#could also just be the fang prosthetics but that could be a good way to justify it in universe

[cottoncandysprite]

Oh my god. Nadja and Laszlo don't kiss on camera bc Laszlo's a Victorian

[somestorythoughts]

Eldritch Echo - Part 7

I return. There are explanations here! The kind that answer the what and not the why, but explanations nonetheless. Someone also asks if they can eat the Chancellor, but I promise he doesn't actually want to eat him. That much corruption definitely tastes nasty. Also @mezmatch I'm not sure if I've been tagging correctly but hope this is visible.

In Coruscant, CMO Blood ignores the way the wall across from him peels away from the emerging face with stone eyes and needle-long fangs. He’s stitching a gash in the leg of one of his Corries and isn’t about to pause to look at a dramatic ARC.

“Sitrep?”

“I’ve finished with the Guard. The slicers developed something, but they were debating how to send it out last night. I don’t know if they’ve decided yet. And you?”

“I’ve got the files. Three copies with me, three with the medics you directed me to on Kamino. You sure we can’t-”

“I didn’t know you wanted to be a cannibal so badly.”

“I don’t, I’m just saying that if we ate him we’d be extra sure he wouldn’t survive.”

“A beheading is just as effective and less gross.” Blood replied, leaving the unconscious vod so he could wash his hands. “Give me one of those copies and then keep yourself busy for the next two hours. The meeting is in two and a half, and we need you to play your part in this plan.”

ARC Trooper Fives grins, eager and angry. “Don’t worry Blood. I’ll be there.”

…

In the Marauder, Wrecker approaches Echo, who’s been reading for the past hour. “We’re gonna talk about what we know about your thing. I thought you’d want to know, and since you’d probably listen in anyway I should just invite you?”

“Thanks Wrecker.” Echo replies. He’d been listening to their conversations as much to know if they wanted to kick him out as to see how their investigation was going. As a twin he’s used to looking strange from time to time, but there’s strange and there’s forcibly and painfully altered before being used to kill vod. He’s growing comfortable with his new limbs and his new team, but he hasn’t fully reached comfortable yet. And he thinks it’s mutual, maybe especially now that he’s been messing with them.

But hiding it isn’t a long-term solution, not on a ship this small. The Bad Batch says they like weird. If they’re honest about that, his tendency to occasionally grow claws and turn blue shouldn’t be a problem.

He catches Hunter’s eye when he follows Wrecker in and the Sergent shrugs. Crosshair gives Echo his usual scowl, which he uses for everything from inconvenient terrain to burned coffee, so that’s probably not too bad. “Any chance you’ll just give us an answer?”

“It’s payback.” Echo grins, needle-sharp for all of a second. “For those two times you forgot I hadn’t memorized your plans yet. And the smell of the ship. It’s also entertaining.”

“Your plans are the same kind of crazy don’t deny it.” Hunter sighs. “Can you at least agree not to lie if we ask?”

“I never lied. Not for these questions.” And it’s true. Crosshair may have gotten nowhere with his questions, but every answer Echo had given had been either blatantly ridiculous or true but vague. He’d gotten a lot of entertainment out of it this week.

“We should start by reviewing what we know.” Tech states. “Echo has some form of deviancy from the Prime that expresses itself in multiple ways. They mostly appear to be physical but has also included using his shadow to eavesdrop and talk to us when he was in another room.” He paused, then glanced up. “Incidentally, could you use that to scout ahead?”

Echo made a so-so gesture. “Depends on the terrain. I wouldn’t recommend it over someone scouting ahead in person, but it’s helped before. And I’m not separate from my shadow, I can’t pay attention to what’s in front of me and what’s in front of my shadow at the same time.”

“That is good to know.” Tech replied. “We have seen multiple examples of your shape changing in small ways, not enough to indicate your limits, though from your comment about your prosthetics I believe you either cannot alter them or are still learning how to. Is that correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you elaborate?”

Echo tilts his head back, frowning. He’s tried to put words to this before, he likes words, and he’s trying to remember what he’d thought then. “The changing is a bit like a reflex. You can stop it – we all did our best too while we were on Kamino – but it’s also partly automatic. My body’s still adjusting to the prosthetics so they don’t change as much on their own, and I’m still adjusting mentally, so it takes a little more effort to do something like this.”

He raised his right arm. The scomp end split apart into something like a flower, Torrent blue with red stripes.

“There are more of you then.” Hunter states.

Echo smiled, bittersweet. The sweet glowed under his irises, the bitter ached in his throat and bruised his skin as if it was trying to do more than metaphorically suffocate him. “It’s never a good idea to assume you’re entirely alone in the universe. The first pair were decommissioned within their first year. The Kaminoans like uniformity, and from what Ninety-Nine told me that first pair was way off the mark. He said it was as if all of us that came later got the message somehow, our differences were quieter as tubies. But we’ve never adhered to uniformity well.”

Echo, who found comfort in the kind of quiet minute detail-work that was essential but considered boring, who had been threatened a time too many with decommissioning, and who was often overshadowed by his louder twin, had been an exception to that norm. Not anymore.

“And who’s we?” Crosshair asked.

As fun as this game has been, he might as well wrap it up. “We’re twins Crosshair. Myself and Fives, Cobalt and Cerulean, you know that absurdly cheerful medic in the 212th? He’s another.”

“But what is a twin when we’re all clones?”

Echo shrugged. “We just are. You know how you know how to reassemble a blaster, effortlessly and thoughtlessly? It’s like that but without the endless drills. Or the way most batches pick oldest and youngest by vibes. Each twin in a set was decanted on the same day, and when we find each other, we know. Fives I, I don’t remember meeting him and if he says he does he’s lying but, we’ve always known. Someone suggested there was Force stuff involved and it’s as good an explanation as any, but I don’t think any of us knows the why of it.”

Tech and Crosshair shared a glance before Tech said, almost hesitantly, “I read the report of ARC trooper Fives’ death. But you always talk about him in the present.”

Echo’s next breath shudders. “I, I would know. He’s the other half of my soul and I would know if he was truly gone. There was this shiny in Torrent a bit before the Citadel called Dogma. He’d lost his twin a few months before being sent out and I think the only thing keeping him going was his remaining batcher and his extreme loyalty to the Republic. He told him that he felt his twin die from all the way across Tipoca City. So I’d know.”

The squad glances at each other uncertainly and anything they might have said interrupted by a beeping from the console. Tech hurried to the pilot’s seat and Hunter sighed. “Mission time boys.”

Echo shoved up from the seat. Time to get to work.

[soullessduck13]

q!Tubbo Headcanons

This is gonna be a long one, so buckle up! There’s gonna be several sections and some headcanons are from other people and I will not care if you ‘steal’ mine, in fact I will actively encourage you to do so

All of this will be about the cubitos, even if I didn't put q! before every name

Visual (Outsider perspective)

His eyes looks like they’re clouded in a way? very muted, almost grey, green

He has a bunch of scars running across his face and assumably the rest of his body that looks like lightning or cracks

Brown hair with blonde tips, but when he joined it was just blonde

He’s missing an arm from spinning the wheel and replaced is with a robotic one that he can change depending on what tool he needs

He looks like some sort of avian. Sometimes.

...and sometimes, he looks like some sort of dragon.

Sometimes he looks like a goat!

Species

Tubbo is a very specific type of shapeshifter! He takes on traits from the people he hangs around the most, or the people he trusts a lot. And the eggs recognise that which is why Chayanne calls him an egg - because they do it too!

Some traits include

— The blonde hair, he got it from Phil, the reason it’s mainly brown now is because of Coypiso (will explain more)

— Feathers that kinda look like wings, got them from Phil

— Fangs, he got them from the eggs

— Talons/claws, from both Phil and Pac

It’s mostly from Phil, because they knew each other before Tubbo was unfrozen, and also I think Tubbo would say his prosthetic is enough mimicking Pac and Fit

He can hide these features, and he does with the wings because they get in the wings. When he first joined the island, he shifted between the different traits he's picked up on over the years (goat/bugs/avian/dragon) and depending on who he was talking to he was a different one. All of them included talons, and later on fangs after meeting the eggs.

Tubbo and god.

Tubbo is friends with a lot of demigods and knows a Goddess, who happens to be the wife of Philza!

The three that are the most present in his life on the island are

— Tommyinnit

— Bekymon

— piso4 / coypiso

Some posts that are related to this

What they’re demigods of

Who Tubbo follows also more thoughts on the demigods, how Tubbo connects with them etc

Who Tommy is connected to (and also how that relates to Phil and Wilbur)

The lightning that strikes him down? I don't think that's the feds. I think the admins and federation should be seperated more because they are. The admins are the ones striking Tubbo with lightning and blinding him. The admins are a higher power. That also absolutely hates Tubbo's guts because he has befriended three demigods, possibly more, and knows the Angel of Death, and the actual Goddess of Death. And their son, Wilbur.

He gets possessed by people a lot!! He's such a vessel and constantly has people talking inside his head or taking over his body. Chat is actually voices inside his head.

Just silly extra stuff

This is kind of species thing but also.. not? Tubbo can hear machines in a way only really aypierre can? Even then it's very different, because pierre speaks to the machines. Tubbo doesn't. Tubbo just like.. gets them.

Tubbo straight up has a phone. Why? Who knows! How did he get it? Good question! Why on god's green earth is the federation letting him keep it? Because they don't even know he has one. Who does, you ask? Nobody! Except for Chayanne because he called Jack Manifold that one time. Tubbo only uses it to call his friends and text his parents. He doesn't even realize he could use it to get out of here, or that maybe he should tell people he has phone.

The reason for Tubbo's eyes looking cloudy is mostly visual design! His vision is so much worse because of the fact he gets blinded by the admins so much that it permanently affected his eyesight. His goggles help him see better, he added prescription to them so he could see.

This post will absolutely get added onto as time goes on, I hope everyone who read this like my silly headcanons

[the-s1lly-corner]

Random creepypasta character hcs VOL. 3(?)

Lost count on these but yeah I wanna drop more headcannons!!!

Nina is genderfluid and uses any pronouns! They also wear binders every now and then + they wear pride jewelry

Also they dye their hair like. A few shades lighter because he likes how the roots look when they grow out!! Same note they dye their own hair!!

I'm sorry for really focusing on nina but I've been flashing my design for her; but she also wears fake fangs

Before eyeless jack became eyeless, he has heterochromia! One eye was brown and the other was more gold!

Obligatory "I hc that ej and nina would be friends" but they do each others nails and would help each other put together outfits

A majority of eyeless Jack's shirts are band shirts

The neighborhood, TV girl, hollywood undead, mother mother, ICP, ect ect are a few of his favorites! Granted I think his wardrobe would become more limited since he lives in the woods alone in my au...

Still focusing on EJ, in my au before he got all.. monsterified... I feel like he was studying to be a doctor

Ironic and kinda messed up considering now he's forced to dissect people to sustain his own body but yeah

I'm pretty sure I said this before but I'll say it again since I love the concept; but Ben 99% of the time is bound to electronic devices. Basically meaning you'll rarely, if ever, see him drag himself out. Even when he does it takes a lot out of him, and he can only wander for so long until he has to go back

More au stuff but to help give jill her own unique vibe and stuff, I designed her to look like those old dolls you'd see way back then. You know the ones, with the porcelain faces and ragdoll-like bodies!! She still has her black and white clown look but yeah!! Due to this she also has visible tears and stitches on her; mainly on the limbs!! I also kinda wanna give her a sort of lolita dress look, if I ever draw her again! Give her loads of frills and stuff

Tying this all off since shes made to resemble a doll shes short 😔☝️ a moment of silence for lady

She can still stretch her limbs like jack, though

Though tbh idk if jill could do that or not <\3 but shh it's my au

Jane is much more... well idk the right wording, but I guess shes more masc presenting in my hc/au? She doesnt wear a dress or pair of heels like her canon look

I adore her canon look dont get me wrong, but I feel like considering that shes gunning for Jeff, that isnt too practical; esp considering jeff is.... something else

Basically wears stuff that's easier to run in, add some protection to her if she falls, swap the heels out with running shoes, no dangly accessories, ties her hair back. If not she'd definitely cut it down short

She still has her mask, though, but its a prosthetic she made/received herself since I dont think she'd want to touch the one jeff gave her

So yeah!!

Also I feel like, out of most the creepypastas, she has the best chance of living her own life in society; she only has intention to end game jeff, but asides that shes just. Mostly normal. Shes in therapy for her trauma, she has a job, she lives in her own place, ect

Oh that also reminds me! I keep rattling in about "my au" this, "my au" that, but I havent actually... released anything about it outside of headcannons

Idk if it'll be out in written fanfics, or as comics, or just one shot half au-accurate drawings or WHAT but

Basic run down of the au; time skip has taken place, havent decided a set amount of years, but it's been long enough that characters (that age) like jeff or jane are in their 20s (so like anywhere between 7-13ish years)

Slender still has his mansion, but it's hardly like anything the old fandom had,, it's no where near as huge or extravagant; its about as good as an abandoned mansion can be with little to no access to materials to upkeep it, and hardly anyone lives in it

Also same area ej lives, but they don't interact much and have a tense dynamic; both refuse to change locations

Still fleshing out the mansion idea!! So this is subject to change!!

Anywaus

Obviously characters who dont age/are ghosts/undead dont change ages; so like ben and sally are still the same, and the same applies to others like

Uuuuuh

Puppeteer, laughing jack and jill, slender and his brothers (this au does not include THAT one, fuck that one, we only have splendor and trender here), zalgo

Oh speaking of zalgo! He exists!! They don't really have a physical/tangible form though, hes more so a concept/untouchable entity that corrupts whatever it touches and causes chaos

Anyways

Also eyeless Jack's aging is... slowed; not by much but yeah!! Side effect of his curse and the whole "his body is changing into something horrific", and the slow age thing is a whole thing about the curse trying to extend his life span in order to cause more damage to himself and others

Real goofy stuff

Anyways

Laughing jack lives in his lil box and mostly transfers from person to person via the box being passed around

Be it garage sales or being sold in a goodwill, he eventually finds a new family to torment

No one suspects the old ass jack in the box!!!!

Ysah that's about it

Sits

Anyways yall should totally send me In requests (please read my pinned first!!)

[fangedprinx]

This seems to be a popular idea, so I am going to start fleshing it out more! Especially since my Kitty was also into the idea (hi Kitty 😘

I will mull over what kind of induction to do, and how best to keep it species neutral so that it could work equally well for furries or monsterfuckers or people who are into vampires (so if you're imagining a pred who doesn't have fangs, I'm sorry) (if you're into humans just pretend they've got good chompers or prosthetic fangs I suppose)

As well as the requisite safeties needed

If people are going to get all wobbly legged and weak over being chased or trapped or caught, I want it to be in a safe way

Maybe I should write a script for inducing a submissive prey-like mindset on command at some point in the near future 🤔

Tilt your head back, expose your neck and feel your heart go pitter-patter with a mixture of fear and excitement

Very much feeling the pred/prey theme right now

Or perhaps a not explicitly dominant or submissive feeling of freedom and wildness and ability to explore desires (or one for that, and one for the prey thing) (I want to provide for both if I do more mindset type files)

[cozy-mp3]

two halloween drabbles (for you, as a treat)

ellie x female!reader + abby x gn!reader

one: ellie fully embraces her costume

two: you and abby have differing opinions on candy

word count: 400(ish) & 600(ish) words

warnings: all fluff no smut, suggestions of sex(?), biting, kissing, reader likes candy corn because i like candy corn and what is this acc if not self indulgent, i also like licorice tho the girls that get it get it, not proofread bc i wrote this on a whim while watching a streamer play re7

(1) fangs - ellie x reader

“ellie, please stop,” you groan, shaking your shoulders to try and detach your girlfriend from your back, “you’re gonna make me fuck up this eyeliner,” you whine as she wraps herself around you tighter, her arms a band snug beneath your breasts and her face pressed against the curve of your neck. she makes a considering little hum before she replies, not letting go of you but shifting her lips from your skin.

