spelled trouble and she was going to need Buffy, Spike and Angel’s best efforts to find Tristan in time and save him from whatever had left him so tormented.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[nicolewrites]

We Stand, Fate-Tested - II

Sticking with the longer chapters. I finished this part up instead of an essay due in 5 hours, so it’s a gift you should run with. I have the outline for the story roughly in place, but no promises about when the next update will be. 

Rating: T+ Genre: Mystery, Friendship, Romance Characters: [Byleth/My Unit, Dimitri B.], [Byleth/My Unit, Claude R.] Words: 5,826

Byleth leads the first tutorial of the year. / The Blue Lions return home for the second time since the war's end.

AO3 | FFN

II - In Circles We Tread

Garreg Mach University - 14 Horsebow Moon, 732 AU

Byleth arrived at the classroom where her tutorial section was meeting ten minutes early. She was hoping that whatever class had the room before her would be done early so that she could set up her laptop and her review slides for the session. Fortunately, there didn’t appear to have been a class in the room so she was able to enter as soon as she arrived.

Byleth was in the midst of setting up her laptop with the tangled, university-supplied cables when her first student arrived. It was the same girl with straight, dark hair that had been the first student to arrive in the lecture the week before. She approached the front desk and smiled at Byleth.

Byleth paused in her set up. “Hi,” she greeted.

“Hello, Miss Eisner,” the girl replied. “My name is Lysithea.”

Byleth nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Lysithea. You’re a bit early, but please, have a seat wherever you’d like.”

The girl nodded and sat right in the front row. She pulled out a laptop and began tapping away at the keyboard. Byleth went back to setting up her presentation as more students trickled in. She recognized the boy with green hair, half of the group of students that had sat near her in lecture, as well as Claude and Dimitri. Claude took a seat in the back, flanked by a girl with bright pink hair and a boy with purple hair and expensively styled clothes while Dimitri sat with the friends he had sat with in lecture.

Byleth finished setting up her slides and glanced at the clock. It was one minute before 1:30, when the tutorial was supposed to begin so she stood up, assessing her class. Her tutorial section had half the class and Seteth ran the tutorial with the other half. As it was the first tutorial of the section, attendance was at almost, or entirely, full capacity, something which likely wouldn’t continue throughout the whole semester.

“Hi everyone,” she greeted when the clock finally ticked over to 1:30. The chatter in the room mostly died out and all the curious faces turned to face her. A bead of nervousness pricked in her chest, but she smiled and forced it down. “As I’m sure you guys know, I’m Byleth Eisner and I’ll be your TA for this class. I’m leading this tutorial section, Tutorial 2, and Dr. Cichol leads Tutorial 1.”

She leaned down and moved to the first slide in her slideshow which was a trio of pictures. The first was Byleth and Seteth working in a lab doing hands-on analysis of artifacts. The second was a shot of Byleth posing with her undergrad thesis team at Shambhala where they had done an expedition. The last photo was Byleth in the Main Hall of the university as she presented her undergraduate thesis.

“I’m in my first year of my Masters here at Garreg Mach University with a specialization in Unification Era Archaeology focused on the Guardian of Order. I did my undergraduate degree here and graduated with a combined honours in Archaeology and History. Dr. Cichol is currently my Masters supervisor which is why I’m here as your TA.”

There were a few murmurs across the class as people assessed her qualifications. Byleth ignored them and moved to her next slide which held a photo of the ancient sword that was rumoured to have been wielded by the Guardian of Order. They had discussed it in lecture since it was one of very few relics from the Unification Era that hadn’t been lost to looters or fire. However, since it was still early in the semester, they’d looked at the blade objectively, not as a relic wielded by the Guardian.

“Archaeology is the study of material remains of humans and societies. In our first class we talked about the first step of working with artifacts: description, classification, and analysis. The next step is the placement of an artifact within its historical context. If we take this image here, can someone give me a description for it?” She gestured to the screen and the image of the sword. “And, for the first few classes if you can just say your name beforehand so I can get to know everyone, that would be much appreciated.”

The blonde girl sitting with Dimitri raised her hand and Byleth nodded. “I’m Ingrid,” the girl introduced, brushing her braid back over her shoulder. “The first step would be to identify the weapon as an ancient blade, likely a longsword. It appears to be made of some kind of bone or clay material due to its lack of metallic qualities.”

Byleth nodded. “Excellent, thank you, Ingrid. Now, can someone give me a guess about the historical context of the blade based off of that?”

Lysithea, the girl who had been early for class, raised her hand. “Given the design of the blade and its recovery location, this is likely a blade that had been used in the Unification War. Due to appearance, it is likely that the blade was used by a highly ranked soldier, officer, or commander. It fell to disuse probably after the fire in 101 and 102 AU.”

Byleth nodded and was about to commend Lysithea when Claude raised his hand. She raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to speak.

Claude was leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head as he made steady eye contact with Byleth. “Maybe I just know this as a History major, but that blade fell to disuse before the Great Fire of Garreg Mach. It would have been around 9 AU that it was no longer wielded. It’s structure greatly resembles the other legendary weapons of the time known as ‘Relics’.”

Byleth appraised Claude. He was correct, of course, but it had taken her a lot of research to actually find the year when the Guardian was reported to have disappeared, leaving her legendary blade to the Royal Collection. “That is correct, Claude,” she agreed. “This sword,” she paused to continue the presentation on her laptop which let the label pop up on the screen, “is known to us as the Guardian’s Blade, the weapon that was wielded by the Guardian of Order in the Unification War.”

There were a few more jumbled murmurs around the room as students processed what she was saying.

“Pardon me, Miss Eisner,” the green-haired boy said, raising a hand, “if you’re saying this weapon is one of the Relics, why was it recovered separately from the rest of the ancient weapons?”

“That’s an excellent question,” she trailed off, gesturing for the student to give his name.

“Linhardt.”

“Linhardt,” Byleth repeated. “In the year 7 AU, after the death of the Saviour King, the Guardian of Order called for the collection of the Relics to be displayed as artifacts and historical trophies instead of used as weapons. It has never been confirmed, but historians have theorized that since the Guardian of Order disappeared just under a year after her husband’s passing, she took her blade with her when she vanished. The discovery of the sword here at Garreg Mach is one of the biggest mysteries regarding her disappearance.”

At the back of the classroom, Claude’s friends were whispering, but Claude’s green eyes were fixed sharply on Byleth as she explained. Byleth tried to ignore him as she continued to field questions as well as offer her own discussion questions. The rest of the 50-minute section passed relatively quickly, but right until the end, Byleth could have sworn that Claude didn’t take his eyes off of her.

At 2:20, Byleth concluded the discussion and dismissed class, saying she would see everyone back the next week. Conversations broke out and people started packing up. She unplugged her laptop from the projector and started putting away her own things. She slid her laptop into her bag and looked up when someone cleared their throat in front of the podium. Byleth found Claude smirking at her, his hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack.

“Good discussion,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” Byleth replied. She still felt on edge around Claude. There was something about him that was so infuriatingly familiar and she just couldn’t figure out what it was because it certainly wasn’t just because he was the son of an ambassador.

“Combined honours with History, hm?” he continued. “Sounds familiar.”

Byleth rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “Yes, it appears we have similar interests.” She contemplated something for a moment before she pushed forward with it: “Have you taken a lot of courses in Unification Era history?”

Claude shrugged. “I took 234 and I’m currently in 316.”

Byleth had taken both of those courses herself. History 234 was the Unification War History course and History 316 was History of the Unification Years. Neither was particularly heavy in information about the Guardian of Order and the Guardian’s Blade, topics Claude had already proved himself knowledgeable in.

“Is knowing everything just a hobby then?” she asked.

Claude laughed this time. “If I knew everything I don’t think I’d be in your class, Teach.”

The nickname caught her off guard and she blinked dumbly at him for a moment. Claude seemed to recognize his blunder and he winced.

“Ah, sorry if that was weird, it just felt right.”

Byleth bit her lip and shook her head. “It’s fine, really,” she assured. In all honesty, the nickname had felt fitting and familiar. It was weird.

“Anyways, I don’t suppose there’s any way we could sit down and talk about your thesis, is there? I’m incredibly curious about the research that you’ve been doing,” Claude continued after a short cough.

Byleth raised an eyebrow. “I have office hours and my email is on the course outline,” she replied flatly.

Claude laughed. “Yes, but your office hours will be filled with students with academic, course-related questions. Email, also, doesn’t have the same personal touch as a face-to-face conversation.”

Byleth sighed. “Look, Claude, I’m your TA, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He held up his hands innocently. “I’ve just got questions about your Masters, surely that’s an innocent enough intention? What about Thursday afternoon at the coffee shop in the student centre?”

Byleth considered it for a moment. There was nothing in her contract that said she couldn’t get coffee with someone who was interested in her academic projects and if she managed to convince Claude to pursue a graduate degree in her field after graduation, she knew Seteth wouldn’t care about the nature of their conversation.

She sized up Claude and folded her arms. “I’ll meet you at Anna’s at 4 on Thursday,” she consented.

Claude’s smirk widened and he nodded. “I look forward to it, Teach.”

With one last cheeky wink, Claude strode away and headed for the door where his two friends had lingered, waiting for him. Byleth watched him for a moment before she resumed packing up her things. She slid her attendance sheet into her folder and placed it in her bag.

“Miss Eisner,” a new voice interrupted.

Byleth shook her head and looked up. “Byleth, please.”

Dimitri, standing in front of her desk, gave her a small smile. “Byleth,” he agreed. “I hope Claude wasn’t bothering you. He’s a strong personality.”

Byleth laughed lightly and smiled. “No, no, he was just asking about my area of study. I’m happy to talk about it. I wouldn’t be studying it if I wasn’t.”

Dimitri looked relieved. “That’s good to hear. You’re certainly interesting to listen to in tutorial. You know your stuff.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Admittedly, I’m feeling a bit out of my depth in this class.”

Byleth nodded. “That’s understandable, but really, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You’ve got some smart classmates, if today was any indication, and both Dr. Cichol and I have office hours reserved for this class section so feel free to come to either of us if you need anything.”

Dimitri nodded. “Yes, thank you very much.” Someone called his name from by the door and he turned to walk away, pausing once to give her a last goodbye.

Byleth pulled her bag up onto her shoulder and bit her lip. Dimitri and Claude and Edelgard were so familiar that it hurt her to think about them. Even so, she had a job to do and a meeting with Seteth to get to. She strode out of the classroom, fishing her tangled headphones out of her pocket.

- ~ -

Seteth placed a new folder on the desk between them, gesturing for her to take a look. Byleth slid it towards herself and opened it. It was a stack of about five pieces of paper and the first was an email between Seteth and the Fhirdiad National Museum of Unification that was set to sponsor the expedition below Garreg Mach.

Byleth scanned the email and grinned when she found the phrase she was looking for. “On behalf of the Board of Directors here at the museum, we consent to allow Miss Byleth Eisner a position on the Garreg Mach Research Team to assist with her academic development,” she read aloud.

Seteth was smiling. “Keep reading.”

“In the interest of the success of the dig, funding has also been secured for an additional team of researchers to join you on this endeavour. The idea is to have undergraduate students join you to develop practical archaeological skills.” Byleth stopped reading abruptly and looked up at Seteth. “Let me get this straight: you not only got approval for me to join, but now they want us to take on a group of undergrads?”

Seteth nodded, knitting his fingers together atop his desk. “I think this will be an interesting opportunity for them.” He reached for the file, pushing Byleth’s hands away and pulling the documentation back towards him. “The expedition is set to begin next year, in the Guardian Moon of the new semester. I was thinking that we would extend this opportunity to the students currently in Archaeology 356. That way we have a semester to evaluate the students so we can choose ones we think will be beneficial, not hindering, to the studies.”

Byleth nodded slowly. “Yeah, that makes sense. Still, this kind of opportunity for undergraduates means everyone will want in. I know I would have when I was in my third year.”

“I’m going to put an announcement up on my website about the opportunity and discuss it next class. I was hoping you would be able to design some kind of application form so that we can immediately narrow down our options.”

Byleth slid her laptop out of her bag and opened a blank document. “What kind of questions were you thinking for the application?”

Seteth pondered for a moment before he answered: “Ask about any experience they have, and how many prior archaeology or history credits they have. I would also like to know about their own interpretation of the Unification Era, since that’s what this is all about.”

“If I asked what they think is a major, lasting influence of the Unification Era on current Fódlani politics?”

Seteth smiled. “I like that.”

“How many students can we take?”

Seteth flipped through papers briefly to find the definite answer. “We can take ten, but that’s too many. I think eight is an appropriate number.”

Byleth noted that down and she tapped out a few more rough questions. “I assume we’ll do a vetting process with the written applications and then call the best candidates for interviews with the rest of our dig team, right?”

“Yes,” Seteth agreed. “It’s important that they meet and can get along with the rest of the team because they are an addition to the team that is meant to help their skills, not hinder the results of our expedition. Too many people have put too much effort into this for it to fail now.”

Byleth knew why Seteth was nervous because the last time someone had led a dig under the university, it had fallen apart just a few weeks after it began. Byleth paused and exhaled slowly. “Seteth, this might be overstepping, but I want to ask about my father.” Seteth tensed and Byleth swallowed her nervousness before continuing. “I know he was a part of the last research expedition to the underside of Garreg Mach five years ago. I know he pulled out of the project part-way through and that the project fell through after he withdrew. What are we going to find down there that caused my father to pull out so suddenly?”

Seteth stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Byleth, are you asking me if I know why your father was killed?”

“No,” she said firmly. “He was stabbed five years ago. That’s unrelated to his work. I’m asking you why the excavation couldn’t continue without my father.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Seteth admitted. “I wasn’t a member of that excavation team. It was led by a woman named Catherine Charon. Catherine cancelled further progress once your father withdrew his support. The excavation was privately funded by a private collector from Zanado and apparently the money stopped once your father left the project.”

Byleth frowned. “My father was a security contractor, not an archaeologist. His withdrawal from the project should have just meant that they brought on someone else, not that they cancelled the dig entirely.”

“I agree. It was something that I could never get Catherine to explain and she left the University that year before I could get a real answer out of her. Your father never liked to talk about it either, as I’m sure you know, and then he died just five months later.”

Byleth sighed. “I’ve been through the site notes and the inventory of every artifact recorded as recovered. There are no mentions of what caused him to pull out or anything that might lend to the private donor withdrawing their support or Dr. Charon calling off the project.”

Seteth studied her for a moment. “Does your interest in being part of this dig only have to do with your father?”

“No,” Byleth assured. “I’m interested in what we might be able to recover and how it can support my thesis, but I won’t say I’m not curious.”

She closed her laptop and stood up from the desk. She pulled her bag up and prepared to head out of Seteth’s office. “My father was a different man after that expedition than when he went into it. I do want to know why, and I don’t want that to happen to anyone else, either, if I can help it.”

- ~ - ~ - ~ -

Garreg Mach Monastery - 21 Red Wolf Moon, Unification Year

A knock at the door drew Byleth’s attention and she turned in her seat to look at the entrance to her room. It was one of the monastery’s monks who stood patiently in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter. Byleth waved her in and the monk bowed briefly before stepping in.

“Your Grace, I have received word from an advanced scout that His Majesty and the court will be arriving in the next few hours.”

Byleth smiled faintly. “Thank you, but please, I’m not the Archbishop yet, so Professor or Byleth is more than fine.”

The monk shook her head, but she was smiling as well. “With all due respect, you are ascending in rank tomorrow, Your Grace. You’ve been acting head of the church for several months as well.” She bowed briefly once more before leaving the room, leaving Byleth alone again.

Byleth sighed and stood from her desk, heading towards her balcony. She pushed open the doors and stepped outside. The stone was cold against her bare feet and the air was chilly enough that she instantly shivered. Byleth looked up at the clear blue sky and twisted the ring on her finger thoughtfully.

After the war had ended, Dimitri had stayed for a month of negotiations with the church and for his coronation before his council of advisors had finally managed to get him to return to Fhirdiad. Byleth missed him dearly–him and Felix and Sylvain and Ingrid and Dedue who had returned with him. Annette and Ashe had stayed at the monastery for another couple of weeks before they too left for the capital, leaving Byleth with only Mercedes, Flayn, Seteth, and the Knights of Seiros.

She and Dimitri had announced their engagement officially on the day of his coronation, but all of their close friends had known much before that point. It had been just over a month now, since all the former Blue Lions had been in one place and even though part of Byleth was dreading her formal ascension to the head of the church, she was grateful for the opportunity it offered to gather her friends and allies in one place.

Of course, there was also the wedding that would follow Byleth’s ascension. She and Dimitri had argued about the wedding for nearly two weeks since while they both wanted a smaller affair, Dimitri had been the only one willing to go through with a small event. Byleth knew that a private wedding would invite more scrutiny than the marriage of the church and the state already would. She also knew it would be important for Dimitri to use the wedding as a political event to continue to smooth relations with former Empire territories. Eventually, her argument had won out and they’d been thrown into planning the wedding of the century.

Byleth didn’t linger too long on the balcony. The chill was going to get to her and she really couldn’t afford to get sick with a few very important days ahead of her. She slipped back inside her chambers and moved to pull on a pair of slip-on shoes to chase away lingering chills. The ornate furniture and decorations in the room felt wrong to her. Three weeks after the war, Rhea had departed and Byleth had moved into the former archbishop’s chambers.

Byleth ran her hand along the top of the dresser near the balcony and frowned. Being in Rhea’s old room felt weird enough on its own, but the fact that Byleth had not gotten a moment alone with Rhea to ask about what Seteth had told her before the former archbishop had departed made her feel even more uncomfortable.

Seteth’s words, and their implications, weighed on her daily. She had not managed to get another candid conversation with her advisor since that day two months ago. Flayn too, seemed to be avoiding Byleth or only approaching her when there were other people around. Byleth pulled her hand off the dresser and touched it to the left side of her chest. As always, there was no heartbeat beneath her palm and she exhaled wearily.