“no, i like biting you,” she hums, meeting your eyes in the bathroom mirror and giving you a grin that shows all her teeth, her natural kanines covered by prosthetic vampire fangs. they’re blunt so it doesn’t hurt when she presses them to the skin of your neck again, her lips brushing against you in a way that makes you want to squirm and arch against her. and you’d like to, you would love to in fact, but you’d promised dina you’d drag ellie to at least one halloween party this year and you weren’t planning on letting her down.

“ellie, please,” you complain again, moving your eyeliner away from your face when the jostling you’re doing in an attempt to remove her gets a little too lively.

“you taste so good though, baby,” she tells you as she presses kisses up the length of your neck, her fake fangs brushing over the spot where your pulse flutters beneath your skin.

“you’re not a real vampire, els, you can’t taste shit,” you laugh, finally relenting and leaning back into her touch. she hums happily and pushes you up against the counter, letting her hands drift down to your hips as she bites down again gently.

“sure, but if i could i bet you’d taste amazing,” she responds easily, her tongue running lightly over the indents her fangs have left on your skin.

“well, you’re not gonna find out right now because we’re going to that party,” you say, sticking the cap back on your eyeliner and turning in her arms so you can look at her face. she’s pouting and the fangs are digging into her bottom lip in a way that looks uncomfortable, so you use your thumb to ease her lip from between her teeth, “i’ll let you bite me as much as you want later,” you add, just because you melt like butter when she’s giving you eyes like that, “deal?,” you ask, leaning back far enough that you can shake hands between your bodies.

“ok, deal,” she agrees, leaning forward and kissing the corner of your mouth.

(2) the problem with candy corn - abby x reader

“i can’t believe you like that shit,” abby says, wrinkling her nose at the bag of candy corn you’re holding as you approach. she’s left a spot for you on the couch and you slip into it easily, tucking yourself against her side and leaning against her heavily.

“i don’t say anything about your bad taste in candy, leave me alone,” you huff, giving her an exaggerated frown and handing her her bad of black liquorice, “don’t act like you’re any better than me,” you add as she reaches for the tv remote to begin what you’re certain will be at least thirty minutes of flipping through netflix to decide on a movie. 

“at least i like adult candy,” she grumbles, dropping an absentminded kiss to the top of your head when you press yourself into her chest and rest your head beneath her chin, “candy corn is for kids, no adult needs that amount of sugar,” she continues as you pull a blanket up and over the two of you, you notice she’s wearing socks with pumpkins on them as you reach down and have to kiss her jaw to avoid calling her cute.

“liquorice isn’t for adults, abigail,  it’s for senior citizens,” you reply as you open your bag of candy, reaching in to begin eating though your movement is prevented by abby grabbing your wrist. you make a frustrated sound and shift so you can look up at her, your chin resting on the valley between her breasts and your candy crushed between your bodies, “what was that for?,” you ask, raising a brow at her expectantly.

“i can’t kiss you after you’ve eaten that,” she explains, leaning down so her forehead is resting against yours, she looks completely serious even though what she’s saying is about as silly as she ever gets, “i’ve got a quota i’ve got to fill and you’re not allowed any of that until i’ve filled it,” she tells you, using her hand that isn’t occupied to pinch your hip when you roll your eyes at her.

“you’re ridiculous,” you smile, though you oblige her easily and lean up to meet her lips when she gives you a hopeful look. you let out a happy sigh when she cups your jaw, her calloused thumb strokes your skin and you allow yourself to relax against her completely, hooking one of your legs over her hip.

“it’s not ridiculous,” she mumbles against your spit slick lips, her face serious when she leans away to look at you. she runs her same thumb over your swollen lips and smiles when you nip at her, running her second hand down your back and playing with the elastic of your pajama pants, “you’re so sweet already, if i kiss you after you’ve eaten that i’ll get cavities,” she says, though she quickly pulls a face not dissimilar to the face she made at the sight of the bag of candy corn and her cheeks tinge red when you laugh.

“cheesy doesn’t work for you, abs,” you chuckle and she hums in agreement, her cheeks still warm with her embarrassment. you shift until you’re laying on her more comfortably and as her arm wraps around your shoulders you lean up to kiss her again, not moving your lips from hers until any tension in her body eased and she’s able to give you a content smile when you pull away, “can i eat my candy now?,” you ask and it’s impossible not to smile at her exasperated expression. 

“yeah, sweetheart, go ahead” she smiles, leaning down to kiss you one last time before she reaches over towards the coffee table to find the tv remote again. 

[talesofsonicasura]

Madness Reborn

Chapter 1: Dharma and Karma

This was a bitch to write thanks to Writer's block so it might be awkward at the end. I'm trying to add more worldbuilding as the story progresses since Hank and MK's worlds are drastically different.

By the way, this particular chapter gets gory so if you guys came for any fluff, then I'll put markers for any that wish to skip. Type of violence being dismemberment, decapitation, electrocution, bisection and such. Madness Combat is a violent especially with our protagonist Hank. Also, incoming trauma towards children! Enjoy.

*Crck!* Fragments of a fine white lotus shaped porcelain plate laid ominously on the pristine stone floor. Tortured agonizing screams and maliciously vengeful roars tore these cries of help asunder. A thick aura of hatred, torment, madness but also sorrow follows behind the fierce howls. Not one of a monster but that of a mortal.

A frighteningly familiar sensation that can only be felt by one single soul. To this person, there was one other being who once held a malevolence just as great. He had gotten a lot better since then but this soul barely had any good kharmic energy to match a candlelight.

Yet that very tiny candlelight held a chance to grow and have their dharma renew. That hope is enough for action to be taken. Start preparation for a small trip that needs to be done. If her dear monkey can have his soul saved, so too could this new foreign one.

"'I am Hank the Zhànshì, you ain't getting out of my…'/Seems my goggles and mask were taken by a squirt." It was surprisingly warm for a sunny day in the middle of Fall. Morning sun had barely broken the last sunrise remnants so most people weren't awake at this hour. The perfect time for a certain child and his giant guardian to get ready for the day ahead.

Childish laughter rang from one of the city's very few forested parks. MK was currently being held up in the air from the scruff of his shirt by Hank's tail. The assassin's goggles wrapped around the boy's head, his face mask around the child's neck. Without these two items the man's facial features were easier to see.

He had no nose, eyebrows or visible eyes. Just a huge cross on his face as the horizontal one furrowed similar to an amused person's eyebrows. The man didn't have a lower jaw but a dark grey prosthetic bearing two large fangs. Lipless upper jaw presented long razor sharp teeth for a horrid underbite. A sight made more terrifying from the long tongue which hung as Hank howled in amusement.

Well it wasn't really scary for the young boy since he impishly stuck his own tongue out. The cross for a face and floating hand were natural traits of Hank's species: Grunts or Crosslings. Both eyes alongside their mouths were just concealable. MK had seen the giant's eyes on quite a few occasions. Nearly sunken pitch black bearing ominous red slits for pupils.

For why he's so big is because Hank is a Magnified Grunt or MAG. Actually a failed one since his magnification got interrupted halfway through. Otherwise the man would've been around 7 ft at most. As for the metal jaw… "A psychopathic zombie clown eviscerated it from pummeling my head a few times." MK didn't really question that bit and took Hank's word for it.

"Now why did you snatch my goggles and face mask?" The question held an amused tone rather than what usually would be irritation for him. Another sign that MK dug himself a place in the assassin's heart: Stealing From Hank is a death sentence. He brutally killed his fair share of thieves dumb enough to try.

"They look cool so I thought about trying them on-ZHÀNSHÌ!" MK giggled uncontrollably when the assassin began licking his cheek. It wasn't the first time the man had done it. Since MAGs were closer to their animal instincts, grooming tendencies were an uncommon trait.

MK would often compare it to doggy kisses since Hank didn't have any lips. The man only stopped his licking when the kid gave him back both items. "Knew that work. Now come on, I can't get you a pair of goggles if you aren't with me at the store." He barely managed to put on the face mask before MK tackled him in excitement.

For someone barely even reaching his knees, the seven year old had some impressive strength. "Thank you bàba!" MK didn't notice the giant stiffen as his patchwork brain blue screens. He heard that word many times during his entire stay in this world so the failed MAG knew what it meant. Father.

Was…was he? 'Can I really think of myself as his bàba?' Even when MK fired a thousand questions about his new goggles while they headed over to the city's shopping district, Hank remains lost in thought. Too distracted to notice the feeling of being watched.

"What a fascinating addition to my collection. Glad I was able to snatch one of the last remaining three for such a good bargain!" Within a pitch black abyss, the silhouette of a single figure could be seen before the only light source. A fluorescent lamp that shone down on a stone statue of an enchanting fox. Its 10 tails all fanned out, sharp teeth in a vicious snarl and eyes sharp in rage. The unnerving lifelike visage of a cornered predator.

More light came pouring inside when the door to the room flew open. "Sir. I believe I found a very unique item for your collection." A photo was handed over to the shadowy person. The darkness kept many from seeing the malicious smile that etched itself on the stranger.

"How peculiar yet so intimidating! Those sharp spines, powerful claws and ferocious visage! A new species or a survivor of a near extinct one? Call an assembly now! This fantastical beast cannot slip through my fingers."

More lamps suddenly came to life one by one, each with a terrible truth. Hundreds of statues sitting atop their own pedestals. Rage, fear and even teary sorrow painted on every stone face. One empty pedestal held a picture depicting a bloody Hank standing in a street full of fresh corpses.

"Another bust!" The assassin could only pat his little ward on the head. Both of them had been searching for a place to get some goggles. A task proving harder than it should be as every store had an issue. Goggles were sold out, not in MK's size or there were no options to order any kind. Hank would have threatened the clerk like he usually does but he wasn't in Nevada and MK is there too.

Thus they lucked out from being target practice for the weapons he stole off that gang. Not like the dead pricks have any more use for them now. After the tenth shop, Hank believed a snack break was needed. He currently sat outside a sweet shop for his order of egg tarts, red bean buns and sweet egg buns while MK played on the store's small playground.

In Nevada a lot of things were very scarce to the point they're either nonexistent or overpriced to hell. Anything sugar related was just that since a desert covered wasteland isn't exactly a good place to farm, w/o bandits and Zeds. Hank's recently acquired funds would be enough to pay for the order and leave a nice tip.

The man's swaying tail came to a halt when someone sat down on his table adjacent from him. EVERYONE had given this particular spot a wideberth the moment Hank set off some killer intent. Only stopping so the waitress could take their order without issue.

He looked up to see the culprit being a human woman. Quite beautiful with neatly braided long raven hair, soft light peach porcelain skin, slim elegant figure draped in a simple pink dress covered in white lotus embroidery. Other than her closed eyes, Hank felt something was off with the woman.

A familiar otherworldly feeling that he got being around Jebus, Phobos, the Auditor and even damn Tricky the Clown. The fact he DIDN'T feel like hurting someone just solidifies it for Hank. She wasn't human but instead something closer to a god.

"I hope you don't mind me sitting here for a moment. You seemed awfully lonely so I thought of providing some company." Her voice so soft, light and soothing made Hank even more wary of her attentions. "Who are you really?"

The woman tilted her head a bit in curiosity at the miniscule killing intent from the assassin. Although it wasn't fully malicious in nature because of the child currently sliding down the plastic slide. "Just a mere curious soul. How are you doing today?"

Hank kept silent for a moment as if looking for any red flags. "Irritated." If it wasn't for this strange pacifying aura, he would be growling right now. To have something like violence engraved in your soul to suddenly be cut off from it felt WRONG for Hank.

Not even the MAG part of him could imagine causing harm . "Hey bàba! Look at what I can do!" Hank focused on MK who was now doing a handstand. The kid was slightly shaky but otherwise had great balance. His tail wagged pridefully at the sight much to the man's betrayal.

When Hank went to face the woman, she was already gone. Almost if the lady never existed if it weren't for the small note on the table and a pair of goggles… The headwear was a similar type as the assassin's but had sky blue lenses instead.

'I hope these shall greatly assist you and your child. Be wary though as more dangerous beings have taken notice of your peculiar nature. Mercy isn't something they shall give. It's best to tell the difference between a potential friend and foe.' Hank haphazardly pocketed the offending paper.

Cryptic gods were something he absolutely loathed as they liked to dance around the damn answer. Only clue he had on the lady's identity being the whole lotus motif. Maybe MK might have some answers. For now, he got the kid's goggles and a warning.

Night was quick to swallow up the day over Megapolis. Too fast for those more conscious of the dangers that prefer stirring trouble in total darkness. Hank and by proxy MK can easily agree with the sentiment. After they had enjoyed their snack break, it was about time to find a squatting spot for the night.

The earlier you are to an abandoned building, the less likely someone else would be living inside. It didn't help that they weren't having much luck either. Nearly every place in the area had eerie signs of someone still living there. Doesn't help that the occupied homes had no attics or basements they could slip inside.

As it looks now, MK and Hank will be sleeping outside tonight. The latter being more on edge about the prospect especially when that little note is still in his breast pocket. He could see and smell the signs of sabotage on every building.

It aggravated the man's animalistic maternal instincts when MK grips his hand tighter. The boy's new goggles sat neatly atop his head. Strangely the headwear was the perfect fit for the youth and felt completely comfortable to wear.

MK put on his new goggles in hopes that they give him some courage. It seemed to work as everything felt peaceful under a blue tinted view. Probably explains why Hank rarely takes his off except for bedtime or alone with his ward. Speaking of said grunt, he had finally stopped to check the city map he nabbed from a tourist stand.

"Hmm… there should be a camping store nearby. Probably get ourselves a tent or even a tarp if we're lucky." MK paid more attention to looking at the scenario with his goggles than Hank's mumbles. Right now they were in the industrial district which meant dumpsters and abandoned businesses would have all sorts of goodies to find.

Now the brunette never really saw anyone but Hank with his new goggles. Something that made his double take more reasonable when he saw someone else. It was an approaching human man with a gold aura around him intertwined by thick black smoke strands. Flairs that weren't there when MK didn't have the goggles on.

Almost if it could see… His heart dropped as blue tinted eyes saw the sheen of metal in the man's jacket sleeve. This man wants to hurt them. MK didn't know if it was the sinister smoke or the ornament butterfly knife sliding out the sleeve into an awaiting. But his right hand frantically dove towards Hank's pocket. He took whatever he pulled and… *BOOM*

*Warning! Incoming gore related violence.*

The assassin immediately went stiff from the brutal tempo of a very close gunshot. His eyes caught someone lying in a growing pool not too far from them. Part of the guy's head was gone and his new gun in a shaken MK's hands. It didn't take a genius to know what happened… Kid had gotten his first kill.

Things only grew worse once the dead man's associates came swarming out from everywhere. All human with every one brandishing weapons from swords, lances to even shock batons. A sight that flared a primal instinct within Hank. One he still wasn't used to: Protect.

MK found himself pressed securely against the giant's chest, the gun now absent from his small hands. Hank's black trenchcoat and floating hand blanketed the small boy from sight of the impending slaughter. The Failed MAG got on all three, his tail arched back like a scorpion as the pale spines on his body crackle in black electricity.

Hank took a deep breath then let out his killing intent in a bloodcurdling roar. The stillness of the night torn asunder by pure fury, hatred and malice. All unlucky to hear it were either paralyzed with fear or collapsed from the overwhelming ferocity. Even the district itself shook as every animal resident fled in sheer terror.

The duo's attackers were the unluckiest victims for whatever bravado and fighting spirit they had shattered. Realization that this particular target wasn't just a predator. No, the beast is something none of them could ever fight. They foolishly try to hunt wrath's incarnate, an Asura.

Every fighter went to turn tail, some dropping their weapons, most tripping on their feet and very few were able to turn around. A bad move for Hank viciously slammed his tail into the ground. The street shattered underneath his prey as black electricity carved out destruction.

Hank was on them in seconds for a bloke in the far back found sharp claws tearing their neck out. The sight enforced their fear of death as it seemed the giant had the power to teleport. In truth, it was something far greater: probability.

Some men manage to raise their weapons and stomach the fear. If they could at least hurt the beast then maybe there's a chance to survive. Even a sliver to capture their target as a more burly warrior swung his large battle-axe. An idea crushed literally under Hank's beartrap maw alongside the smuckerfuck's head.

The Grunt's long tongue licking up every bit of gold tinted crimson viscera on his face hurled that hope instead of just some blokes' dinner. Screams fill the night as Hank continues to paint the street red. Bullets through the heart or head were merciful compared to what happens by the beast's own hand.

Heads shredded by teeth, black electricity, boots or claws. Limbs ripped off like a doll in the hands of an angry child. The unluckiest prey found themselves bisected by hand or disemboweled by teeth. Grisly display of wrath that makes even a devil piss themselves.

Despite everything, none of that blood and gore reached the child held protectively by the 'asura'. Not a single drop when sharp teeth tore out a spine, pale spikes shred through the neck flesh, or electrically charged claws destroyed someone's rib cage. MK was shielded from the brutality and safely wept in Hank's chest.

Then something happened that made the small child still. It wasn't the fading screams of their attackers nor the heavy iron scent. Before the last thug went silent, Hank let out one last roar. "NO ONE MAKES MY BABY CRY AND WALKS AWAY ALIVE!"

*Gore ended.*

Baby… The giant who had been caring for him really thought of MK as his child. He had been on his own for so long that such a reality will always be a dream. An idea the boy craved whenever he saw children being happy with their families, blood or adopted. Something he had believed became impossible as no one would want a killer as their son. Even thought that his relationship with Hank would be nothing more than guardian and ward.

But it did come true. He really does have a family now. Something MK held onto as if fearing it would slip from his grasp. Hank enforced it because he never let go as the man looked for shelter. Even when he had finally sat down within a small temple deep in the woods and covered MK's small body with the bloodless side of jacket.

MK would soon drift to sleep from the soothing beat of Hank's heart as large arms cradle him protectively. For now, this family will rest peacefully before the statue of a woman that eerily looks like the person Hank met. Safe from the dangers that their actions will cause.

"Breaking News! A massacre consisting of 36 bodies have been found in the industrial district. Shockingly every single victim was immortal. Film production for a scene in the Monkey Cop reboot has been put on hold as officials attempt to find clues on Megapolis' vigilante dubbed The Asura. Only lead so far is the blood found in a small temple for the Goddess of Mercy, Guanyin. Strangely there was water under the statue's eye."

MK got his first kill so he's a bit messed up from it. Trust me when I say that him living on the streets was something he chose as the alternative is worse in his opinion. Hank isn't really one to express comfort in words but his actions. First kills are difficult for someone to process especially out of self defense.

And yes, it was Guanyin that Hank end up encountering. Guanyin is the Goddess of Mercy and a main character in Journey To The West as she was responsible for Sun Wukong's chance at redemption.

She is depicted as a deity who sees that every person has a chance to become enlightened in one of their incarnations. In one iteration where she was sent to the Underworld, Guanyin nearly turned all of Hell into a paradise from her good kharmic energy and King Yama, the one in charge of this realm, had to make her leave. Yeah, she practically devastated the Underworld with good vibes.

Guanyin is often depicted with a pacifying aura that practically neutralizes any chance of violence around her. Anyone, she is definitely going try and help Hank similar to Sun Wukong. For MK's goggles, to put it simply it has the ability to tell friend or foe amongst strangers.

Now for why Hank knew she was a deity in disguise, some of his enemies either had godlike powers or were some type of godly entity such as Jebus, Phobos and the Auditor.

He been on the receiving end when it comes to such things but also came in contact with a sacred artifact bearing the same power. As for the Asura, they are wrathful gods portrayed in various versions of religion including Buddhism. Sometimes they are depicted as a form Buddhas can become when their fury is summoned.

Trust me when I say that Hank and MK killing immortals is going to land them in a lot of trouble. Especially since the Collector hires immortal mercenaries more often than yaoguai. Just know that immortals are harder to kill that enchanted weapons are mostly required if one doesn't have any good alternatives such as magic.

Next chapter is the consequences and should be introduction of our two monkeys. Until next time folks, continue to thrive in the madness and I'll see you back in Megapolis. BTW, the scene with MK and Hank at the beginning is based on this.

[1kook]

commercial break; SEVEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series ! happens a few months before part 7 

summary; And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan.  warnings; horny jk, jk wants to roleplay... everyone point n laugh, mentions of his impreg kink lol, making out, tits, honestly jk is just very horny n in love lol, jk in a vampire costume w fangs O_o rating; mature (18+) wc; 2k

notes; if u don’t know who lindsay is first of all ur sick, second of all here’s my queen’s top moments. also i just gotta say, this was originally gonna be a larger fic (a halloween special) for my ncouple, but i got a lil busy with school n ultimately didn't have time to invest in this as a whole installment so..... enjoy this commercial break instead!!

Jungkook loves Halloween.

He loves the pumpkin carving and the decorating. Loves the spooky music and the abundance of candy. He loves it, absolutely adores it, and for the second year in a row, he gets to spend it with you! Yet another person he loves very much.

He doesn’t remember ever being this excited for Halloween. Last year, you had roped him into going to some frat party with him, had egged him on, begged so cutely that it was your last year in college, baby until he caved. The two of you had spent the night drinking until you blacked out, Ubering home with your costumes half on, and then unceremoniously fucking in his living room with the blinds wide open.

(The next neighborhood meeting had been very awkward for Jungkook.)

It was his first time ever drinking with you like that, and he vaguely remembers, through his own drunken gaze, how cool you had been. Had absolutely owned a bunch of greasy football players at beer pong in your little sexy nurse costume. And when the crowd cheered your name, shrieked in awe, it had been him that you turned to for praise. “Did you see me, baby,” you had giggled, crowded him against the wall of this random house until Jungkook was sweating profusely. In lieu of a costume, he had worn a silly jogger set with a skeleton design that was supposed to glow in the dark, according to Amazon. You had told him he looked adorable, had kissed and squeezed his cheeks until Jungkook was a flustered mess.

It was still early into your relationship— if Jungkook did the math, you were only about five months in at that point —so he didn’t know how else to cope with the rapid thundering of his heart, the confession sitting on his tongue, the then scary L-word begging to be heard. So, he took you home and fucked you until your little nurse cap slid off your head and you were begging for him to let you cum, thus earning him his first ever offense for violating the neighborhood rules (i.e., traumatizing a group of middle schoolers by fucking in plain sight).

Long story short, Jungkook loves Halloween, and he loves it even more when he gets to spend it with you.

(He’ll never admit it, but he’s a hard romantic. He wants to do cheesy things with you, like cuddle you into his arms when you get scared, pat your head until you can look at whatever is happening on screen again. He wants you to feel safe in his arms, wants to be your refuge when things become too much. He likes to think he’s done a pretty good job so far.)

Jungkook’s plan goes like this:

First, welcome you with that Halloween basket you’ve been sending him tweet links about all month. The cute little Jack-O-lantern candy bucket stuffed with candy and hair ties and a soft Halloween themed blanket. It’s so cheesy, makes him blush when he catches sight of it in his closet, but Jungkook will do anything to please you.

Next, after presenting you with your Halloween gift and having you coo and tell him he’s a good boy, he’ll invite you to break your new soft blanket in. The living room will be prepared with an assortment of your favorite foods, the flat screen ready to play whatever horror movie the two of you settle on.

And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare.

It’s a perfect plan.

It’s the best way to spend his favorite holiday, with his favorite girl by his side and some of his favorite horror films on the big screen. Jungkook spends all of October geeked up for it, even considers hanging up lights around the living room to really set the mood. He’s so excited, can’t wait to spend another wonderful holiday at home with you, that he doesn’t fully realize why you haven’t brought up the long awaited topic of costumes.

“You like?” you ask, standing at the door of his bathroom with a sultry look in your eye, tits practically pouring out of the tight top you’ve wiggled into, skin oiled up scandalously. He fumbles with the fake vampire fang prosthetics he’d been trying to glue in for the better half of an hour.

He had heard the door open downstairs when you got here, had called out his mandatory greeting as he heard you come up the stairs. But none of that had prepared him for the sight of you in… whatever this was.

Jungkook doesn’t really understand exactly what you’re supposed to be dressed up as until the two of you are back downstairs—blinds drawn, full moon slipping in through the cracks—with some random horror movie pulled up on the TV. “I’m Lindsey,” you whine, brand new fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It shields your boobs from view, but he’s not sure if that’s a win or a loss. “From Total Drama Island!”

He settles in beside you, doesn’t get too comfortable because it’s nearing sundown now and he knows the herds of children are bound to start flowing in. “Uh huh,” he says mindlessly. His collar feels itchy, the overly-detailed vampire costume he meticulously scoured the internet for being one size too small. You snuggle into his side anyway.

“You don’t know anything about cinematic masterpieces,” you frown, avidly tuned into The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, because apparently you love horror movies all of a sudden, a fact that genuinely throws Jungkook off. He’s not sure what it is about you that had deluded him into thinking you would be a scaredy cat, but he doesn’t take the new bit of information too hard.

The doorbell rings right as the first gorey scene ends and you make a big show of huffing and whining as he rushes to answer it. But it’s only the beginning of the long night that awaits, and, as Jungkook comes to find, running back and forth from the door to the couch is harder than it seems.

Anyway, Jungkook’s neighborhood is a little posh, or ‘bougie’ as you like to claim, and trick-or-treating hours end a little before eleven pm. By then he’s tired, having refused your offer to switch places in fear that your boob might fall out of that scrap of fabric you call a top and earn him his second neighborly offense.

However, that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to your boobs falling out in private.

“Stupid,” you giggle when he gets caught in his long cape, the sound slowly melting into a whimper as he slips his hands beneath your top, fighting with the ridiculous push-up bra you’ve donned tonight. Hands tangle in his hair, mess up the careful side part he’d styled up for tonight, and legs lock around his waist. “Your curtains closed?” you tease.

He huffs, catches your chatty lips with his roughly, presses and presses until your mouth must bruise. He belatedly remembers about those sharp fangs he’d glued on—hey, if he was going to dress up as some gaudy monster it might as well be realistic—and doesn’t realize until he tries to bite your neck and you let out a little yelp. Truthfully, he feels bad right away, but then you’re practically dissolving in his arms so he plays along. “Shh,” he hisses.

The roar of a chainsaw and terrified screams fill the living room, almost drowning out the soft sounds you release by his ear. “O- Or what?” you pant, flinch when he pushes your sad excuse of a skirt up over your waist. “Gonna b- bite me?”

And so Jungkook does.

You shriek. “That hurts, you idiot!” you scold with a tiny whine in your voice, but Jungkook’s cock is so hard. Your tiny, tight outfit does you no favors. Tits in his face, tiny thong against his bulge. He wants to make you sob, litter bites and marks all over your skin until his love makes you ache. You must see the crazed look in his eyes, because you drop the scowl. “Hey,” you say slowly, hand on his chest. “You look like you’re gonna eat me.”

He lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wonders if you can feel his thundering heart beneath your palm. “Fuck,” he sighs, leaning away to regain his senses. Was it something in the air? Was it the fatigue? The full moon? Why did he want to fold you in half and fuck his cock into you until you were a crying, shivering mess? Something about you tonight, laid out for him to take, makes him feel absolutely insane. Starved and psycho; he just wants to take and take until you don’t have anything more to give. He purses his lips, tries to ignore the hot feeling in his lower abdomen when your hardened nipples register to his eyes. “I think I’m becoming evil.”

Of all the idiotic things his brain can come up with, this one is definitely top five. His cheeks flush right after, fueled by the boisterous laughter that escapes your lips at his statement. “Oh my god,” you gasp in glee, hands falling down beside your head. “You’re becoming evil?’

Jungkook frowns, flopping down on top of you to hide the embarrassment that paints his face. “Shut up,” he mumbles against your neck, warm and safe.

A hand cards through the back of his hair, nails dig lightly into his scalp. “Aren’t you the cutest little vampire,” you coo, seemingly ignoring the rock hard cock Jungkook presses against your thigh. He’s still so horny, has this sick thought that he could just pin you down right here, tear that silly costume to shreds and swallow you up in his lust. But your voice is so sweet, has his eyes fluttering shut as you gather him in his arms. “Silly vampire,” you hum, one leg thrown around his hip, a subtle roll of you hips up into him.

Jungkook huffs, licks a flat strip along the base of your neck. It draws a shaky exhale from you, has your hands digging into his back when he begins to slowly lap against the skin, nibble and tug until your back is deliciously arching up into him. “Wanna push you down,” he confesses quietly, hands securing themselves against your hips as he leans back. You're all dazed, eyes trained on his fanged mouth when he hesitantly adds, “l- little human.”

You could laugh, tease him for his sudden weird need to role play with you, but you don’t. A look of understanding crosses your face, sly smirk slowly following. “Oh?” you grin, hand coming around to cup his cheek. “The little vampire wants to use my body?” Jungkook tightens his jaw at your jab, but nods nonetheless.

You’re a feast before his eyes. Boobs in his face, pussy begging to be filled. You’re his, just like Jungkook is yours. And when you indulge him and his stupid whims—kinks, he should say, occasional interests that sometimes make him question himself—his heart feels warm and full. Proud and unashamed, like the truest version of himself when you look at him with those eyes. And your words only confirm it.

Your hands reach down for your top, pull the flimsy material over your head in one swoop that has your bra coming off with it. It drops to the floor. If it makes a sound, Jungkook doesn’t hear it over the shrieks of terror on screen. the blood deaths, the suspenseful music. All he hears is he hammering of his heart. 

It’s two of your sneaky fingers that come up to play, pinch one nipple tenderly as you meet his eyes. “It’s all yours,” you purr. “I’m all yours.”