Another sharp knock on the door caused Byleth to jolt upright and snap her hand back to her side. This intruder was a much more welcome sight than the monk who had interrupted her earlier.

“Mercedes!” Byleth exclaimed as her friend stepped into the room.

“Hello Professor!” Mercedes replied cheerfully. “You look lovely,” she complimented.

Byleth blinked and took in her own outfit. She was wearing one of the ceremonial dresses that had been commissioned for her, but it was nowhere near as high end as the dress she would be wearing for her ascension tomorrow. She smoothed her hands over the cream-coloured fabric and smiled softly.

“Thank you. What are you doing up here? I thought you were going to wait in the entrance hall for the others.”

Mercedes laughed. “Well, Professor, we sent someone up to let you know they were almost here, but you never reappeared, so I decided to come fetch you myself.”

“They’re almost here?” Byleth repeated. When the monk had mentioned that they would be arriving in a few hours, she had not been expecting their arrival in the next half hour.

Mercedes’s eyes were shining. “Their party had just been spotted entering the monastery grounds when I came up.”

- ~ -

Standing outside the main entrance of the monastery, Byleth felt like her blood was singing. The first few riders of the party had just crossed into the marketplace of the monastery and already two of the riders were breaking in her direction. Above them, a pegasus whinnied and descended.

Sylvain and Felix, the first two riders, dismounted and covered the remaining distance on foot. Ingrid barely managed to get herself off of her pegasus before she was also breaking towards Byleth and Mercedes. Felix reached her first and he paused, forcing himself into a stiff bow. Byleth rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug. He didn’t reciprocate immediately, but he did pat her back after a moment.

As soon as she released Felix, Sylvain pulled her into a tight hug. Sylvain was wearing more armour than Felix so the hug felt stiffer, but he was warm and solid against her and Byleth drank in his familiarity. She pulled away from Sylvain and turned to hug Ingrid as well. After she had hugged the last of the trio, Byleth stepped back and smiled broadly.

“Welcome back,” she greeted.

Sylvain laughed. “Come on, Professor, we know we’re not the ones you really want to see.” He gestured behind him where the rest of the party was arriving including Ashe, Annette, Gustave, and Dedue.

Byleth’s breath caught as she recognized the rider at the front of the pack. He seemed to have noticed her as well, practically leaping off of his mount and jogging towards her. Byleth brushed past her former students to move towards him, nearly tripping on her dress as she descended the steps. He was in front of her before she could trip, his hands gripping her forearms as he stared at her face. A dazzling smile cracked across Dimitri’s expression and Byleth felt herself smile too.

“Hello, my beloved,” Dimitri greeted gently.

“I missed you,” Byleth said. She had intended for a more eloquent greeting, but her heart had won out and she had spoken the naked truth instead.

The life glimmering in Dimitri’s good eye softened and he bent his head, pressing his forehead to hers. “I missed you too, Byleth,” he murmured.

Byleth didn’t get to reply before he was kissing her. Her hands framed his face as she kissed him back fiercely, pouring a month’s worth of emotion into their reunion kiss. It wasn’t the most proper or befitting of greetings for two authority figures, but it was the genuine, real reaction of two young people in love who had nearly lost each other in a brutal 5-year war. Finally–and unfortunately–Byleth had to pull away, breathing hard.

She laughed when Dimitri didn’t let her pull far away and she felt her adoration for him cause tears to prickle at the corners of her eyes. She ran her thumb across his cheekbone and smiled warmly.

“I don’t know if that was the most proper greeting,” she teased.

Dimitri’s laugh rumbled in his chest. “A man can be excused for missing his fiancé,” Dimitri refuted and Byleth laughed again.

“Welcome back, my love,” she said quietly. “It’s good to see you.”

“And I am always glad to see you,” he replied. He looked past her towards the monastery where many of the clergy were gathered to watch his arrival. “I really have made a scene, haven’t I?”

Byleth slipped her hand into his and tugged him back towards the monastery. “Come on, I want to hear about Fhirdiad. I want to hear from all of you. Surely we can spare an afternoon in the Blue Lion’s classroom to reconnect?”

Dimitri followed her lead as they walked towards the monastery. “You’ll get no complaints from me on that, but won’t Seteth protest?”

Byleth huffed. “I am not Archbishop until tomorrow, but I do hope that he’ll allow me this time with my friends before I saddle myself with responsibility for the rest of my life.”

“I suppose I could busy myself with keeping our guests from Fhirdiad occupied,” Seteth admitted, catching the end of Byleth’s sentence as she and Dimitri rejoined the group gathered at the monastery’s entrance. “Your Majesty, it is nice to see you, as always,” her advisor added for pleasantness’s sake.

Byleth beamed and pulled Dimitri past Seteth heading into the monastery. Their friends, including the rest of the Blue Lions plus Flayn, followed them as Byleth led the way. Byleth watched her friends as they walked, noting who was talking to who and the expressions on faces.

Dedue was listening intently to Mercedes as she spoke softly, Ashe was chatting with Flayn, Annette seemed to be having some kind of minimal conversation with Felix, and Ingrid and Sylvain were conversing in light and teasing tones. Byleth smiled to herself as she watched them and tightened her grip on Dimitri’s hand unintentionally.

“You look satisfied, love, is there something you’d like to share?” Dimitri asked curiously.

Byleth laughed lightly. “I don’t want to scare this away,” she admitted, gently tilting her head in Felix and Annette’s direction. Felix’s ears were pink at the tips and Annette’s cheeks had a rosy glow.

“Ah,” Dimitri replied, his own lips twitching into a smile. “Well I could let it go, but I know Duke Fraldarius has been spending much more time in conversation with Baron Dominic.”

Byleth squeezed his hand. “I wonder why that could be,” she replied teasingly. “Perhaps the same reason why Ashe has been my best communicator with Brigid recently.”

“Or why the son of the esteemed Margrave Gautier has taken to spending his time split between his own lands and the lands of Count Galatea,” Dimitri replied, glancing over at his other childhood friends.

Byleth shook her head fondly. “I don’t think our wedding will be the only one in the future, my love.”

“No, I would be inclined to agree with you on that,” Dimitri hummed.

Finally, their little group reached the room that used to be the Blue Lion’s classroom. All of them stopped just outside the room as if none of them could make themselves set foot inside the room. After a moment of nothing, Byleth dropped Dimitri’s hand and stepped forward across the threshold.

The monastery’s reconstruction effort had obviously begun to move into areas like the classroom since all the furniture was righted and placed mostly back where it had been before the war. The bookshelves were emptier than they used to be, thanks to thieves, and Byleth’s blackboard that had been used for lectures was leaning in two large, broken pieces against the rear wall.

Byleth moved towards it like a magnet and ran her fingers across the still chalk-dusted surface with a wistful smile on her face.

“This place feels like it was frozen in time,” Sylvain said idly as he stepped in and moved towards the windows on the front wall.

Felix snorted. “I’m not sure that’s how I’d describe it.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve been here since the war ended,” Ashe admitted.

Annette nodded. “Me either. I used to come here to work on things when everywhere else was crowded.”

“We’ve shared a lot of memories in this place,” Ingrid agreed. She walked curiously over to one of the bookshelves and pressed her fingers in the empty spaces between books.

“Will you get the Officer’s Academy up and running again, Professor?” Dedue asked after a moment.

Byleth blinked and she realized that she honestly hadn’t even considered it until that point. She had been focusing so much of her effort on unification campaigns and the physical and spiritual repairs to the church that she had almost forgotten it was once a school as well.

“I think we should try,” Dimitri answered for her. He stepped up next to Byleth and wrapped a warm arm around her waist. “So much good came out of this place.”

“I think it would be easy enough to convince my brother to divert some efforts into getting this place all fixed up,” Flayn said brightly. “As much as he tries to pretend, I know he has a soft spot for the Academy and for the Blue Lions House especially since you all did take me on as a student partway through the year.”

“We’d all have to get together more often in that case,” Mercedes said cheerfully. “An annual gathering to celebrate the new classes,” she suggested.

Sylvain chuckled, throwing an arm over Felix’s shoulder as he headed for the centre of the room. “I like that idea, Mercedes. It reminds us all of that fateful day we all took a chance to return here and we met up with our Professor and our Prince again.”

Dimitri tensed at her side, but Sylvain’s words held no malice and he relaxed after a moment. Slowly, the rest of the Blue Lions congregated at the front of the classroom. Annette and Mercedes had linked their arms while Sylvain had thrown his other arm over Ingrid’s shoulders as well. Ashe moved to stand between Ingrid and Annette, Dedue stood between Mercedes and Dimitri, and Flayn slipped in between Byleth and Felix.

In their odd, sort-of circle, Byleth felt a lump well up in her throat. She loved these people more than she knew she was capable of. The moment felt like it needed a toast of some sort to cement it, so Byleth swiped Dimitri’s flask from its position on his belt. Her fiancé made a noise of surprise, but Byleth just ignored him and raised the flask.