And the thirst he feels, well. It’s a little vampiric, to say the least. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[istoriaen]

mortshe​:

reaping  claws  cling  to  the  eminent  scythe ,  occupying  her  prosthetic  ,  her  false  hand  ,  leaving  only  cool  flesh  available  for  the  prince  to  touch  .  she  allows  it  ,  though  her  fingers  tremble  ever  so  slightly  ,  uncertain  if  she  should  remove  herself  ,  cut  herself  off  from  joy  so  as  to  maintain  a  professional  look  .  and  yet  ,  nothing  about  this  is  professional  .

what  if  he  only  reaches  out  to  her  in  sympathy  ?  what  if  he  does  not  feel  the  same  ?

for  all  zagreus  is  open  regarding  his  emotional  responses  ,  he  is  also  unfailingly  polite  .  to  let  her  save  face  at  this  time is  something  he  would  do  .  her  fingers  flinch  ,  in  part  because  his  touch  is  a  brand  ,  BURNING  with  life  that  makes  her  fangs  ache  and  throat  dry  .

she  is  floating  ,  as  she  usually  does  .  it  brings  her  to  the  taller  god’s  eye  level  ,  though  she  is  still  prepared  to  hide  and  teleport  if  she  must  .  her  hood  only  partially  obscures  the  tension  in  her  aureate  eyes  ,  long  silvered  hair  beginning  to  lift  from  her  shoulders  in  uncertainty  ,  slight  duress.

❛  zagreus  ,  ❜  she  whispers  in  return  ,  her  soft  pronouncement  of  his  name  curling  between  them  like  ghosts  . 

she  would  be  the  first  to  admit  that  she  has  no  idea  what  she’s  doing  .  the  power  balance  between  her  and  zagreus  is  stacked  in  both  directions  ,  rendering  them  near  equals  .  the  easy  thing,  to  have  either  assert  control  of  the  situation  ,  feels  too  far  away  to  even  consider  .  this  is  a fucking  mess  ,  and  that’s  why  thanatos  tried  so  hard  to  keep  it  to  herself  .

she  just  can’t  ,  anymore  . 

(  oh  ,  there’s  so  much  they  need  to  discuss  .  there’s  so  much  he  doesn’t  know  ,  even  still  ;  so  much  he  doesn’t  understand  about  her  .  she  thinks  she  could  be  patient  enough  to  explain  .  she  thinks  she  could  do  it  .  )

zagreus  normally  is  the  verbose  one  ,  and  so  while  she’s  unaccustomed  to  saying  more  than  he  ,  now  words  especially  have  failed  her  . 

his  touch  burns  around  her  fingers  . 

she  likes  it  .

she floats before him, but he’s the one who feels weightless. he had no explanation for the weight that sat like a rock in his stomach until this moment. had no idea what he was holding onto until now. repeated memories of innocent moments playing out in his head suddenly snap into focus. he thought the fondness he felt for her was destined to be known to him alone.

her confession stirs courage within him, tugs at the corner of his mouth, releases whatever restraints he still has in place.

silver tendrils call to him, his free hand moving of its own accord, thumb light in its passes against her cheekbone, the rest of his fingers tentatively finding their place in her hair. he dares to pull her closer, gentle, gentle, in case she changes her mind ( gods, he hopes she won’t change her mind ). whatever doubts try to break through are stifled by the warmth that crawls along him, swallowed by the view before him.

they’d always toed the line, professional and personal, colleague and confidante; is she really ready to cross it for good? he figures he’ll ask as much, perhaps to the detriment of his own heart, but he can’t let the opportunity to see the other side slip away.

“   you’re sure?   ”

voice is soft, as if the moment is fragile, bound to shatter if he taps the glass in the wrong spot; as if it is only them in the world and he’s so desperate to keep it that way for a little while.

[heli0s-writes]

IV. Symbiosis

Summary: “Since you’ve been caught—” Fury squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries. Petty theft. Grand larceny. The damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

A/N: 4.8k words. I’m a liar who lies because after 4 months of overthinking and coming up with diddly squat, here is part 4 of Trinity Epoch sans smut. I’m sorry! I’ll double your pleasure next time. xx Thank you for sticking with me, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.

Warnings: Language. References to canon-typical violence.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

Bucky stays like that a while longer, just breathing.

Your fingers trace his hair—running through the strands, over the shell of his ear, then resting briefly on his cheek. All the ways you used to with Natasha when she’d break her own heart, or maybe ways you would have liked her to have done for you when you felt like you were dying a little bit.

You feel it now: a small death in the wake of last night’s simple touches. Your body and Steve’s body curled around each other sprung something immeasurable, as if the drift flowered then and ripened beneath your skins. You bit into it. You savored its taste. You could have lived on it alone.

Everything smears together like a child’s careless hand in a mess of paints until all the brights muddle dark. A shaky breath as you work yourself into calming, trying to find coherent words while your head remains a pot of sideways soup, at best.

Bucky shifts until he’s looking up at you, nose millimeters away. His irises are just a touch more gray, a sprinkle less green. You can see Steve in him, just as he can see Steve in you and then your eyes begin to prickle, Nat’s face undulating behind the burn.

You don’t really know what you want to say. Maybe apologize, run, beg for forgiveness, grab Bucky by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that you didn’t mean it— you didn’t mean to hurt him. That you love him. That he lives inside you, too.

His ghost from the drift— the aftermath phenomena of the neural bridge when pilots take on a bit of each other’s consciousness out of the cockpit and into the world with them. Take two people with a predisposition for the drift into the cockpit into each other’s brains and they exit heightened—sharper, better—imbued with each other’s strengths and knowledge. Mind-meld long enough, deep enough, and your core endures, but you become a different beast.

When Steve’s consciousness bled into yours, so did Bucky’s. If you walked away with half of Rogers, you also got a quarter of Barnes and it only compounded worse during Polidori’s drop. Resurrecting trauma, agitating itself, making a mess of your weary soul.

You relived his amputation last night, just as fresh as you relived Nat’s death. More visceral than the first trial run, you witnessed him—felt him—torn and hoarse, clutching his shoulder as he rocked helplessly inside Orion’s chest, frayed wires sparking across his cheek and landing in his own blood. His teeth gnashing together as he tried to hold on for Steve’s sake, steering his co-pilot’s panic back on course. Terrified and agonized, but he was hellbent on making it out.

Bucky who made you laugh. Bucky who took you to dinner. Who walked with you, gave you his jacket, listened to your rambling and crying, and kissed you because you reminded him of his co-pilot, or maybe of himself.  

How could you not love him, after all this?

Armageddon slows for nothing though, and before the first letter of his name can fall out recklessly from your mouth, three precise thumps jostles it back in.

Steve’s voice is muffled through heavy steel. “You in there?”

The door slides open with a tremulous croak but neither of you bother to separate. Nothing seems to matter now.

“Buck...” Steve looks from one raw face to the other, stepping forward and reaching out. He grasps Bucky’s hand. “We should talk—” he closes his mouth into a thin line, shoulders slumping heavily before letting go. “I’m sorry. Later. Shit’s hit the fan.”

-

The office is stagnant air full of questions but other than the squeak of the marshal leaning back in his chair, nobody makes a sound.

Fury untucks a finger from the crook of his elbow before pointing it between your eyes.

“Culpability.”

Across the room, you flinch in his crosshairs. Standing apart from them, you’re partially slack against one of many steel filing cabinets, using it to prop yourself up in case your knees might give out as vertigo descends.

It’s been a lot to take in. Everything— the night, the morning, emotionally, mentally, physically. The hull is a steel cage, and pilots are well armored, but you’re still hooked up to the robot enduring damage, taking hits at barely .0001 percent, but taking it all the same. You’re bruised up good beneath your clothes— Polidori’s claws leaving four tender imprints of a scratch to Orion’s right shoulder. Your shoulder. Steve’s shoulder.

To your right, he shifts. A tiny hint of pain streaks over his expression before it falls serene again, fixed on Fury.

“Since you’ve been caught—” the marshal squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries, petty theft, grand larceny, the damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

This thing, being any story a 13-year old kid with two thumbs and a twitter account can spin between now and when you let Pepper Potts spin it for you first. There’s not a lot imagination can’t conjure to fill in the blank pixelated space between Bucky standing on the curb and you right behind him wearing his cap and jacket. Not to mention that once speculation goes live, it starts sprouting all sorts of appendages with minds of their own, and no matter how diligently you might cut one off, two would only sprout in its place.

The marshal stands up and takes heavy steps before turning the corner of his desk, absently tapping a pile of folders together like they’re not already in a perfect column. He slips a manila folder out from the stack and it becomes obvious that his suggestion is just buildup to some other type of impetus.

When you open the file up under his sharp gaze, you feel the blood drain from your face and possibly from your entire body.

The bullet he aimed between your eyes hits home. Cue your brains blowing out slow. Impetus met.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky appears over your shoulder, staring at the same grainy photocopied document. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I make a lot of jokes?” Fury leans forward, pointer curving over the top edge, tapping emphatically one, two, three times, even waving it back and forth in front of your unseeing eyes. “I’ve got a good contact inside the PPDC who risked a lot to get this out. They’re just plans for now, dogeared behind other pages, but don’t doubt the Corps’ cowardice for a second. The second this program looks like it might not hold up, they’ll turn their efforts there.”

You’re gone. Trapped between the lines, vehemently scanning the page, reading the same words over and over until they no longer make sense. But it’s not like they made any sense in the first place.

ANTI-KAIJU WALL: CONSTRUCTION AGENDA. SPRING 2020.

The conception of a perimeter stretching around the Pan Pacific—North and Central America, East and South Asia to isolate emerging Kaiju. It’s a fetal skeleton at most, the roughest of outlines for a plan, and truthfully, it’s no plan at all.

It’s shameful. It’s shit.

The so-called Wall of Life implies the portending death of the Program—of all Shatterdomes and Jaegers. It implies no support, no funding, and no repairs. No Kodiak. No juniors. No future.

Back and forth, you’re still desperately inspecting as if the words might shift into a new message, maybe one that didn’t spell out certain extinction, but despair is rippling across your face. Bi Fang and Polidori had wings, and they were only Category II. Bi Fang massacred one of the best pilots you’ve ever known—and it was only a Category II. Any higher and they’d blow through that wall like a ribbon of wet toilet paper.

Hysteria creeps up at the mere thought of it, fear stubbornly lodging itself in your throat. Nuclear-powered automata—the only proven defense against the terror of massive alien attacks are being dismantled in favor of steel rods and cinderblocks. They might as well build it out of Legos.

Anti-Kaiju Wall. A string of ants meeting a boot.

You’re panting softly, tongue swollen in your mouth, shaking with equal parts terror and rage, on the verge of breaking into inappropriate laughter and yelling.

“What—what do they expect?” You croak, “The breach opens, the fucking thing comes out, sees a fence, and what—they think it’s—going to crawl back in…?”

“Hey, calm down,” Bucky curls his fingers around your elbow. His hand and its black plates are peering at you, purring, dull gold bands threading at the knuckles. For a second, the prosthetic disappears. For a second, he’s blood red again.

“Hey!” Bucky grips tightly when you sway. “I’m fine! Don’t—don’t.” Steve’s jaw is set firmly on your other side, arms crossed so severely his biceps bulge with the strain.

“Nick,” He’s abruptly brusque as he eases the file from your grip. “Give us a minute.”

“You’re in my office.” But the marshal’s words hold no bite. He’s already won; he knows. Cornered again, he’s got you same as before in Red Cloud. 

You get the gist: play out your redemption arc and come clean with your record. Win over the public, hoard all the additional support and funding you can because you’ll need every goddamn cent of it when the PPDC rips it away. The gossip. The photos. The headlines. It’s the perfect opportunity for a few hundred million when the media is putting a magnifying glass on your presence in Hong Kong.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

You’re just one small part of this colossal puzzle—a negligible smear of guts across the battlefield trying to keep the rest of the pieces together while the PPDC sits in their panic rooms throttling the entire fucking thing.

Fury steps to the cabinet and slides the file back in its place, keeping the illusion of it being just another unremarkable envelope in a row of hundreds of others. The metal drawer shuts with a clang, housing the most damning piece of information you’ve ever seen. His tact aside, you know he would never show you his hand like this if it wasn’t completely necessary—or pertinent.

Steve was right, you understand now.

The world owes you. And it owns you.

-

The next six—seven?—hours scatter like pulled teeth with your head spinning like a top the entire way. Pepper had been outside the door for the conversation, waiting on standby to whisk you off for princess lessons. Having already (and correctly) predicted your compliance, Fury scheduled an interview for precisely at nine. Then you were off, towed along by Miss Potts and her hasty strut.  

You try to find perspective, reminding yourself that you’ve successfully gone toe-to-toe with the Empire State Building with fifteen rows of teeth seven fucking times and come out on the other side alive and if not in one whole piece, then at least 2-3 relatively serviceable pieces. You’re functional. A little damaged, but fine enough. But there’s also the fact that you’d just hopped out of Orion not even 24 hours ago coupled with how you’re suddenly in the middle of something that feels less like a confused love triangle and more like divine providence at the end of the world.

Fuck. No time to think about it now. The human brain is not programmed to multitask, and you’re hanging on by a mere thread. You prioritize making it through the night just as alive as you can make it out of a drop. Just a couple of hours and you can rest. Just a couple more.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of simulating Q&A, practicing your posture, smiling into a mirror, and one horrible limo ride where you stared dead-eyed out the window—Steve and Bucky’s steely gazes after you—the building finally comes into view.  

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. You wear pants. You smile for the camera. You don’t stand in the middle of the group photo.

8:55 and time halts to a near stop. You can hear your heart in your throat, or in your skull. Your eyes feel switched from their sockets, or stomach rotated 30 degrees. Someone fixes your mic wire, your blouse collar, asking you to turn just a little over there. Three cameras are pointed to capture every angle, punitive red dots angry and glaring.

A live broadcast was agreed upon to ensure the least amount of potential edits and skews, as well as the charmingly quaint idea that it’s unscripted. The rub, therein, lies upon the burden of poise and a flawless performance. You rehearsed lines until your jaw felt like it was coming unhinged. Then you did it again. 

Everything requires precision, and you keep that in mind with your hand on the glass of Dom Perignon being constantly refilled. An amicable gesture by the hosts, but their intentions are cunning: loose lips sink ships, and they’re betting on yours to sink the S.S. Orion Bravo.

Out of view, the translator sits with her legs crossed, listening to the questions before turning the words over in English.

You take a sip of champagne and it fires off like a gunshot—Cantonese and English in rapid-fire verses.

<2017 was a fateful year for both the Jaeger Program and the world. Beloved pilot Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life to protect Alaska’s coast in a final battle against Category 2 Bi Fang. Memorials dedicated to Romanoff’s efforts appeared across every nation to lament her death and celebrate her heroism. Yet, somehow, no one seemed to be asking the million-dollar question: Where is her co-pilot?>

<Two days ago, pictures were taken in Hong Kong of James Barnes and a mysterious woman. Our sources here at TVB have worked tirelessly to uncover her identity.>

<Today we have the pleasure of introducing her to everyone tuning in. This is the first time you’ve ever been in the public eye, and astonishingly, next to two of the best pilots in the Program. There are so many questions, but first, the whole world wants to know…. why keep it secret?>

The host’s open hand urges your reply.

The lights seem to turn up even brighter. Your back starts sweating. The room is about to collapse. In short, naturally­­—infuriatingly—you choke.

Seven hours of droning like a broken wind up toy, already knowing how to answer this question by heart, prepping yourself for the interrogation, the relentless demand to publicize your grief, to placate the people about your relationship with their heroes—and, you choke.

Bucky’s chin tilts microscopically in the corner of your line of vision. You’re fine, he’s saying, you got it. He’s strangely calm, even pleased, as you stutter involuntarily. Like he’s the first to remember an inside joke you’d long forgotten, his grin widens the longer you look at him. Steve turns next. Focus. Don’t fight the drift. The drift is silence.

And suddenly, your shoulders ease. The static in your exhausted brain slides out of your ears.

You sit up tall. You smile. It doesn’t quite feel like your smile, but, it’s a good one. You know this smile; it’s Steve’s smile. Like a seamless assembly, you fall into rhythm.

The white of his teeth slip out from between Steve’s lips. He notices too.

You calmly recite the introductory speech you’d been practicing for the last two hours, feeling out your new voice, borrowing from his bearing—deeper, smoother, certain. The major points get run through: your record and own personality traits keeping you from the spotlight, admitting genuinely that you’re pretty damn uncomfortable now, so they’ll have to forgive you for any slip ups. It goes over well, as Pepper predicted; “candid” blunders made Rangers human—made them likable.

When the subject of Anchorage rolls back around, you can practically feel Steve’s jaw bulging preemptively. You graze his foot with yours as a warning to back off.

<It’s remarkable that you were able to bring the Jaeger back to shore, there has been only one pilot who was capable of that—>

“I’m thankful to have had Stacker Pentecost as my mentor. I owe so much of my resilience to him. It was difficult, but simply put, I had no other choice. I feel so lucky to have survived it.”

<Natasha Romanoff-->

“She was one of a kind.”

<Was it hard to—>

“Yes.”

The host clears his throat, visibly awkward that you’re being so terse, but taking the hint until  Bucky turns into the spotlight, that divorced happiness he’s so skilled at beaming into the lenses. 

Steve easily picks it up, steering the conversation where he wants it to go. He’s disarmingly sincere as he relays the process of Bucky’s injury, replacement, apprehension, and finally success

His bright blue eyes flicker secret messages and you decipher them all.

“The connection was like—"

There’s a bell chiming in your ears. Bright, crisp chirps of it, cutting through laughter and bickering. You taste summer air in your throat, Bucky’s hair flying in the wind. “Riding a bike…”

“Exactly. New bike, same motions, and it worked. It was great. We learned things about each other. Some good, some bad—”

Crosshatched pencil lines of their shared apartment. Smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook. “He’s an unbelievable artist, but—”

“No— don’t say it!”

Bucky smothering a small kitchen fire. Steve throwing a damp rag on him in a frantic attempt to assist. Your voice is bubbling out gleefully. “—an awful cook!”

“It’s true,” Bucky smugly chimes in. “The boy can’t boil water. Breakfast eggs come with shells every time.” You can taste the grit between your molars—crushed grains inside an overdone omelet, Bucky spitting out spinach and feta cheese.

“Oh my god,” you sputter into a sip of champagne. “It’s so bad.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with? Two people knowing my secrets. Two.”

<Fantastic! Already we can see a great friendship here—>

It seems congratulatory, but there’s determination to drive into scandalous territory, poking at any rumor to lance and leak. A sly smile crosses his face as his assistant shows photos of you and Bucky in the city, but the lurid suggestion only gets shrugged off. “We’d gone out for dinner. It was the first time I’d left the Shatterdome after Seigehook and I needed moral support.”

<The jacket tells a different story.>

“I’d give you my jacket if you looked cold.”

<Steve, Ophelia isn’t concerned that your new co-pilot is a woman?>

“No, absolutely not. ‘Lia’s the first person to support Orion—and the loudest. I don’t know what I’d do without her. You don’t have her behind the curtain, too, do you?”

<Well, what about personal memories? Won’t you know everything about each other…? Private things?>

“Sure, but what pair of pilots don’t? You got twins and siblings, not just married couples. Look, here’s the thing: the neural bridge doesn’t take you to a filing cabinet. It’s not open like that. It’s more like—somebody help me—” Bucky snaps his fingers your way, “—what’d you call it the other day?”

You didn’t, but you say, “A dream?”

“Right, a dream. If you think about it, you can pull on it, but if it’s not in the forefront of your mind. It’s a non-issue.”

“We’re all adults here,” Steve confirms.

<Do you plan for James to return to the cockpit? Is that the goal? James, how do you feel about all of this, taken away from your own Jaeger?>

Steve’s palm faces outward as if keeping the host at bay— or, you think, keeping himself at bay.  “Hold on. This isn’t about replacement. Nobody is framing it like a nail in the coffin—we’re in the interim of a period of time, readjusting. Short of death, nothing is going to take him away.”

Sunlight. Recruitment. Ice baths. Training until they had to carry each other to bed. Your eyes flutter, head pilfering through the memories like instinct.

“James is still Orion’s co-pilot.” You agree. Apprehension. Dread. Terror. Confidence in each other even when they didn’t believe in themselves. They were together. Nothing else mattered. “Steve’s co-pilot.”

The tight look on his face is temporarily wiped as he beams proudly, “He’s my Bucky. Always has been, always will be.” He claps Bucky on the back twice and each thump’s echo bounces its way into your chest.

Bucky bristles and sputters, but a healthy pink dusts its way across his cheeks, “Don’t embarrass me, Rogers.”

“Are you blushing?” You tease, elated.

“Don’t you start, either.”

<Well… this is very wonderful. Is there a possibility we’ll be seeing a triple-piloted machine? The Tang triplets have been in talks for a new model.>

Steve shakes his head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. Nothing’s off the table, by any means. Just not priority at the moment.”

<What is priority at the moment?>

“Normalcy, as much as we can get in the middle of all this.” Bucky holds out his hand, closing it into a fist, letting the camera zoom in. “We’re… still working through all the kinks, balancing the personal and global.” 

He flexes his fingers, letting the microphones pick up the drone of machinery, but his meaning is another secret. Clicking Morse codes of well-oiled obsidian plates purring two names. You’ve stopped listening to everything but the echo incandescent in your heart.

You down your glass.

-

Champagne tipsy, you try not to stagger through the lobby. The doorman nods toward the limousine parked faithfully by the curb.

The barrage of questions slowed after it became apparent that there would be no sensationalist headline. There was attention to Bucky’s arm, his handsome face, of course, before the banter quickly devolved into entertaining frivolous sidebar queries. Five flutes bubbled down your throat and by the end of it, you no longer wanted to grab camera one and shake the shit out of it, anger whittled down to a dull hum of annoyance.

Thirty million stupid dollars for inane reels of:

What’s in your purse? What do you eat? How do you stay feminine in a Shatterdome full of testosterone—have you tried any K-beauty skincare routines? Do you have anyone special in your life?

Bucky went in, then, leaning forward until he was nearly rocking off and leveled his glare. You know she’s on the other side of the same robot, buckled up into a ninety-pound rig steering two-hundred tons of—

It took a miracle (see: Steve’s firm hand discreetly on the back of Bucky’s neck and Pepper drawing a sharp line across her throat) to effectively halt the derailing train.

“I can’t believe,” Bucky grouses now, opening the door and waving the driver back to the front. “Those goddamn questions.”  

“Does wiping my sweaty face with my even sweatier shirt count as skincare? What’s the K stand for?”

Bucky smacks the back of your head with one hand, other clumsily yanking the door open with the other. “For Korean—have you been living under a rock? Just—get in the fuckin’ car.”

You slap him back. “Quit it, you invalid.”

“Invalid? I’ll show you a fuckin’—Steve, did you hear—”

“Both of you, get in the car.”

And you shriek, scrambling in and yanking Bucky along by the scruff of his jacket. Mischief courses beneath your skin, encouraged by clever alcohol, now fully buzzed its way to every extremity.

Still giggling and leaning into the thrill of it, you slump over the smooth plastic molding of the door and press your face against the tinted window. It’s a cool reprieve on your warmed cheek, frosting when your temperature meet the glass. Bucky’s easy Cantonese, albeit slurred, is requesting a ride back to base. His hand has found its way into yours, fingers laced large and warm, clasping tight before he lets go.

“Haven’t had a drink—oh--” you murmur, catching yourself as the wheels shift.

“Since Red Cloud.”

“Outta my head, Rogers.”

“Says the person who kept finishing my sentences during that interview.”

“It’s the champagne! It makes me—“

“Stupid?”

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” But you’re laughing at him, at the way he’s smirking— cheeks gone ruddy. Both of them, open beside each other, heads inclined intuitively together. It makes you ache to see—to experience again after disruption—Rogers and Barnes. Barnes and Rogers. Perfectly fitted.

The partition slides up. The sunroof tugs open with a whistling draft.

Hong Kong’s lights are vivid—too much to properly see the extent of space’s beauty, but there are a few twinkles you’re able to make out in the moonless night as light poles and skyscraper tips whiz overhead. They’re brighter than most, simple to spot patterns in the dark.

“Orion’s out tonight,” you mutter, moving to catch the line of its belt, “Look. Beneath his feet is Lepus, the hare, pursued for all time.” From across, Steve follows, also looking to find their hero as your hair rustles wildly, making a hurricane against your ear.

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Bucky scolds. He’s annoyed and comfortable on leather, ankle crossed over opposite knee. “You’re not being chased by anything. Besides, if you were a constellation, you’d probably be the soup ladle.”

You laugh. He’s always playing the part of a stoic so well. “Hey, I’ll have you know the Little Dipper’s got the north star in it. That soup ladle’s gonna be the thing that gets you home when you’re lost.”

The tone shifts—time dragging its pace as you look at them in wonder. The city’s overripe heaviness of the blows through, making goosebumps on heated skin.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky slips his jacket from his shoulders to slide over yours. He tugs the lapels down like he’s trying to keep you on earth and your hands clasp on his wrists for a second before you let go. They’re both sitting up now, watching your bleary gaze unfocus.

Steve and Bucky oscillate in front of your eyes, their lines blurring until it doesn’t really matter who you’re looking at—until they become one. So easy, like this, just them like two sides of the same coin, belonging so seamlessly to each other.

“Sorry,” you blurt in shame, “I feel like I fucked it up. Ruined a thing that wasn’t mine to ruin.”

“Think you put it together,” Steve responds quietly, and the simplicity of his statement throws you off. “We found our way.”

“Soup ladle,” Bucky jokes.

“But, aren’t we just trading one war for another? World peace only made it because of monsters.” Unspoken questions hidden inside large-scale metaphors— symbiosis could only be achieved under the lies of other relationships. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t be accepted. Steve still retains his supermodel girlfriend and you and Bucky dutifully fall in line for your own packaged little PR lies.

He shrugs. “I’m fine with losing a few battles in this war, but Orion’s got a good track record, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Twelve— thirteen kills, sweetheart.” Bucky’s grin is lopsided. “Don’t forget you made that happen.”

“Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Feels lucky to me.” Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse. He taps your skin, looking genuinely apologetic. “Listen, all I can do is ask— and I’m not good at asking for things. I just want to make them happen.” A quick glance at the watch under his cuffs and he tugs at your arm like a lost child, “So, before we get back… will you come here?”

As he said, he’s not really asking. More like reaching his will out to you, finding you when you’re caught in the undertow and pulling you back to safety. To them. Okay. Okay.

Your footing slips, but they take your hands and turn you carefully, letting you settle in between. Bucky hums a low sound, fingers curling around your waist. Steve does the same to the opposite side and you feel both torn apart and held together by them.

Steve nuzzles your neck, hot on your skin.

“She was wrong,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of your rising breath, “You know that? She was wrong, and I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t happen—thought I had other priorities, other things to manage and settle and save and... I lost sight of what matters most. But I’m gonna really fix it this time—I’m gonna do it right by you.” 

He looks to Bucky, pained and relieved, “Both of you, I promise.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his own and holds it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, his palm, saying softly, “I love you, Buck. I’m sorry you waited so long.”

“Hey stupid,” Bucky says shakily when your chin starts to quiver at the sight of them. He’s sniffling and swallowing his syllables, unable to stop himself from staring at Steve’s face in his hand, how Steve kisses the blue pulse in his wrist. “Ain’t you—too pretty to cry?”

The rocking of the car flattens out as Steve gently presses his lips to yours, letting the trail of salt bursting down your cheek into his mouth. He moves to the line of your jaw, promising,

It’s okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.

They kiss you and the world turns itself right.

They kiss you and then they kiss each other. Again and again and again.

[mst3kproject]

The Neanderthal Man

Since I'm taking a break from fishmen, I might as well let Bigfoot catch up a bit.  The Neanderthal Man isn't exactly a Bigfoot movie, but it’s along the same lines and its entire starring cast has MST3K pedigrees.  Robert Shayne was in Indestructible Man and Teenage Caveman. Richard Crane was Rocky Jones, Space Ranger! Beverly Garland was in Swamp Diamonds and Gunslinger. Even the composer, Albert Glasser, wrote music for Invasion USA, Last of the Wild Horses, and almost all of MST3K’s Bert I. Gordon movies.

Some little mountain town in the middle of the Sierras (which the Portentous 50's Narrator takes some trouble to tell us is a primeval place where 'the defacing hand of civilization has fallen but lightly') is having a rash of saber-toothed tiger sightings!  At first these are laughed off, but when the game warden himself sees one cross the road in the middle of the night, it's time to do something about it.  The warden shows a cast pawprint to Dr. Ross Harkness in Los Angeles, who is interested enough to come up and see for himself. Local Mad Scientist Dr. Groves pooh-poohs the whole thing, which is enough to tell me that we're not dealing with a local cryptid here.  Somebody is making prehistoric monsters.

So... I may not have actually run out of movies, but I seem to be running out of plots, because this is a remarkably similar movie to Monster on the Campus. The major difference between the two films is that Dr. Blake turned himself into a caveman by accident, while Dr. Groves here is doing it on purpose.

Another difference is that Monster on the Campus' story, while silly, was linear – events escalated in a way that felt logical, and there were reasons why things happened when and where they did.  By contrast, The Neanderthal Man feels like a first draft.  At the beginning of the film, we're dealing with the saber-toothed tigers that Groves has been creating by injecting cats with his de-evolution serum.  We hear about these slaughtering game and livestock, and it seems like only a matter of time before they move on to human beings.  The beginning of the film is quite upfront about the fact that Groves is responsible, too, as it is only mildly mysterious in its depiction of one of the creatures escaping his lab.

Sometimes the saber-tooths are represented by an actual tiger, usually filmed from behind or at a great distance so nobody has to put the prosthetic teeth on it.  They do have prosthetic teeth, but they're only visible in a couple of shots. Imagine being at a bar and some guy tells you his job is sticking fake fangs on real tigers for a caveman movie!  For close-ups, there's a hilarious puppet head that looks like the sort of thing you'd see mounted on a frat house wall as a joke.  The director had the sense not to linger on this in motion shots, but later we see still photographs Groves has supposedly taken of his experimental subjects and they're even stupider-looking than we imagined.

Anyway, this goes on for a while with rising action, as the game warden goes to get Harkness and they manage to shoot one of the animals, only to have it vanish from the kill site when they try to show it to Groves (the movie never bothers to explain how that happened, incidentally. The ending suggests that the creatures change back when they die, but there's definitely no dead kitty cat at the scene, either).  The whole movie could easily have just had the cats and their creator as the antagonists, perhaps even ending the same way as Dr. Groves proves his work to the other characters by injecting himself. That's not what happens, though.  Instead, the story mostly forgets about the cats one we find out Groves has also been carrying on human experiments.