“To the best students I could have asked for and the best group of friends I could have ever needed.”

Smiles rippled around the room and Byleth took a swig from the flask, letting the hard liquor Dimitri was carrying burn down her throat as she swallowed. She handed the flask off to him and he took a sip before passing it off to Dedue. The flask made its way around the ring and everyone drank to differing successes (Ashe, Annette, and Flayn pulling strange faces while the rest managed to stomach it with little reaction and Sylvain even took two sips).

“Thank you, my friends,” Byleth continued as she received the flask back from Flayn. “I am so grateful you were all able to come to support me in this endeavour. Your support means so much.”

“Of course, Professor,” Ingrid replied gently. “You believed in us when no one else did so it was only fair that we did the same.”

“Besides,” Dimitri continued, “my rule is nothing without the support of the Church of Seiros.”

Byleth rolled her eyes and elbowed him, but he just tightened his grip on her waist and leaned down to kiss her temple. She smiled.

[lilacmoon83]

Finding You Always

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Chapter 206: The Brightest Star in the Sky

The young man sighed, as he trekked after his determined cousin. They were about the same age, but decidedly had very different interests. As always though, he tagged along to make sure she didn't get into too much trouble at these conventions.

His cousin Nora loved anything considered weird, paranormal, or of a conspiracy nature. So seven years ago, when that crazy storm had happened in Seattle, his cousin had been enthralled from that moment and ever since she had been exploring every single aspect of that day.

She did have a point. Even he, like most, suspected that the official story the Feds fed the public about that day was garbage. But he, like most, didn't really know what to do about it so they moved on with their lives. But not Nora and she had gotten into some trouble early on in her days of spelunking in the woods of Maine and into fights at the conventions. So here he was again, tagging along to another conspiracy convention in Misty Falls, Maine and bored out of his mind.

"If you don't want to be here, JJ...then you can leave. I'll be fine," Nora told him. He rolled his eyes.

"It's just...some of these guys are in this for the cash grab now. I mean...what new or real information have they come up with in the last seven years?" JJ questioned. She sighed.

"You don't get it...there are no definitive answers, because the government is hiding the whole thing. But you've heard the stories. Weird things happen in these woods," Nora said.

"Maybe that's because this convention brings the weirdos out of the woodwork," he quipped.

"So...are you still on the fairy tale kick or do you think it's aliens?" he asked.

"If you're going to make fun of me, you can take a hike," she answered. He sighed.

"I'm sorry...but you have to admit, most of the theories are pretty insane," he mentioned.

"You saw the videos...how do you explain all that?" she asked.

"I don't know...but fairy tales? Really?" he questioned.

"Whatever...you just wait until I prove you wrong," she insisted, as they arrived at the convention tables, where they were conducting a live podcast.

"And if you're just joining us, I have made contact with a source that has a possible lead on the man known as David Nolan. Now, if you remember, David Nolan is the detective from Seattle that curiously had his wife and son stolen from him by a man, who was known on the dark web as the Collector. His wife had amnesia and was diagnosed by a shady doctor with dissociative identity disorder. The woman had an alter and yes, you're remembering correctly. Her alter was none other than Snow White," the podcaster said.

"This couple was splashed all over the tabloids for weeks and their romance became an obsession; an obsession that the Internet still hasn't let go of. Especially when this same couple showed up on that fateful day in Seattle and things happened around them that can only be described as magic, no matter what the official government story tries to tell us," he continued.

"But then they disappeared, without a trace, like they never existed. But if the rumors on the dark web are anything to go by...then they are somewhere hidden in these very back woods of Maine, possibly in a hidden realm or maybe even beneath the surface of the earth if you believe the hallow earth theorists," he added.

"But no matter how much they try to dissuade us from seeking the truth, we will not stop until we expose what really happened that day and just who these mysterious people really are. Join us again tomorrow, as we make our annual hike into the woods of Maine in search for answers," he said, concluding his podcast. JJ rolled his eyes, as Nora got in line to get an autograph from the man who had made a living with podcasts and books on this subject.

"I'm gonna go check us in at the Inn and if it's booked again like last year, we're leaving, cause I'm not sleeping in a tent again," he complained, as he started off that way when screams from the diner nearby attracted all the attention. And if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would have never believed it.

The diner exploded in flames, with any of the poor people inside, obviously perishing instantly. He stood, fear stricken, as two flaming figures strode toward them.

"You…" one said, as the flames faded mostly.

"You will drive us to a place called Boston," Arthur demanded.

"Uh...here, take the car," JJ said, but Gawain growled and grabbed Nora by the arm.

"The King has requested that you drive us and you will do so unless you'd like me to melt the skin off her body," Gawain threatened. JJ nodded, as he led them back to his car. Suddenly, all the conspiracy had just gotten very real…

~*~

David stood behind his boss with a few other agents, as she made a statement to the press and delivered the profile, stating that they believed their perpetrator to be a highly educated professor with access to multiple Universities campuses.

"Major Donovan...are you really accusing someone in the educational community of perpetuating these crimes?" one reporter questioned.

"As uncomfortable as it is...I'm afraid so. The chemical compound alone suggests that this person is at least a scientist and someone highly intelligent. But the location of the crimes is very suspicious as well. Only an educator would have the kind of access that to the multiple institutions that these crimes occurred," Patricia answered.

"They're cannot be that many that fit your profile. Does that mean you've narrowed the suspect pool?" another asked.

"Yes...we are getting close and we are doing everything in our power to make sure the last victim is this person's final victim," the Major answered, as she stepped away, effectively ending the impromptu press conference. But one person, without a press pass, slipped through and ran up behind them.

"Agent Nolan is it?" he asked. David sighed and turned to him. He hated reporters.

"Make it quick...I really do want to catch this guy," he said impatiently.

"No one else has seemed to put it together, but rumors in the alternative community have suggested that you are the same person as the Detective Nolan from strange events that occurred seven years ago in Seattle," the man interjected.

"I'm sorry...what media outlet are you with?" Patricia asked.

"I'm an independent researcher for the people, Major," he answered.

"Ah...so one of those nuts on the Internet. Got it...if you'll excuse us, we have work to do," she said, dismissing him.

"I've done some digging. Your wife, Margaret Nolan, she's a teacher, right?" he called and David stopped in his tracks.

"Look...I don't know who you are, but I've never lived in Seattle and I'll let you go right now if you go without another word. But you mention my wife again or even think about going near her...then we'll arrest you for harassment," David warned. The man smirked.

"Fine...but pictures don't lie, detective. Oh, I'm sorry...it's agent now," he said, as he tossed the newspaper to him and walked away. David sighed and followed his boss back into their workplace. He was about to look at the paper out of curiosity, but tossed it on his desk when Agent Harding called them into the conference room.

"Hey...I think I might have narrowed it down now," she said, as they both went into the conference room.

"Really?" David asked.

"Well...we caught a break. Our perp has been careful up until now, but after the last student death at Boston University, they put even more cameras," Danielle replied.

"Wait...are you saying you got something on camera?" David asked.

"Well, nothing incriminating, but I went through and cross referenced everyone that was signed into the lab at Boston University on both nights of each murder that occurred there," she replied.

"Nice work...how many are we down to?" Patricia asked.

"Eight...so still not great, but way better than the thirty-two suspects we had it down to this morning," she replied.

"Okay...well eight is workable. Let's see them one by one," Patricia said, as she nodded to Trevor and he put the slide show up on the screen. And David's heart nearly stopped, as he recognized the photo of the sixth man on the screen. As the slide flipped to the seventh one, he called out.

"Hold it...go back!" he said, as he stared a the image of Dr. Ian Jenkins.

"David? Do you know him?" Patricia asked, as his mind was racing a mile a minute and he remembered what, at the time, had been a fairly innocuous conversation with his wife.

~*~

They had taken the kids out for pizza after the game so Bobby could eat with his teammates. They were so glad he finally seemed to be fitting in. Middle school had been an awkward time for him and he had always said he felt different than other kids and had trouble relating to them, but he was never really sure why. Snow and David were fond of telling him that it was because he was special, but they weren't sure that helped much. At his age, being special was definitely not easy. It wasn't easy to be normal at his age, so being extraordinary or special came with its own struggles. But his teammates really seemed to take to him. They both just hoped there was more to it than the fact that Bobby was winning games for them.

After pizza, they had stopped for ice cream and she was currently sharing a pint with her husband on the couch. In his lap no less, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for them.

"You're a little quiet...lost in the chocolate goodness?" he teased, as she looked him.

"No...it's kind of silly I think," she replied.

"Your feelings are never silly to me," he reminded, as she put her spoon in the ice cream and set it aside on the table.

"Well...my new boss, Dr. Jenkins...he's nice and all and I kind of feel bad for him. He's socially awkward...but I kind of got a weird vibe from him today," she said.

"Did he come onto you?" he asked.

"No...why would you think that?" she asked. He rolled his eyes.

"Because you're beautiful and I saw the way he was looking at you. I may have acted like I was absorbed in the game, but trust me, I always notice everything when it comes to you, especially when other men look at you," he replied. She caressed his face.

"You're the only man I want," she reminded him.

"I know...that's why I don't gouge their eyes out when I see one looking at you. That's serious self control...you should be proud," he joked, as she nudged him playfully.

"But seriously...was he making you uncomfortable?" he asked.

"No...not really. He just was weirdly insistent that I should enroll in his night classes and get my doctorate," she replied.

"Do you want to get your doctorate?" he asked.

"No...I'm happy where I am. Besides, spending my evenings away from you and the kids would only make me miserable," she replied.

"Then he should accept that and if he gets out of hand, I want you to let me know right away," he stressed. She shrugged.

"I don't think it's like that. I think he's just lonely and is trying to be a friend," she said.

"Maybe...but remember, I'm a cop. I see this kind of thing go bad way too often and it scares the hell out of me that you could be on the receiving end of someone that doesn't like to hear the word no," he lamented. But she stroked his face.

"I'll be fine. Like I said, he's just awkward and hasn't crossed any lines. I'll be friendly, but keep a professional distance," she promised, as she kissed him.

"Good...because I don't think I have to tell you what it would do to me if something happened to you," he said, as she caressed his face again.

"I know...it's the same for me when it comes to you. I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he replied, as their lips met again.

~*~

"David?" Patricia questioned, as she noticed his fear stricken face.

"I know him…" he uttered.

"How?" Danielle asked.

"He works at the same school Margaret and Bobby are at. He's the head of the science department," David answered, as Trevor pulled up his information.

"Dr. Ian Jenkins, five PHD's and moved to the United States from Great Britain a few years ago," Danielle said, as dread knotted in David's stomach and he ran out of the room and to the stairwell.

"Pull up everything you can get on him, from his time here and his home country. I have a feeling this is our guy," she said, as she followed him.

~*~

Mount Olympus practically shook apart to rubble, as Seth unleashed his rage at what was going on in the United Realms at the moment. There was a heavy ice storm plaguing several Kingdoms and a lightning storm over Storybrooke. If that wasn't enough, there were also several cyclones raging in the waterways, creating violent hurricane-like winds. He had told Mephisto not to bother returning unless it was with the Charmings in chains.

"I'm going to torture you all...and burn everything and everyone you love!" Seth raged, as his eyes bled yellow with evil and he glared down at the United Realms. In his mighty rage, he blasted Snow and David's castle in Misthaven and then Winter and Charming's near the toll bridge, torching them both. He knew they were likely empty by now, as these storms were clearly a distraction. He glared at the reserve and then the mysterious area near Bald Mountain. Even in all his immense power, he was unable to get through the shields protecting these areas and it made him livid in a way he had never been.

"I must find a way through…" he growled, as he disappeared and reappeared in Nephilim. He needed to consult Madam Mim's oldest spell books. There had to be something in one of them to combat the power of these truest loves. He had little faith in Mephisto's new charges and thus, he knew it was very likely that Winter and Charming's good halves would soon return. Which meant he needed a way to obliterate them and their entire bloodline…

~*~

Thanks to their abundance of beans, multiple portals opened with people pouring through them. Due to the nature of the barrier, created by the combined light and dark powers of Winter, Charming, and Rumpelstiltskin, it made the barrier around the Bald Mountain area nearly impenetrable, even by the mighty Seth. Another perk of the magic woven into the barrier was that anyone that walked into the refuge of the mountain through a portal had their real memories returned. Emotions were running high, especially, as many people were reunited with loved ones thought to be dead, including Abigail with her father.

"That should be mostly everyone that we could get," Leo said, as he arrived with Frankie and Joe, having retrieved them and most of the people of Storybrooke.

"Yes and it shouldn't be too crowded, thanks to the magical extensions," Regina agreed, as they arrived back from the Maritime Kingdom.

"Where is Eva...this is taking too long…" Charming said, as he paced a hole in the floor. Thankfully, a portal opened, as she and Paul arrived back from the Land Without Color and its people.

"I'm here Daddy…" she called, as he hugged her tightly and cradled her head.

"I'm okay, Daddy," she assured and then pulled back.

"I hope everyone is mostly here though. He destroyed your castle in Misthaven and the one by the Toll Bridge," she reported.

"We're safe...that's what matters most, sweetie," Winter said. He nodded.

"She's right, angel...we can rebuild when all this is over," Charming assured.

"So what now? As usual, you've built a resistance and led us all here. But Seth is worse than I ever was...so you two better have a plan," the Evil Queen asked said, as she stood beside her other half.

"Emma will bring our other halves back, along with Summer and Bobby. Until then...we ready ourselves for the battle to come," Winter declared.

"She's right...because this one is going to make the Final Battle look like a casual afternoon sparring match," Charming said.

"We've lost Fandral too...that was not a blow we needed," Elsa mentioned.

"We must hope that his friends got our message and were able to rescue them," Hermes implored and they could only hope she was right.

"Let's hope the barrier holds long enough, because Seth will do everything he can to get through that barrier," Winter whispered to her husband and he pulled her into his arms.

"It will...and Emma will be back soon," he promised.

~*~

"...and that was how we ended up in the All World River," Fandral said, as he got choked up again.

"And I almost lost the best thing that ever happened to me," he said, as he clutched her hand and Rose rested her head on his shoulder. She was cuddled against him in a large chair, as they had opted to share and no one bothered to tell them they could have their own. At the moment, he could bare to let her out of his sight or even let go of her. He was too afraid that she would disappear.

"By Odin's beard...there is really a serum that can separate a person from their good half and their bad half?" Lady Sif asked. They nodded.

"There is...it was originally created by Dr. Jekyll to separate himself from Hyde," Fandral asked.

"They are the ones in the story when you were cursed to be bear? This Jekyll is the one that tried to keep you apart, yes?" Thor asked. Rose nodded.

"He did...he separated from Hyde, but it turned out that he was the real monster all along and Hyde, though he has done some terrible things, he retained a goodness in him. He helped reunite us...despite his feelings for me," she explained.

"And your friends? Their dark halves...they don't seem all that dark," Valkyrie observed.

"They're not...they have done dark things in the name of revenge, but ultimately, like Snow and David, they still love each other and their family. They're just a little more willing to go to dark places to protect them, whereas Snow and David do so from a place of light," Fandral tried to explain.

"And your friends good halves are cursed again?" Sif asked, trying to understand.

"Yes...to protect their youngest. Seth fears his powers, which I have feeling he hasn't even begun to come into. But their eldest has gone after them in hopes of waking them up and bringing them home. The final battle with Seth draws near," Fandral answered.

"And I thought our lives were insane," Valkyrie quipped. Fandral sighed.

"We must get back to the children…" Fandral said.

"They are safe...I know our friends would make sure of that," Rose assured him. He nodded.

"If you are sure of that, perhaps it is wise to remain here until the right time to make your entrance," Thor suggested.

"That is a good idea. We just have no idea how to know when the right time will be," Fandral said. Thor exchanged a glance with Valkyrie and she rolled her eyes.

"If anyone has any kind of tech that can see across realms, it's probably one of them. It's one hell of a long shot though," she mentioned.

"We should try...I'll make the call," he said, as he stood up.

"So...he doesn't look so good. I feel badly for asking for his help," Fandral said, but Sif shook her head.

"No...this is exactly what he needs. It's been two years here too since the snap and he's been drowning himself in his own sorrows," Sif replied.

"She's right...you seem to be someone that's able to do what none of us can and that's pull him out of his misery. He feels he has no purpose now so do not feel bad about giving him one," Valkyrie admonished. Fandral nodded and Rose kissed his cheek.

"So...who is he calling?" Fandral asked curiously.

"Someone with a really big brain," Valkyrie answered.

~*~

Margaret arrived back in her classroom and started gathering her things to go home for the day. As she put things away in her bag, she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up and jumped when she saw Dr. Jenkins standing in the doorway.

"Oh...Dr. Jenkins, you startled me," she said, with a quiver in her voice. The way he was looking at her made her very uncomfortable and warning bells started going off in her head.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry...I don't mean to. I just wanted to thank you again for all your help. Today was quite successful, thanks to you. We made quite a team," he mentioned. She swallowed thickly and grabbed her bag in order to make a quick escape. Unfortunately, the contents of the bag went spilling to the floor instead.

"Oh dear...let me help you," he said, as he started picking her things up.

"That's okay…" she said, as she quickly stuffed things into her bag and stood up.

"I...I need to go. Bobby's waiting for me," she said, as she walked past him and fear seized her when he grabbed her arm.

"Margaret please...I think it is important that we talk," he said.

"Doctor…" she started to say.

"Margaret...please hear me out," he pleaded. He wasn't giving her much choice though, as he did not let go of her arm.

"I've never met anyone like you. Brilliant and beautiful, with a kind soul. I don't connect with many people, but I felt an instant connection with you. Can you not see that we belong together?" he asked.