(Before himself, Groves' first experimental subject was his disabled Latina housekeeper.  Another series of photos show her half-transformed into a cavewoman who for some reason is wearing drag queen false eyelashes.  And as long as I'm talking about the movie being gross and bigoted, there's a bit where a woman is violently raped.  This happens off camera, but the audience is not allowed to entertain any illusions about it.)

The problem is that before we see him give himself an injection in the arm, we have had absolutely no indication that Groves has been giving his serum to anything besides the cats! Cats are stealthy, cryptic creatures and if one of those has been seen wandering around killing things, then surely a full-on caveman beating people to death would not be able to stay out of sight!  If what we were seeing were the first time Groves had tried the formula on himself then that would be an explanation, but his notes reveal that he's been doing it for so long that he's on the verge of losing control of the transformation and permanently reverting to a pre-human status, as indeed he does for the climax.  Much like the stupid dinosaur in The Beast of Hollow Mountain, the movie's main monster is given no build-up whatsoever!

There's worse yet, though.  The main characters, Dr. Harkness and Groves' daughter Jan, are barely involved in the 'caveman' part of the plot. They get phone calls about the various murders that Groves is committing in caveman form, and they snoop around the lab to figure out things the audience already knows.  The same story could have been told without them, perhaps with the game warden and the hunter as protagonists, and it would probably have been more interesting. The script also repeatedly has Dr. Groves wander in and bluster about how the tiger sightings are hallucinations and tall tales, which seems a little unnecessary when we already know he's responsible. The film-makers can't seem to decide whether they want us to know that or not.

Dr. Groves wears glasses.  Maybe the reason his primitive alter-ego is angry and breaking shit (although it does politely open and close the window it climbs out of, which made me laugh) is because it can't see. This is also my theory about why the Hulk smashes, and what do you know?  In Avengers Endgame he's got Hulk-sized spectacles and only smashes when he's told!

The direction of The Neanderthal Man can probably best be described as 'serviceable'.  It shows us what's going on, but doesn't particularly add anything to the proceedings.  The 'Neanderthal' mask is immobile and uninteresting, not much better than somebody's Party City Sasquatch costume.  Even the eyes are just painted on, meaning the poor guy in the costume can’t do much because he can’t see where he’s going.

The dialogue is often very strange, with characters talking like they're in a Jules Verne novel. If only one person did this, it might seem like a character quirk – it works for Dr. Groves, for example – but it's everybody. Seeing the cat carcass is gone, Harkness declares, “I refuse to believe in the supernatural!  There must be some logical cause and effect to this unholy adventure!”  Groves' fiancee Ruth berates him for ignoring her, saying, “I want you, the man I once knew!  The good companion, the cheerful friend.  I want the happiness we once found in each other.”  It's bizarre to listen to, and often audibly awkward for the actors.

Monster on the Campus was kind of trying to be about how humanity must choose to evolve away from our inner savage, although the finale didn't bear that out.  There's a scene in The Neanderthal Man in which this movie seems to be trying to go in the opposite direction, saying that we were never savage to begin with.  Dr. Groves is speaking to a panel of scientists about the size of the brain in various 'primitive' species of human.  He points out that by the time we reached Homo erectus we were already working with four times the cerebral jelly of a chimpanzee, and argues that our ancestors would have been recognizably human in their behaviour and problem-solving capacity.

(Amusingly, his chart of human evolution includes Piltdown Man, which was proven to be a hoax literally a few months after this movie's release.  What makes this even more tragic for the writers is that their list of primitive humans seems to be the only place where they actually did any research.)

The problem with Dr. Groves' theory is that he already knows it's wrong. We soon learn that he's been experimenting on himself with his serum for a while already, and his notes show that he knows very well he regresses into a near-mindless animal.  The movie does not even try to reconcile these ideas.  If Groves were continuing his experiments in the hope that perfecting his serum would give him a more accurate reconstruction of ancient man, that would be one thing, but the script never goes there.

So now that we've had two 'man turns into caveman by injecting science juice' movies, of course I have to ask which one is better.  Monster on the Campus wasn't a good movie but it was definitely an improvement on The Neanderthal Man in several respects, and although I don't have any way to find out for certain, I suspect it was an intentional remake.  It's definitely more entertaining and gets bonus points for including the Meganeura dragonfly, but nothing in it is nearly as funny as The Neanderthal Man's fake tiger head.  I guess if you're gonna watch one or the other, stick to Monster on the Campus, but if you're gonna watch both, start with The Neanderthal Man and do them in chronological order, the better to spot the inspirations and references.

Before I go, a fun paleontology fact: current thinking is that the saber-toothed cat's eponymous fangs actually didn't show when it had its mouth closed!  There are zero cave paintings or ancient sculptures of a saber-tooth cat with teeth visible, and when scientists looked at the structure of the enamel in the canines, it suggested that in life the teeth were hidden by big, fleshy, St Bernard jowls.  Google 'smilodon lips' and behold how this looks fully three hundred percent more ridiculous than you're imagining.  I love nature.

[zozee122-2]

The War Ends at Dusk: Chapter 1

It has been six years since the prologue. Blake and Yang moved into a home Taiyang and Yang built on Patch. Blake and Yang traveled Remnant after defeating Salem and got married two years after the war ended. After their marriage they decided to settle down and start a family. Blake works as a part time huntress and has worked to reform the white fang that she and Sun are a part of. Yang is also a part time huntress and in her free time helps people in the community (doing odd jobs and such) and has a garden. Dusk goes to school and loves his mothers very much and has a great relationship with his Aunts Ruby and Weiss. Ruby is still working to end the experimentation on silver eyed people. This is where the story begins.WC: 5,019

She ran until her lungs were screaming in pain, not like she was able to run before. Her red cat tail flicked anxiously as she slowed to a walk. She took several deep breaths and turned in the direction she came from. She closed her eyes and strained to listen; she could not hear any running footsteps. Perhaps they gave up. There were probably 50 more people who were more important than her, they could stand to lose one, she thought. The young girl decided to rest, a bit further from her, the girl could see tall blades of grass she decided that it would be a perfect spot to hide from any trackers that may have been following her. Her feet ached and her growling stomach pushed her to find some area to rest in. But then again, she thought, anywhere would be better than a cage.

…

“My, oh my, don’t you look lovely today!” Yang whispered, “Nice and plump. Ready to eat!” Yang smiled happily and got down on her knees. Nothing wrong with getting a little dirty, she thought as she reached to grab fresh cucumbers. “That should do nicely for lunch.” She said standing back up. Yang stood and wiped some sweat off her brow, she looked across her garden to the thick forestry area that surrounded her and Blake’s house. Blake had feared that predators would come to try to come to raid their garden or at the worst come and hurt Dusk. Yang had reassured her that no predator would come so close to a house, and thanks to a huntsman academy being nearby, Grimm would not be in so heavily populous. Though, Yang and Blake kept it in the back of their mind that perhaps one day they would have to protect their son and their home, but that day has yet to come. Though with that last thought Yang turned quickly at the sound of rustling.

“Seriously?” she whispered, “Is anyone there?” Yang put the cucumbers in her gardening basket and made her way through their lush garden, she cursed herself for not leaving a weapon feature on her prosthetic, but Blake encouraged that she had one without it for home life.

“Hello?” she said once she got to an area with tall grass, a part of land she and Blake did not own. Suddenly a long crimson cat tail peaked out of the grass and more sounds of scurrying.

Yang gasped, “Hey, wait where are you going?” she took longer steps with more confidence knowing that it wasn’t an animal. The scurrying stopped and Yang lowered down to a crouch. She moved some grass out of the way and her eyes widened as to what she saw. A little girl with hair red as the rising sun, a horribly thin body, clothed in dirty rags, scratches, but the most defining feature was the girls large round silver eyes. The girl stood quickly and turned to run but tripped over her own feet. Yang quickly rushed to the girl’s side.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” Yang asked reaching her hand out. Yang couldn’t help but notice the girl’s cuts on her face and arms as the girl reached a protective hand out in front of her. “It’s okay. My name is Yang, would you like some help? I promise I will never hurt you.” The girl flicked her cat tail in contemplation.

“Are you hungry? My wife just made lunch back at our house,” she said pointing towards the house. The girl followed her finger and made a thoughtful face. Yang turned back to face the girl, smiling sweetly. The girl studied Yang’s face, noticing a small scar across her lip, plenty of freckles, laugh lines, and the kindest eyes the girl has ever seen. The girl decided that this woman was speaking true, so she reached out her hand to Yang’s. Yang took the small girl’s hand and made their way back to the house. After passing the grassy field, Yang took a second look at the girl. She couldn’t be any older than Dusk, but she was probably half his size, her small body was covered in bruises and dirt, and her hair reached her low back in tendrils. Yang did not want to think about where this girl could have come from, her mind feared the worse. She needed to call Ruby.

…

“Mommy, when is Momma coming back with the cucumbers? I am hungry” Dusk pleaded swinging his legs from his chair, patiently as much as a six-year-old could for his lunch. Blake turned from her place at the counter where she was mixing tuna salad to look out the kitchen window.

“I am not sure, cub. Maybe she is having trouble finding the perfect cucumbers for us.” Blake responded reassuringly. Dusk huffed at her response, even though he was more patient than any other kid she met, he was still a kid. She came over to him and rubbed a spot between his cat ears. “Sorry, love. Want to go and check on her with me?” she asked planting a kiss between his ears. Dusk’s ears flicked in excitement.

“Yeah!”

Before Dusk could get out of his chair, Yang opened the front door. Blake and Dusk’s ears perked at the sudden noise and turned, “Momma! Did you pick good cucumbers for us?” Dusk stood on his chair, but quickly turned to Blake upon seeing the unfamiliar person next to his mother. “Mommy, who is that girl?” Dusk asked grabbing hold of Blake’s t-shirt. Blake took his hand and stood before her son.

“Yang?” Blake asked giving her wife a questioning look.

The girl hid behind Yang’s leg. “Um, I found her in the grass field, just pass the cucumbers, and yes, dragon cub I picked some cucumbers. Though, I’ll have to retrieve the basket, I dropped it on our way here.”

Dusk nodded, happy with his mother’s answer, while Blake stood idly by still staring questioningly at her wife.

“Do you want a tuna fish sandwich? Mommy makes the best tuna fish sandwiches, and Momma puts in the secret ingredient in! Cucumbers!” Dusk jumped down from his seat to get a better look at the girl, his cheeks turning red from heat. The girl came out from behind Yang’s leg and nodded to Dusk.

Dusk laughed and ran a hand through his long, wavy hair. “Come on you can sit by me!” quickly he ducked around Yang’s legs and took the girl’s hand. Dusk pulled the girl to the seat next to his. He clambered up to his seat and watched her climb into hers. Blake and Yang stared at their son and the peculiar little girl who smiled at Dusk warmly. Satisfied that her son was not going to be hurt by the mysterious little girl, Blake shot Yang an alarmingly stern look. Yang got the message and quickly made her way to Blake’s side. The pair walked closer to the kitchen counter tops and whispered in each other’s ears.

“Yang, who is she?” Blake asked first.

Yang rubbed her arm and sighed, “I’m not sure, Sunflower.” Yang looked behind her shoulder to look at the two children. Dusk was regaling the girl with probably some fantastical story of his own creation. Yang smiled and turned back to Blake. Blake peered into Yang’s eyes, “You noticed her eyes though, right?”

Blake bit her lower lip and ran a hand through her inky, black hair. “They are not easy to miss.” Blake sighed, “And look at how beat up she is, did you notice the wound on her ankle?”

Yang turned again to face the kids, the table opposite the counter tops. The kids were still entertaining each other, well mostly Dusk was entertaining her. Yang looked the girl up and down again. Seeing the girl’s ankle, a circular wound made its mark on the small girl. Yang let out an audible gasp. Her mind ran rampant, fearing the worse was true; the girl had escaped a silver eyed experimentation laboratory. Dusk turned to look at Yang, his ears flicked with surprise at his mother’s gasp.

“Are you okay, Momma? Are you hungry?” Dusk asked sweetly.

Yang smiled at her son; he was so kind. “I’m okay, my sweet dragon cub. I am hungry. Let me finish talking to Mommy, and we can finish making lunch.”

Blake kissed Yang’s cheek, and whispered in her ear “After lunch, I’ll call Weiss, you call Ruby.”

Yang glanced at her and nodded, “Alright, kiddos let me grab those cucumbers and we can have lunch.”

Yang walked out of the front door and Blake turned to fill up some glasses with lemonade. Blake sighed, a part of her did not want to meddle in the girl’s affairs, but Blake couldn’t bear to send the poor girl away. She couldn’t imagine what the poor thing went through, and she was a faunas. Blake felt conflicted as she sat down across from the girl, her little body shuddering, her cheeks hollow from hunger. The girl looked up at Blake, her large silver eyes looking up at Blake’s tall cat ears.

“Mommy, we are all cat faunaes. Isn’t that neat?” Dusk chuckled his cheeks glowing red

Blake nodded, “Fauna, and that is a coincidence isn’t it Dusk?” Blake leaned forward on her arm. Dusk nodded and took sip from his cup. The girl watched him gulp and she looked at her own cup pensively. Dusk looked at her.

“Have you ever had lemonade before? It’s my favorite drink, and it’s yellow my favorite color!” Dusk asked licking his lips from the tart liquid.

The girl shook her head which made Dusk frown, “That’s not right,” he said shaking his head his floppy hair flowing with it, “Go ahead, take a drink. I promise it is delicious. That’s a Xiao Long-Belladonna promise” he crossed his pointer finger over his heart. Blake smiled thinking he must have seen it on a movie, or something he saw Yang do. The girl smiled and took the cup in both of her hands. She brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip. Blake did not think her eyes could get any wider, she took a bigger sip and soon the drink was gone.

Dusk smiled and did the same thing.

Yang walked back in through the front door, “Alrighty who is hungry?” she gallantly walked in eyeing the trio at the table. “Drinking all of my lemonade, are we?”

Dusk laughed, “No, we saved you some. Right, Mommy?”

Yang passed by Dusk and tussled his hair as he giggled, “Well, I appreciate that, Dusk.”

Blake got up from her seat and took the basket of cucumbers from Yang. Blake kissed Yang, then bent down to smooth Dusk’s hair and kiss him atop his head.

“Thank you, Sunshine, these look lovely.” Blake moved from the pair to the sink to wash the vegetables to cut and put in their tuna fish lunch.

Yang blushed and sat at her seat across from Dusk. “Ahh, I have been thinking about these sandwiches all day. Perfect lunch for summer, right guys?” she asked taking a slow sip from her glass.

Blake hummed and began chopping up the vegetables and finished making the sandwiches. She plated them and put them in front of each person.

“Thank you, Momma and Mommy! Camille and I are super hungry.”

Yang and Blake stopped midbite to look at their son as the kids began eating their sandwiches quickly.

“Camille?” Yang asked looking to Blake then to Dusk.

Dusk looked at his mothers like they were the ones who were not in the know, his eyebrow raised out of sight. “Uh, yeah. That is her name she told me.”

Blake and Yang glanced at each other as if to say, ‘I haven’t heard her speak at all, have you?’