"Doctor...I'm married. Happily married and very much in love with my husband. Please...let go," she pleaded, as she was now on the verge of tears. But that only made him squeeze her arm harder.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that...and you'll soon see that you belong with me," Jenkins he said in a matter of fact tone. She tore away from him, but he grabbed her and pulled her back.

"Help me!" she cried out, as he put a hand over her mouth. She bit his hand and he cried out. He backhanded her across the face and she went spilling to the floor.

"This is not how I wanted to do this, Margaret...but you leave me no choice," he said, as he pinned her on her back. She cried and screamed, but the school was mostly empty by now and those that were still around were in the gym.

"Shh...stop your struggle," he chided, as he put the scarf she was wearing around her neck between her teeth, as tears streamed down her face. She couldn't believe his strength. He didn't look all that strong, but his grip was like a vice and her struggling didn't faze him at all. She winced away in disgust, as he caressed her face.

"The moment I met you...I knew I had to have you," he leered and she tried kneeing him, but he held her knees down.

"You are so fiery...it's exhilarating, but this will help calm you," he said, as he pulled a syringe out of his jacket pocket.

"A simple muscle relaxer. You'll remain awake...but unable to fight me," he said. Her eyes widened and she continued to struggle. Just as she thought the worst was about to happen, she saw the doctor be literally peeled off her and thrown...across the room. Her son stood there, looking at his arm in surprise, wondering how he had even done such a thing, but decided that was a question for later, as he helped his mother up and into a chair.

"Mom…" he said, as he helped her pull the scarf away from her mouth and her arms flew around him.

"It's okay Mom…" he soothed, as he looked back at the doctor and put his hand up.

"You stay away...you stay the hell away from my mom!" Bobby hissed, as Jenkins started toward them.

"You won't stand in my way once I make a guinea pig out of you for my new drug. You're strong...maybe you'll be the first one to survive it. Either way, you won't be able to stop me from taking what I want," he said.

"Drug?" Margaret asked, as she saw the syringe with a red liquid in it.

"You're...you're the one my husband is looking for. You...you killed all those students and homeless people," she realized. He smirked at her with admiration.

"As usual...you are stunningly brilliant, Margaret. Such is wasted on your muscle brained husband. He's supposed to be an FBI agent and you figured it out before he did," he said smugly.

"Don't be so sure...I know my dad and he's probably already onto you," Bobby warned, as he guarded his mother.

"You don't want to tangle with me, brat. I don't mean to harm your lovely mother...I just need to show her why she belongs with me," he said.

"You're really are psycho if you think I'll let you touch her or that she belongs with you, because trust me, she belongs with my dad," Bobby growled.

"We shall see…" Jenkins said, as he kept walking toward them, causing Bobby to charge the man and they went tumbling to the floor.

"BOBBY!" Margaret cried, as she looked for something to use as a weapon.

Jenkins managed to get his hands around the boy's throat and started choking him, until he felt the incredible pain of being beamed with a chair across his back and rolled off, howling in pain. Margaret quickly helped her son up and looked him over.

"How dare you try to hurt my son!" she growled, all traces of her usual kindness gone.

"You are making this very difficult on yourself, Margaret. I do not want to hurt your boy...but I will if you do not come with me right now," Jenkins said.

"Go to hell," Bobby growled.

"I'm already there, young one...I'm already there without her to complete me," he claimed.

"You are sick…" Margaret spat, as he got up and she had no idea how. She had hit him with a metal chair, after all. He started toward them and Bobby punched him, before taking his mother's hand and leading her to the door. They were startled when they opened it and found a blonde woman there with a few other people. The woman smiled at them, like she was relieved, and put her hands up.

"It's okay...I'm a cop," she assured and they sighed in relief. But Margaret cried out, as Jekyll grabbed her and put his arm around her neck in a headlock, before dragging her back.

"Don't move...or I strangle her," he warned, as she gasped for air.

"Stop it!" Bobby cried.

"If I cannot have you, sweet Margaret...then no one will…" he hissed in her ear, before sniffing her hair.

"Let us leave...and she'll keep breathing," he said.

"You have four guns aimed at you four-eyed psycho so you're not going anywhere with her," Emma growled. But he smirked and pulled her tightly against him.

"But none of you will risk firing on me as long as I have her...she too precious…" he hissed, as he looked at her with a lustful stare. Suddenly, one of the windows in the classroom shattered in surprise and Jenkind looked that way, only in time to see a fist connect with his face, busting his glasses. He stumbled to the floor and Margaret sighed in relief, as her husband caught her before she went crashing to the floor with him.

"Oh David…" she cried, as her arms flew around his neck.

"It's okay now, my darling…" he promised, as he held her tightly. Emma smiled at them. Thankfully, some things never changed and that one thing was the love between her parents. It still shined as passionately and brightly like the brightest star in the sky.

"Hands up where we can see them," Nick warned, as he leveled his gun at the doctor. Jenkins smirked and jabbed the needle into Bobby's leg.

"Oww…" he cried out, as time seemed to stop.

"What...what did you just do?" David cried. The evil doctor looked at him with a smug smile.

"You know what I have done, agent Nolan...the same that I have done to all my other test subjects. I doubt the boy has but a few moments to live," Jenkins said.

"You son of a bitch!" Emma cried, as she felt tears fill her eyes and she tackled him to the ground, before cuffing him.

"Bobby…" Margaret said, as their son began to convulse.

"Oh God...no...no...no...I can't lose our baby," she cried, as she fell apart and they held their son.

"This is agent Martinez, I need an ambulance at North Star High School immediately. We have a student that was injected unwillingly with a dangerous substance!" Angela said into her phone. Bobby convulsed, as his parents held him and cried over him. Suddenly, the ground beneath them all began to shake.

"An earthquake? In Massachusetts?" Nick asked in confusion. But Emma and Killian exchanged a glance.

"Yeah...not an earthquake," she told them and their eyes widened.

"Are you saying the kid is doing this?" Nick hissed.

"That drug...it might have just awakened his powers," Emma said.

"But there is no magic," Killian reminded her.

"Yes there is...my parents have half the chalice hidden in their rings," she reminded him.

"Then...he might survive this," Killian said hopefully.

"It's possible…" she said, as the rest of the windows shattered and wind whipped around all of them.

"If my brother doesn't kill us all with the elements first," Emma said, as the paramedics arrived and were unsure as to what they were seeing. Her brother's magic was fighting the drug and he had a better chance than anyone else of surviving. But if he destroyed everything around him in the process, it was going to be something they would have a hard time explaining…

~*~

Summer arrived home that evening and was surprised to find the house seemingly empty.

"Mom?" she called.

"Hmm...they must still be at school," she muttered, as she dropped her bag in her room and went to the kitchen for a bottle of water. It was strange that her mother hadn't texted her that they would be this late though and she opened the fridge to grab an apple. She heard the doorbell ring at that time and went to answer it, finding a package on the doorstep. It was a little strange since there didn't seem to be a delivery truck. She shrugged and took it inside, surprised that it was addressed to her and her brother.

"That's weird...we didn't order anything," she said, but shrugged again and opened the box. Inside was a large, leather bound book with the title emblazoned in gold.

"Once Upon a Time," she read.

"Fairy tales?" she wondered, as she opened the book and was suddenly seized with a river of memories running through her.

"Oh my God!" she cried out, as it all came back to her. She put the book down and dug through the box, extracting the Dark One dagger from it.

"I need to find Mom, Dad, and Bobby," she uttered, as she grabbed her bag. She stuffed the book into it, as she heard a noise.

"Hello?" she called, but received silence. A chill ran down her spine and she clutched the dagger.

"Daddy?" she called, but somehow knew he wasn't there.

"Afraid not, young one…" a voice said and she turned to find a man that she recognized as King Arthur.

"My my...you have grown up. You were so very small the last time I saw you," Arthur said.

"As fair as your mother," Gawain said.

"You stay away from me, jerk face," she growled.

"And with the same mouth too," he quipped.

"Believe it or not...I do not want to hurt you, little one. Just give me the dagger and we will be on our way," Arthur said, as she clutched it and backed away. She ran from them, as their arms became alive with fiery chains. She screamed, as Gawain sliced through the kitchen table and she ran out the backdoor, before colliding with a young man she didn't recognize.

"I'm sorry…" he said, as he helped her up.

"Who are you?" she asked, as Arthur and Gawain tore their way through the house.

"Uh...later," he said, as he led her back to his car. Just a few moments ago, he had the opportunity to run away, but something had told him not to and now he knew why.

~*~

A Few Moments Ago

"You're welcome crazies!" he called, as the two weirdos that had forced them to drive them four hours to Boston got out in front of a nice house in a very nice suburb.

"JJ...what are you waiting for? Floor it!" Nora urged. He snorted.

"So everything you've been going on about for seven years is probably true and now you want to run?" he asked.

"Away from those psychos...yeah!" she answered. But he heard a scream from inside the house and got out of the car.

"Someone is in trouble...stay here!" he told her, as he ran around the back of the house. He may have been dragged into this conspiracy stuff unwillingly, but now that the danger was real and people needed help, that's where he shined. He wanted to help real people from real danger and he wasn't about to run away from that, even if what the danger he was facing seemed wildly unreal.

JJ took the girl's hand and they ran to his car. Nora was still in the back seat and he opened the passenger door for her.

"Get in," he said, but Summer hesitated and looked back at the house.

"I need to find my parents," she replied.

"Fine, but it's not safe here and I assure you that we're better than those freaks," he said. She nodded and got in. He ran to the driver's side.

"Where to?" he asked.

"North Star High...I'll tell you how to get there, just go," she urged, as he peeled away, leaving Arthur and Gawain behind…

~*~

Training was in full swing at the refuge, as Leo sparred his Uncle James and his wife was firing icicles at Regina, who was using fire to extinguish them, just as Eva ran into the training room.

"Honey...what is it?" Winter asked.

"Something is happening in Boston...it's all over the news," she said, as Rumple magicked a television into the room and they turned to one of the national news stations.

"And if you're just joining us, Boston is experiencing a strange series of weather events. No one is sure how or why, but the source of the earthquake appears to be a local school, North Star High," the reporter droned on.

"North Star High?" Leo asked.

"We looked it up. Your Mom teaches there under the name Margaret Nolan and Bobby is a freshman there," Paul replied.

"But...that doesn't make any sense. Why would Bobby unleash his powers?" Elsa asked.

"And how even? They're in the Land Without Magic," Leo added.

"Mom and Dad have their half of chalice, even if they don't know it," she reminded him.

"Which means something must be happening and Bobby might not be able to control his powers. It's the only way he'd ever use them out there," Regina surmised.

"Exactly...but this could be the catalyst we need. Emma should be there by now and she'll bring them home," Rumple stated.

"Except that we know Seth sent Arthur and Gawain after them and if people see those two and what they can do? There is no putting this one back in the bottle," James said. Aphrodite nodded.

"Snow and David will know what to do...we have to have faith. I'm assuming that package has been delivered?" the Goddess asked the Dark One.

"Young Summer should have it by now and with any luck she's awake so it's only a matter of time until the rest are," he replied.

"Let's hope you're right, because Seth has access to every magic book in Rose Red's library and if he finds a way through our barrier prematurely...then it's over," the Evil Queen warned.

"Then I guess it's time for you to take a page from the Charming manual as I have, Your Majesty. We must have hope," he said. She looked at him in disgust.

"Hope...that damn word. It always comes down to hope and that insipid princess and her idiot husband," the Queen complained, receiving many glares, most notably from the twins.

"I'm sorry...I love you both, but your mother and father are a menace," she complained.

"No...they're heroes and they'll be back soon to help us fight. With the United Realms joining together, all our armies, all our magic...Seth will go down and we need to be ready," Regina said. Robin smiled at her and put his arms around her.

"And we will be, because we're all heroes, especially you now," he said, as she smiled back at him.

"And if we can't put this back in the bottle? Even if we do defeat Seth...what if the whole world becomes aware of our existence?" Leo asked.

"Yeah...because something tells me that Seth might decide he wants to rule more than just the United Realms," Eva added.

"I'm afraid you're right...Seth may decide he wants to conquer the world. But we'll save it and then we may have to face an entirely new world where we are no longer hidden," Aphrodite told them.

"As hard as it may be, it can be done. There was a time on the Earth in the realm where Fandral comes from that believed magic, Gods, and heroes were mere fantasy, very recently, in fact. But that is no longer the case there and may no longer be the case here much longer. But I am certain of one thing," Hermes said.

"What's that?" Leo asked. She and Aphrodite smiled.

"Your parents will lead us through it all. Your family is a beacon of hope to everyone in the United Realms and I know that the same will be true for the whole world if such comes to be," Aphrodite declared. The twins exchanged a glance and nodded. They weren't sure they liked the idea of their family being so exposed to the world, but they knew she was right. Their parents would somehow lead them through it all with their love shining like the brightest guiding star in the sky...

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z 134

I’m just imagining Toriyama having this same discussion with his editor. 

On the flip side of things, Dr. Gero is struggling to convince 17 and 18 that the Z-Fighters are a clear and present danger.    The problem is that they were never exactly loyal to Gero in the first place, which was why Gero was so reluctant to activate them.   But Vegeta destroyed Android 19 with ease, and Piccolo damaged him pretty badly, and Future Trunks is a complete mystery to him.    Also, Gero worked Krillin over pretty well on the way here, and he’s still on his feet.    Like it or not, he needs 17 and 18 now.   

Thing is, 17 and 18 don’t really need Dr. Gero.    At this point in the story, all we really know about these two is that they never fell into line with Gero’s authority.   My personal assumption is that they resent him for turning them into cyborgs against their will.   I feel like there’s lore about how they don’t remember their former lives as humans, so maybe I’m wrong.   

The point is that they only really ever got along with him because he had devices like the remote that could shut them down.   17 seemed pretty angry about that in the previous episode when he destroyed it.   They may have other beefs with Gero, but they seemed especially frustrated with the way he could just “put them to sleep” at any time, for any duration.    Now they’re finally awake again and it turns out Gero built a nineteenth androids in the meantime, and then he had 19 rebuild Gero in the twentieth android.   To Gero, that’s old news, but to 17 and 18, it only goes to show how long they’ve been out of commission.

18 wonders aloud why Gero based himself and 19 off the “older” energy absorption model, as opposed to the “eternal energy” model she and 17 are based upon.   I think she hit the nail on the head.   Gero suspected that 17 and 18 were unruly because they were too powerful.  I don’t know if he’s right, but he wouldn’t have trusted either of them to rebuild him into an android body, so he built 19 in a way that he could trust.   I’m not sure why he didn’t have himself made into an “eternal-energy” type, though.  Was he afraid he’d betray himself?    Did he think it would drive him insane?  He’s already an evil mad scientist, how much worse could it get?

So 17 and 18 tell Gero that they’ll deal with the Z-Fighters later, when they get around to it.   Without his controller, he doesn’t have much leverage over them.   Really, even if he did have the controller, he’s in no position to use it.   17 and 18 are the only thing keeping him alive right now.    If he shut them down, he’d be the first one to die.   

Instead, 18 wanders around the lab to see what’s changed since she was last active, and notices another chamber containing an Android 16.   She’s curious about this one, since he’s an unlimited energy model like herself, only he seems to be much larger, indicating a different design.   But Gero gets upset at the very idea of turning him on.    Back at the door, Trunks is just horrified to learn of a fifth android.   

While they bicker, the Z-Fighters just sort of stand at the door and watch.    Krillin suggests they retreat while they’re distracted, and Vegeta plans to stick around no matter what.   Inside, Dr. Gero tries to pull 18 away from 16, which is pretty dumb, since she’s much stronger than he is.   I mean, this is why he reactivated her in the first place, after all.   

It’s pretty fun watching Gero struggle like this.  He was so confident in his plans and backup plans when he first showed up, but now he’s trapped between Vegeta and his own misfit creations.   The funny thing is that 17 and 18 will be kicking the crap out of the Z-Fighters very soon, but not nearly soon enough to do him any good.    Right now all they want to do is screw with his stuff.

18 points out that all the Androids up to #15 aren’t present in the lab.    I suppose this is why Movie 7 introduces 13, 14, and 15 in the sub basement.   18′s point here is that it doesn’t make sense that Gero considers 16 defective.  If he were truly as dangerous as he claims, then why keep him in tact at all?    Really, you could ask the same question about 17 and 18.   They represent the high water mark of Gero’s android research, and maybe he thought he could work the bugs out of their systems, but they’re clearly not going to help him, so wouldn’t he have been better off dismantling them?

Gero starts flipping his shit, warning them that turning on 16 could get them all killed.   17 scans 16 and concludes that 17 has a higher power level, so clearly 16 isn’t a threat.    Gero keeps arguing with them,  and threatens to turn them off, but he doesn’t have the remote, so he can’t.    All he can do is threaten to build a new one, like anyone’s gonna stand back and let him do that.

Finally, as 18 pushes the button on 16′s chamber, 17 attacks Gero and kills him.   This was the big moment Trunks spoke of when he first warned Goku about the android threat.  He said they killed Gero when they were activated, and now it’s finally come to pass.    It’s not clear how things played out in Trunks’ timeline, but in this one it just took a little longer to play out.  

Krillin is shocked that 17 would kill his own creator like that, but Vegeta thinks it’s very similar to the Saiyan way of doing things, which makes the Earthlings the oddballs in the universe.

Then Trunks blows up the whole mountain because he’s been quietly freaking out over all these androids while this scene has been playing out.    I’m pretty sure he didn’t expect that blast to kill 17 and 18, since he never managed anything like that in his own time, but he probably hoped to destroy 16 at least, and any other secret weapons Gero left lying around.

But yeah, no, they’re all fine.   Vegeta scolds Trunks for wasting his energy on a pointless attack like that.    18 goes back to turning on 16 like nothing happened.

So they let him out of the chamber and he’s a big ol’ feller.   17 and 18 ask him why Dr. Gero was so uptight about activating him, but he has nothing to say.