“Cub, when did,” Blake took a slight pause and looked at the girl who was staring at her feet, “Camille tell you this?”

Dusk took another bite of his sandwich and swallowed quickly, “She didn’t tell me, like talking. Camille told me in my mind.”

Blake and Yang raised their eyebrows and looked at each other again in shock.

Dusk looked between his mothers and became flustered. “I am telling the truth, Mommy, Momma. I swear.” He pleaded, his ears lowering to his head.

Blake turned to him, “Of course we believe you, Dusk.” Blake reassured him reaching for his hand. Dusk’s ear perked up again and took Blake’s hand in his. Blake gave it a small squeeze.

“Camille, can you talk to people in your mind?” Yang asked looking towards the girl.

Camille raised her eyes to Yang’s and nodded so hard Yang thought her head would pop off.

‘I can, Mrs. Xiao-Long Belladonna’ Camille shot to Yang.

Yang gasped and stood up.

“Yang?” Blake took her wife’s hand.

‘She’s okay, Mrs. Blake’ Camille shot to Blake.

Blake pulled Yang down back to her seat and quickly whispered, “We need to call them now.”

Yang nodded in agreement, “Dusk, Camille, can you finish your sandwiches here? Dusk when you both are finished, take your plate and Camille’s to the sink, please.”

Dusk took a bite and gave Yang a thumbs up.

Yang and Blake went to the living room and picked up both of their scrolls.

“Would she unlock her semblance at that young of an age? She is probably Dusk’s age.” Blake asked Yang dialing Weiss’ number.

Yang breathed in, “I don’t know, Blake. I didn’t unlock my semblance until I was eleven, but I was a late bloomer. Ruby unlocked hers early, but she was like eight.” Yang hit Ruby’s name in her contacts.

Blake nodded, “I unlocked my aura early, but I didn’t use my semblance until I was 14 or so.”

Weiss answered first. “Blake? Hi! How are you? How’s Yang and Dusk?”

Blake ran a hand through her hair, “Weiss, we are fine. Yang found a little girl today. She has silver eyes and a wound on her ankle. It looks like it’s from a chain.” Blake heard Weiss curse silently. Blake knew she had a lot on her plate already and she can see Weiss clutch her eyebrows.

“Hmm, well Ruby or I haven’t heard anything about a lab being in Patch, but she might have come from a group of escapees.” Weiss sighed again and Blake heard her tapping on her computer quickly. “I can come tomorrow, since it is Saturday, and I am free. Ruby and Jaune are still on a mission in Northern Vale. I am not sure when they can come and investigate. However, I will come tomorrow. Does she need clothes, do you need anything for her?”

Blake looked toward the table, they had both finished their sandwiches and Dusk was showing her his missing front tooth.

“Yes, some clothes please. She is not quite Dusk’s size, but is close enough, or will hopefully grow into them.” She heard Weiss mutter something to herself, “Weiss, there is one more thing. She has already unlocked her semblance and she can’t be older than Dusk.”

“What? Really?” Weiss sounded shocked, but in fairness they all were. “It’s not uncommon, but that is incredibly rare. There must have been some type of trauma that allowed her to unlock it so early, but that would make sense if we are right if she came from a lab.”

Blake sighed, she couldn’t imagine what Camille had gone through. “Yes, I wondered that. Thank you, Weiss we really appreciate it.”

“Well, you’re welcome, it is my job after all, and I don’t need an excuse to see my favorite boy.”

Want to talk to him?” Blake turned to Dusk and gestured for him to come.

“Is that even a question? Put my nephew on the phone!”

Dusk climbed out of his seat and Camille followed him.

“Is that Aunty Weiss, Mommy?” Dusk asked coming up to Blake’s leg.

Blake nodded and handed him the scroll. He took it in his little hands and his cheeks glowed with excitement.

“Camille, talk to Aunty Weiss with me!” he turned to her, his smile beaming. “Hi, Aunty Weiss! Me and Camille are here.”

Blake could here Weiss coddle him through the call as she walked over to Yang.

…

“Hey, Yang doing alright? You’re lucky you called now, Jaune and I are taking a break.” Ruby said through the scroll.

“Heya, sis. Yes, we are doing fine. Though, I need to tell you something important.”

Ruby could hear the urgency in Yang’s voice, “What is it, Yang?”

Yang took a deep breath. “Ruby, I found a girl with silver eyes in the forest today. She looks like she escaped from a lab. She has a mark from a chain.”

Ruby stayed quiet on the other line for a minute, then sighed “Shit, I thought Patch was free. I didn’t think there would be enough silver eyed people to form a lab there. For all I knew Mom and I were the only ones there. But I can come and investigate later this month. Probably in a couple of weeks. I can’t leave this mission on Jaune’s hands. Is there anything else about her?”

Yang bit her lip, “Well, she told Dusk her name is Camille by telling him through her semblance, telekinesis like Fox’s.”

“Semblance? Already? I mean, some people unlock their semblance through trauma. I would say for now not to discuss it with her. Focus on making her comfortable with you all. It might have been a way to communicate with the other captives, a traumatic thing.” Ruby concluded, and Yang heard the wisdom in her sister’s voice, “Sounds good, Ruby. Blake, Dusk, and I will take good care of her.”

Ruby laughed, “I am sure you will. Dusk is an excellent host. Sorry, Yang, I must go now. I love you all and will talk to you again as soon as I am able.”

“Love you too, sis. Stay safe. Tell Jaune, hi for us.”

“Course, Yang. Talk soon.”

Yang sighed as she put her phone back in her pocket. She rubbed her eyes and looked back to Blake who was motioning for Dusk.

…

“Hmm, well at least Weiss can come tomorrow. For now, let’s just make sure she’s comfortable. Maybe a bath and bandage for her ankle.” Blake sighed leaning into Yang’s arms. Yang kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly. Yang looked past Blake’s shoulder to see Dusk still on the phone with Weiss. He and Camille were both sitting on the couch, Dusk’s legs kicking above the floor while Camille leaned sleepily on the cushions.

Yang squeezed Blake’s arm lovingly, “Sunflower, we should discuss sometime what we should do for her.”

Blake nodded and looked up to Yang, “I know, though I think we should wait to hear what Weiss says. For now, let’s just let her stay in the guest room. Dusk seems to be quite taken to her as well.”

“I agree, at least for now,” Yang said, though Blake could tell what her wife was thinking. They have been talking about having a second child.

“Can you clean up lunch? I’ll draw a bath for Camille and ready the guest room for her.”

“Yes, of course. I bought new bubble bath soap for Dusk the other day. I think it’s lemon scented.” Yang said and kissed Blake lovingly.

“His favorite.” Blake smiled.

Yang chuckled and turned to the living room, “Kids, I think it’s time to say goodbye to Aunty Weiss. She will be here tomorrow for a visit.”

Dusk shot up from his seat making Camille flinch, “Really? Aunty Weiss you did not tell me.” He said and stomped his foot angrily.

“Dusk, is that anyway to talk to somebody? And apologize to Camille, please you scared her.”

Dusk’s ears lowered, “I’m sorry for scaring you, Camille, and I’m sorry for yelling at you Aunty.”

Yang came up to Dusk and patted his back, “Good job apologizing, Dusk thank you.”

Dusk smiled up to her, “Okay, Aunty Weiss, I have to go now, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait, Dusky boy. I love you. Can you hand the phone back to your Mommy?”

Blake came to Dusk’s side, and he handed her back the scroll. Yang passed them to work on cleaning up.

“So, I can be there tomorrow around 10:30. Is that okay with you, Blake?” Weiss asked.

Blake sat on the couch next to Dusk, “Yes, that should work. We will see you tomorrow, Weiss. Bye-bye.”

“Bye, Blake.” Weiss ended.

Blake looked to Camille, who seemed to have calmed down from her scare. “Camille, how does a bubble bath sound?”

Dusk looked at Camille waiting for her answer.

A soft voice answered, “What is that?”

Dusk was quick to answer while Blake was still contemplating on how Camille has probably never been cleaned with a bath before.

“Well, you’re in a tub of warm water, and bubbly bubbles that make you smell really good. You take a bath because you need to get clean.” Dusk rambled on quickly, “I take a bubble bath almost every night. Mommy and Momma help me get clean and Momma tells me huntress stories. Then you get in your pajamas and go to sleep. It is the best feeling ever.” Dusk finished and began to run up the stairs.

“Cub, where are you going?” Blake called.

“I’m picking out pajamas for Camille! A bath is not complete without pajamas!”

Blake smiled at her son’s generosity then turned back to Camille.

“Well? Camille, would you like a bath?” Blake asked.

Camille looked to where Dusk had gone and to Blake. Blake could almost see the girls thought process.

“Yes. Sounds good.” She replied taking Blake’s hand.

Camille and Blake walked up the stairs and Blake checked quickly in Dusk’s room. He was rifling through his drawers.

“You will put all of those things away, right, Dusk?” she asked, motherly tone activated.

Dusk turned sheepishly around, “Yes, Mommy.”

Blake smiled, “Thank you, Cub.”

Blake led Camille to the bathroom, “May I pick you up?” Blake asked the small girl.

Camille looked to Blake with her big, silver eyes. “Yes.”

Blake lifted Camille and took note as to how much of a difference Dusk and Camille weighed. Blake set her down on the bathroom countertop. “Let’s see here. I am going to clean your wounds first, okay?”

Camille nodded.

Blake bent down to take the first aid kit out from the bathroom cabinet. She disinfected the harsh wound on Camille’s ankle which earned a couple of hisses. Blake calmly soothed her, “It is okay, little one, I know it stings.” Blake then moved up to her arms and face quickly working. After she was done, she heard a small knock. “Mommy, Camille? May I come in?”

“Yes, Dusk come in.” Blake replied putting the first aid kit back.

Dusk opened the door and presented pajamas to Camille.

“Here, Camille. I got too big for these ones, so you can have them. Aunty Weiss gave them to me, and they are super soft.” Dusk handed Camille the light blue set of pajamas with little snowflakes adorning them. Camille smiled at him shaking her tail happily as she took them.

“Thank you, Dusk.” Camille said clutching the gift to her chest. Dusk beamed from ear to ear, his cheeks turning red.

“You are very welcome,” he said balancing on the balls of his feet, “Can I go watch TV now, Mommy?”

Blake kissed his cheek, “Yes, sweetheart.”

Dusk clapped his hands together, “Camille when you are done come watch TV with me! We can watch HuntsMan and Super Zwei!”

Camille nodded and smiled.

After Dusk left the room, Blake filled the bath with warm water and made sure to add plenty of soap. She took out a fresh towel and a washcloth from the cupboard and helped Camille get into the tub. Camille squirmed around at first, her body getting used to the new sensation, but eventually succumbed to the warm water and the gentle scent of lemons. Blake was gentle to scrub her small body and to mind all of the scratches on Camille’s body.

“Camille,” Blake eventually asked, “Where did you come from?”

Camille’s body tensed and she huddled her knees close to her small frame, her body instinctively turning away from Blake’s gentle touch.

“Bad place. Scary place.” She whispered.

Blake reached out her hand and touched Camille’s head. Camille flinched at first but calmed as she felt Blake’s hand stroke her hair.

“Camille, Yang and I promise that nothing bad will ever happen to you again. We will do everything we can to protect you.” Blake said defiantly, surprised at her own words for a moment but her motherly, protective instinct got the better of her.

Camille turned, eyes moist with tears, “Thank you.” She replied.

Blake finished giving Camille a thorough bath and helped her change into her new pajamas which were a tad bit big for her, but Camille did not seem to mind. Blake towel dried Camille’s hair and grabbed a brush.

“Let’s go downstairs. You can watch TV with Dusk while I brush your hair.”

Camille nodded and followed Blake downstairs.

Dusk and Yang were sitting on the couch both sets of eyes glued to the screen as HuntsMan was facing off with his toughest emissary.

“Make some room, you, guys.” Blake said leading Camille to the couch.

Yang scooted over and brought Dusk with her to sit in her lap.

“Wow, those pajamas look great on you, kiddo.” Yang said.

Dusk turned his head from the TV, “Yeah! I knew they would look good on Camille!”

Blake sat down next to Yang and motioned for Camille to sit in between her legs.

Camille looked curiously at Blake for a moment but sat.

Blake began to brush through knots as gently as she could, but Camille’s hair had probably never seen a brush.

“This might hurt a bit, sorry.” Blake said gently combing through Camille’s hair.

“It’s okay.” Camille replied.

Yang looked at Blake, she hadn’t heard her speak yet. Blake shrugged and gave Yang a knowing look.

After Blake finished brushing her hair, Camille joined the three of them on the couch perching herself next to a throw pillow, her eyes heavy.

Blake saw this and asked, “Would you like to go to bed, Camille? I bet you have had a long day.”

Camille nodded sleepily. “Okay, I’ll go set up the guest room for you. Yang, I’ll call when it is ready for her.”

Blake walked up the stairs but was stopped by Dusk pulling her shirt. “Wait, Mommy. I’ll help too.”

Blake smiled, “Of course, Cub.”

Dusk passed her on the stairs and went to his room, “I have something for Camille to help her sleep.”

Blake followed him, and to her surprise Dusk had put away all of the clothes he had previously tossed out. “Oh, yeah? What is it?”

Dusk rummaged around his toy bin for a moment and pulled something out. It was a crimson-colored stuffed cat. “This! I don’t play with it anymore, and Camille does not have any stuffed animals. I have my dragon, so Camille can have this one to sleep with.” He said showing off the toy like a trophy.

“Oh, Dusk. Have I ever told you that you are the world’s sweetest boy?” Blake asked bending down to give him a hug.

Dusk giggled as he reached his hand up to her bobbed hair, something he has done since a baby, “Hmm, maybe once or twice.”

Blake scooped him up as she stood, “Hah, and I see you inherited all of my charm and sass too.” She said lovingly bumping her head with his. Dusk smiled again and hugged her tighter pressing the side of his face on hers.

“Okay, my Cub, let’s set up the room for Camille.”

“Yang? We are ready!” Blake called from upstairs.

Yang stood up and stretched, her prosthetic humming slightly, “Okay, love we will be up shortly.”

Camille had a hard time trying to stay awake but perked up at Blake’s call.

“Would you like me to carry you?” Yang asked turning towards her.

Camille looked at the kind lilac eyes, “Yes.” She replied raising her arms up. Yang smiled and took her up to her body. ‘So light’ she thought and walked up the stairs to the guest room. Blake was sitting on the bed and Dusk was holding something behind his back. Blake stood to pull back the covers as Yang placed the small girl in. Yang pulled the covers up to Camille’s chin and the small girl settled deep within the soft bed.

“Wait,” Dusk appeared between Blake and Yang, “I have something for you, Camille. To help you sleep and it will protect you from bad dreams.” Blake picked him up and placed him on the high bed. He pulled his hands from behind his back and presented Camille with the stuffed cat. “See? She looks just like you.” Dusk said handing the present to Camille. Blake rubbed the small of Yang’s back as the mothers looked proudly on at the sight.

Camille took the toy from Dusk and hugged it to her chest. Dusk smiled and slinked off the bed.

“I knew you would like it,” Dusk said raising his arms proudly.

Camille smiled at him, “I love her. Thank you Dusk.”

Dusk smiled and giggled.

“Okay, Dusk. I think it is time to let Camille rest, she is very tired.” Yang said placing a hand on his shoulder.