But when they ask him if he was also created to kill Goku, he says yes, and I guess that’s enough for them to bond over.  18 says it was rude for Gero to deem 16 a failure, since he seems to be on board with the whole “kill Goku” agenda.  

As for 17 and 18, they’re not particularly inclined to folllow Gero’s instructions, but they need something to get them started, so hunting down Goku is as good an objective as any.    So they fly off together to plan their next move.  

So the reactions to this development make a pretty good lesson on characterization.   The Z-Fighters are all on the same side, but they’re not all of one mind.    So when something like this happens, it’s a good chance to show them all reacting differently.   Tien just wonders where they’re going.     He’s the practical sort.   He didn’t expect them to leave, so he wants to know why they left and what they’re up to.  

Piccolo’s more of a strategist.   He’s mostly interested in what the Androids aren’t doing, which is rampaging through the nearest populated area, which was what Trunks says they do in his timeline.    For him, the main issue is that the Androids aren’t behaving the way he anticipated, which makes it harder to plan around.   

Krillin thinks with his heart, which often leads him to make logical leaps, but he’s pretty sharp at the same time, so a lot of times he gets the right answer.    This is has been about Goku from the start, so it makes sense that they’d go after him, especially if they’re not interested in attacking the other Z-Fighters or destroying cities.    It’s the only thing left on their bucket list.

And Vegeta’s an egomaniac.    As far as he’s concerned, this is all about him, and he’s offended that he stood here, ready to fight the Androids, and they didn’t even notice.   

And Trunks is just way in over his head.   Right now all he wants to do is wait for Goku to recover from the heart virus so they can regroup and figure this mess out.  He definitely does not want to go off picking fights with 17 and 18, because they were too much for the Z-Fighters in his own history.   In this timeline, they now have backup, and he has no idea what 16 is capable of.    But Vegeta doesn’t care, and he chases after the androids anyway.

The problem here is that Trunks doesn’t understand Vegeta’s attitude toward Goku.    He doesn’t see him as a valuable ally, he hates him worse than he hates the androids, and as far as he’s concerned, he wants to kill the androids first, then finish off Goku later.   So he punches Trunks and leaves.

Then Krilin reminds Trunks that if the Androids really are headed for Goku’s house, they’ll run across Gohan and Bulma along the way, since they sent them there a couple of episodes back.  So now Trunks realizes they have to intercept the Androids, or else he might lose both his parents.

Speaking of Bulma, Gohan was flying her, Baby Trunks, and Yajirobe back to Goku’s house, but in this episode they’ve stopped somewhere and built a campfire for some reason.     This is one of those weird things in the anime where some subplots seem to take much longer than the main story.    I’m pretty sure it’s only been an hour or so since the attack on Amenbo Island.  I guess it could have been longer than that, since Gero had to travel all the way from South City to North City, but he’s pretty fast.    Anyway, the idea that Gohan’s group had to land and rest long enough to build a fire seems kind of weird, like this whole saga has spanned most of the day.   

Anyway, it’s been a while since we’ve had a small boy in this series, so Toei’s gonna return to its roots and show baby weiners.  

At Goku’s house, Chi-Chi’s coping with the crisis by cooking.    She figures Goku will be hungry when he recovers from the virus, and she does this cute impression of him while she thinks about it.    I love this, because this is exactly what they did in the dub version.   Honestly, the subs and dubs match up a lot more often than they don’t.   I won’t deny that the dub got a lot of stuff very different, and some of it flat out wrong, but one of the reasons I wanted to watch the whole thing in Japanese was to see just how different it was, and it’s not that far off.  

I mean, this is a visual medium, first and foremost.    I see Team Four Star talking about the directions they want to take the characters in with the DBZ Abridged series, but the fact of the matter is that they’re pretty much confined to the footage they have to work with.   Funimation had the same constraints in the early 2000′s when they dubbed this part of the story.    The way I heard it, they didn’t have access to the original Japanese scripts, so they had to write the English version based on Spanish dubs instead.    And sometimes they would ad lib things to punch up the story or fill long pauses without any dialogue.    You can debate whether that’s a good idea or not, but the bottom line is that there’s only so many ways you can spin a scene like this.   Chi-Chi’s clearly not cooking all that food for Yamcha.    I’m sure he can have some, but that’s not what’s on her mind right now, and any dub that ignores her concern over Goku is missing the point.   

All TFS can do is try to make it funny.   I’m pretty sure they didn’t use this scene, probably because there wasn’t a good way to make it funny, but they’d still have to acknowledge the fundamental premise that Chi-Chi is cooking food because she’s worried about Goku.    You could go in an absurdist direction and have her say “hehehe im putting p00p in this food because i h8 my husband lol XD”   But that’s pretty cheap.   Any idiot could tell that joke.  

See?   

Yamcha reminds Chi-Chi that the virus might be contagious, so he tells her that they should both take some of the medicine.    I feel like that should have already happened by now, but whatever.   I seem to recall in the dub, Chi-Chi tells him he has to buy his own bottle, which is kind of petty.    Like I said, the dub does take some liberties, but it mostly sticks to the story.   

Meanwhile, Vegeta’s butthurt that everyone trusts Goku to solve this crisis, even though he’s at least as strong as Goku now.     He seems to be missing the point that he can Goku probably need to work together on this problem, but whatever.

Elsewhere, 17 leads his group to a highway, because he wants to steal a car and drive it to Goku’s house, as opposed to flying straight there.   While they wait for a car to drive by, they ask 16 if he was based on a human, like they were, and he explains that Dr. Gero constructed him from scratch.

And this is where the whole Android/Cyborg/Artificial Human thing sot of falls apart.   #20 is clearly a cyborg, because you can see Dr. Gero’s brain in the dome on op of his head.    17 and 18 are cyborgs, because, as they say, they were built from human beings.    A lot of fans just refer to them as cyborgs for that reason, but 16 is not a cyborg, because he’s purely artificial.   Since he’s a robot that closely resembles a human, that makes him an android, literally, by definition.   

I’m less sure about #19.   The dome on his head looked like it had a bunch of computer parts in it, but that could just mean Gero transferred his brainpatterns to a CPU, or he may have cut out 19′s cerebrum entirely, killing the human he was based upon, but still using organic parts in his final design.   16 might be the same deal, really.    He looks and acts a lot like the Terminator robot, and those guys were just robot endoskeletons wrapped in cloned human flesh.   The T-800′s are cyborgs, even though they don’t have human brains or human consciousness.   

Anyway, that’s why I use “android”.   It’s incorrect, and I know it’s incorrect, but it’s what the dub used, so I’m used to it, and there doesn’t seem to be a more “right” term available that covers all of these characters.   

This revelation makes 17 wonder why Gero ever bothered using humans in his experiments.  If he could build an android fighter from scratch, why did he abandon that design to make 17 and 18?   

This is something I like about the androids.   You’d expect the higher-number ones to be stronger, but instead Toriyama introduced them in reverse order.    16′s the strongest, then 17 and 18, then 19 and 20.   Movie 7 takes that idea one step further by having #13 be even stronger still.   The implication is that Dr. Gero had his perfect killing machine ready to go a long time ago, but something about #16 worried him, so he went back to the drawing board and made something weaker.   Then 17 and 18 proved too hard to control, so he went back to the drawing board again and made #19, and then he decided to turn himself into an android, which is kind of stupid seeing as he’s the lynchpin to this whole operation.  If Gero fights Goku himself and loses, there’s no one left to build the next wave.  

I don’t know if this is about Gero being a perfectionist, or realizing that power couldn’t be the only factor in his design, or what.    You’d think the ideal android would combine traits from 16 through 20, but he seems to have abandoned one idea and moved on to another.    Why not build a cyborg with unlimited energy and the power to drain people’s ki?   Well, we can’t as Gero now, because 17 killed him.

Anyway, Vegeta finds them and challenges them to a fight.  

18 asks 16 to fight Vegeta first, because she wants to see what he can do, but he refuses.  So 18 decides to take care of him herself, because fuck this guy.   I’m a Vegeta fan, but come on.   Fuck this guy.  

Seriously, when has anyone ever said this and won a fight?   Like, in Iron Man 2, Happy Hogan tries to go easy on Black Widow because she’s disguised as a secretary and he doesn’t know she can kick his ass, and she kicks his ass.     No one ever goes “Well, I’ll probably win because you’re just a dumb ol’ girl,” and actually wins.  

Seriously, this is just ingrained in my head after a lifetime of watching pop culture stuff.    It always seemed surreal to me when I play Street Fighter II as Chun-Li and she loses, like she’s just supposed to automatically instakill her opponents.     My default assumption is that if I ever got in a fight with a woman, any woman, that she would probably win, because that’s what happens on TV.   I don’t know exactly how they’d do it.    I’m not very tough, so it’s not like I’d be hard to beat anyway, but if I saw a woman in a coma in the hospital I’d be like “Yeah, I better not mess with her, she could probably kick my ass.”    Is it a stupid way to live?  Maybe.    It’s also healthier.   

I’m just saying Vegeta should watch more TV.    He doesn’t have to learn everything the hard way.