Dusk looked up at Yang and then to Blake, “Okay, Momma. I’m going to go play on my tire swing outside.”

Blake nodded and let Dusk slip pass them.

“Camille,” Blake said quietly, “Yang and I will be downstairs if you need anything, alright?”

Camille nodded her eyes finally giving away to exhaustion.

“Sleep well, Camille.” Yang said as she and the love of her life left Camille’s room.

[boop-le-snoot]

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Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[elcuervoborracho]

Ironwood as a Foil to Yang

A RWBY post. There’s this thing that’s been bugging me for a long time now:

Why did Ironwood personally request a prosthetic arm for Yang?  He didn’t even know her that well, among hundreds of students. At face value it makes no sense.

I think Ironwood must see some of himself in her. When it comes to heroes and villains, they’re very often thematically mirrored and linked.

Before I go into that, I’ll go dive a bit into Ironwood, and how he made terrible choice after terrible choice:

He’s been slowly occupying Vale, sending his troops in, selling robot soldiers in Vale territory.

He likely had Penny compete in the Vytal Festival so that when she won, Ozpin would hand her the Maiden powers, thus giving Atlas even more power. EDIT: (He's the one responsible for the aura transfer machine. He knows Ozpin is looking for a new maiden, and Pyrrha was chosen because she's the strongest Beacon student. Why else would Penny be in Vale competing in the festival, when she's from Atlas, doesn’t need to study, and Ironwood didn’t even tell Ozpin she’s a robot? Is it any surpsise that when Penny gets the winter maiden powers, Ironwood tries to have her hacked?) This makes it a literal attempt at using Penny as a Skynet Terminator, an infiltration unit with living tissue over a metal endoskeleton

He’s corrupt, holding two seats in the Atlas Council (Same council that made him responsible for the Vytal festival security)

This is just by Volume 3, the show made it painfully obvious he as never fit to lead, and is in fact a villain. Always was. It’s important to remember that throughout all of this, Ironwood doesn’t just feel justified, he feels like he’s a hero for doing it. Like he’s somehow protecting Atlas by doing all of this. This will be important later

What does this man--who made himself responsible for the festival’s security--see in Yang, the girl that as far as he knows, is just some girl that went ballistic after winning a match?

Up until this point there isn’t much to see. The most he knows is that her team was involved in Mountain Glenn and the Torchwick Paladin fight. Is it really enough reason for The Atlas General to personally request a high end prosthetic? not really.

The next part will be a little bit of a tangent, but It’l be worth it later. It’s about Semblances.

Ruby says there’s no way to know how to unlock a Semblance, but we see in the show that semblances aren’t just tied to the person, but also to the event that awakens them, like classic superpowers. And like those, they’re not just whatever, tacked on because it’s cool. If you’ve ever watched X-men evolution, Rogue’s powers are just a metaphor for intimacy. The same kind of applies to RWBY.

For example: Jaune’s Semblance is a reflection of himself. His worth is entirely connected to what he can give other people, so his semblance reflects that, and the situation it awakened in reflects that. This pattern continues with other characters. Cinder’s Semblance is the power to destroy anything she can touch, and re-create it to whatever she wants. This relates so obviously to her backstory it would be redundant to waste words there. I’ll go in-depth on semblances and how they affect other characters in another post. Maybe.

I believe Ironwood’s semblance reflects the situation that unlocked it. It basically lets him take decisions without second-guessing himself. To me this implies somewhere in his past Ironwood either failed to take an important decision, or took such a terrible decision that he awakened his semblance. Likely the same situation that cost him a limb, but not necessarily it

Losing a limb is a big deal. some people take it better than others, and while I don’t think RWBY handled Yang’s amputation that well, I do think the idea behind it is important, she was traumatized and living in pain. There’s a good chance that ironwood didn’t lose half his body at once. Even in in the world of Remnant, it’d be hard to survive that. We all know he likely lost limbs gradually, like the Tin Woodsman. Couldn’t have been nice, to say the least, and he still uses the excuse of Phantom pain to Glynda in V2, so I think it’s safe to say he likely has some of that trauma. This is something they both share too.

Recklessness is also a trait they both have, but throughout the series Yang learns to temper hers and think twice before making decisions, something Ironwood never did. He can’t, his Semblance is not thinking twice!

They’re also both very good close range fighters, When fighting Watts Ironwood even uses boxing techniques just like Yang, bobbing and weaving under attacks, delivering a flurry of hooks. He clearly prefers it too, given how most of the fight is Watts running away from him.

(As an addendum, they tend to rarely use their ranged weapons unless it’s so they can propel themselves forward, into melee range, but this is less of point because it’s a somewhat common strategy in RWBY, Ruby uses it , Nora uses it in a different way, so it’s not something exclusive to them.)

Then where does the foil part come in?

So here’s this promising, heroic Huntress. She’s a part of the team that fought against Roman and his goons multiple times, a great fighter who’s a bit of a hothead, but has a heart of gold, and in the heat of the moment took a snap decision after a match was over and hurt someone. She loses her right arm fighting a white fang leader, and after the fall of Beacon, they found out she was right, and that “student” she hurt was an infiltrator who’s directly responsible for the events that lead up to the fall. Maybe after that they find out she lost a limb while protecting Blake, not just while fighting.

Yang’s heroic sacrifices are how he sees his actions, and while it’s far, far from reality, after seeing that, how could he not send her that prosthesis? It would be like not sending one to himself when he was hurt the first time.

Or maybe not. Maybe Miles and Kerry just did their thing, and I simply stared at the inkblots long enough to see a butterfly. 

Either way, this is fun to think about, and I it may be worth sharing the thought.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

I really don't get the complaint about Ironwood. His descent into a villain honestly made perfect sense.

Okay, look. Before I begin, let’s just get one thing straight. The way I view Ironwood is mainly my opinion, and it is not an objective fact. Love or hate him, I hope we can all have an intelligent and rational discussion on the way General Ironwood was portrayed, okay? Okay.

My problem isn’t necessarily how Ironwood became a villain in Volume 7, but rather, how he acted as villain in Volume 8, and what the story was trying to say about him and his actions. Buckle up first, there’s some infodumping to be done before we get there.

Now, for those who haven’t seen RWBY (and be warned, spoilers are obviously ahead), General James Ironwood was a supporting character introduced during the show’s second “Volume”. He was in charge of all the military forces of Atlas, the most militaristic of the four main kingdoms in the world of the show.

He had a bit of a bad reputation in universe for bringing a lot of his troops to Beacon Academy (where the first three Volumes took place) for a fighting torunament to serve as security. Long story short, thanks to an act of sabotage from the villains, an army of monsters called Grimm and a faction of former equal rights movement turned terrorist organization known as the White Fang attacked Beacon, killing a lot of people and forcing the survivors to retreat.

Ironwood had a handful of scenes in the next Volume, showing his support for one of the main characters, Weiss, and donating a robotic arm to another main character who had lost hers in the Fall of Beacon, Yang. After, that, he was mostly silent until Volume 7, where our heroes made their way to Atlas to deliver one of the four MacGuffins the main villain Salem needs to Ironwood.

We see that since the Fall of Beacon, Ironwood has been stretched thin in protecting Atlas over the run down town directly below it, Mantle. It’s clear that Ironwood can’t really keep up with handling both towns, to the point where not only is Mantle protected by a single robotic supersoldier named Penny, but Ironwood is also diverting supplies meant to fix a wall to keep Grimm out of Mantle in favor of working on converting the same stadium used for the tournament in Volume 3 into a satellite to restore global communication, which had been down since the Fall of Beacon.

The heroes are naturally conflicted about their loyalties to Ironwood, as while he has given them his trust, they don’t really trust him to tell him some of the secrets they learned. Blake and Yang, two of the heroes who have always been more opposed to authority, leak classified information regarding the satellite to the leader of a group of freedom fighters, Robyn Hill (who is actually voiced by Christina Vee), who at this point, was someone Ironwood viewed as a threat. 

Now you could make the argument that these college drop-outs are severely unqualified to handle a tense situation that even a seasoned veteran like Ironwood is struggling with, but the point is when Ironwood finds out, he’s pissed. It’s really not hard to agree with him when you consider everything he’s done for Team RWBY and their friends only to be betrayed like this. So Ironwood declares all of the heroes fugitives and place a warrant for their arrest

At this point in the story, you can understand both sides of the argument regarding how to handle the situation. Ironwood’s anger is very understandable, and while he acts as an antagonist to out heroes, he’s not really a villain.

And that’s when he shoots a fourteen year old child. Granted, he currently had the soul of an old friend of Ironwood in him, but Ironwood literally just tried to murder someone, and almost succeeded.

Volume 7 was very polarizing among RWBY fans for the portrayal of Ironwood. It doesn’t help that when Salem, the main villain of the series, launched an invasion of Atlas, Ironwood’s plan was to launch Atlas and keep Salem from getting the MacGuffin, essentially distancing it from the rest of the world... when Volume 7′s final episode aired in February 2020.

Now, you would think, after being forced to stay in their homes to minimize Covid deaths, the writers would understand what they were antagonizing Ironwood for was basically what every government in the world did a month after they finished work for the Volume, and maybe realize that maybe they shouldn’t portray someone like Ironwood as a complete monster.

Volume 8 opens with him killing a councilman who disagrees with him. And it all goes downhill from there.

This Volume goes out of its way to portray Ironwood as a genuine psychopath, mainly to stop the people who agreed with him over Team RWBY from supporting him. He does things like working with one of the villains to achieve his goal, gives his soldiers permission to torture people for information, and after Salem is neutralized temporarily, rather than continue to evacuate Mantle like he had originally planned before the villains and Team RWBY screwed up his plans, he decides threatening to bomb Mantle to use as leverage is a better idea.

And then there’s the whole idea the the writers want to treat Ironwood losing his arm in a fight and replacing it with a robotic one like Yang as a symbol of him “losing his humanity”. It’s... kind of insulting when you realize that Ironwood is a man suffering from PTSD, and the show is basically demonizing anyone who uses prosthetics in their daily lives, or is traumatized from war.

I’m not saying Ironwood is just like Chloe, but the way both narratives choose to demonize both characters to spite their fans is why I draw the similarities in the first place.

There’s also the fact that the writers claim Ironwood is acting this way because of his Semblance (they’re basically Quirks from My Hero Academia) giving him an iron will that won’t make him change his mind on his decisions... when it’s never addressed in the show, is only mentioned at a fan panel, and not even Ironwood’s voice actor knew about this until a fan told him. It’s a stupid way to handwave away the criticisms that Ironwood is acting out of character, and is universally considered by fans to be the dumbest Semblance in the show.

But overall, the point I am trying to make is that instead of portraying him as this morally grey villain who merely opposes the heroes because he has a different way of solving problems, the writers decide that isn’t a good thing, so they demonize him just to make Team RWBY and the heroes (who many have claimed do a lot of bad things this Volume) look better by comparison.

I’m sorry if you disagree with me, but I just want to understand that I am not trying to attack anyone who hates Ironwood. Like Adrien, I don’t hate the character entirely, I just don’t like the way he is handled, and simply prefer his fanon self over what we got in canon.

[sssn-neptune-vasilias]

RWBY vs Comic

Alright, I said I was gonna do this back when the comic first started getting published but I got so frustrated reading it that I couldn’t actually keep up with it enough go through with it. I think I stopped around issue 4 because that was when I just got angry and threw my comic back into the plastic. I figure now’s as good a time as any since I’m actually rereading it now. My whole issue with the RWBY DC comics is that they’re super canon divergent but somehow still canon material. It’s so frustrating that this is the case because we’re supposed to take into account things that happen in the comic as gospel- things like Adam revealing he’d always been genocidal, Bumbleby’s bottlecap, Weiss’ zoo animal arc, etc, but a lot of these different story arcs don’t make sense in our current canon. So I’m gonna talk about them because why not.

 Issue #1:

The first issue actually isn’t that bad- mostly because it’s just an intro to the series- but there are still some huge inconsistencies between the comic and official canon.

These two panels are a fucking mess.

1) Ruby was passed out when she was delivered to Patch by Qrow. She’d just used her Silver Eyed Warrior powers for the first time, hurt Cinder, frozen the dragon, and passed out. We were literally forced to listen as Qrow carried Ruby out of the rubble and back home, because she was unconscious. But the comic has her just arriving back home all on her own. “I came back to my dad’s house.” No you didn’t, you literally woke up in your bed after what must’ve been days of being unconscious.

2) We know Blake didn’t get to Menagerie on a little wooden boat. We all watched the episode. It was a decent sized ship with multiple crew members, dozens of passengers, and literal armaments designed to destroy Grimm. Sun can’t hide in a robe for 3+ days on this boat. This boat wouldn’t have survived a Grimm attack in the first place. Idk why they decided to draw this boat instead of just drawing the Pride the way it was designed in the first place, but whatever I guess.

RNJR didn’t tell Taiyang they were leaving. Ruby and her team just left. There was a whole scene dedicated to showing the shock and horror on Tai’s face as he saw Ruby’s letter and ran out of the house hoping to catch up to his daughter before she left. Also not as important but still relevant, RNJR left during winter. There was snow on the ground. I don’t see no snow in this panel- that tree looks real green. That last issue is mostly a nitpick- who cares what season they left in tbh. But the fact that they just wrote this panel into the comic despite the fact canon shows Taiyang had no idea of Ruby’s departure- and the fact that Ruby’s departure is actually really important to a bunch of later scenes in this show is really fucking weird.

Issue #2:

I know we know next to nothing about Raven Branwen, but holy fucking shit do I wanna believe this is ridiculously out of character for her. You’re telling me that Raven actually did come visit Yang and Tai and Ruby, but the one time she ever made her presence known to any of them was to berate and terrify Ruby the one time she’d learned anything about Summer?! Like BRO. This is so fucked up! This is too fucked up! This is straight early 90′s level villainy right here. What was even the point behind this?! This scene tells us that she felt so negatively about Summer Rose that she was willing to break her silent cover just to disillusion Ruby for no other reason than to tell her she was weak. Which makes no fucking sense because when we finally meet her during season 5 Raven has nothing bad to say about Summer at all! What did Qrow say to her after they spoke? “Hey sis why the fuck are you flying around your ex’s home scaring his daughter who just lost her mother? You realize you’re talking shit about the woman who raised your child too right?” Like, this is so wildly terrible, that if we’re meant to take this into account, I don’t see how anyone who reads these comics could say anything positive about Raven ever again. This is strike one, two and three for her entire characterization.

Issue #4:

I’ve said it already but fuck this boat.

Not so much an issue with the comic as it is with RoosterTeeth’s sometimes sloppy storytelling, but we really need an exact age on Adam. Is this man a pedophile? We know Blake is about twelve here, meanwhile- besides looking maybe a little scrawnier- Adam looks the same as he did during the show. How old is this kid right here? Fifteen? Seventeen? Was he 20 during the events of volume 1? Was he 25? I really dislike this specific problem RT has created because at no point during canon were we led to believe that Adam was significantly older than Blake or our other characters, but here in the comic we’re getting huge pedo vibes. Idk if this was RoosterTeeth retroactively trying to throw Adam’s character even further into question but... Idk man, RT y’all need to hurry up and carbon date this kid because I’m really not liking this.

I’m not gonna harp on the whole “Adam as a revolutionary vs Adam as a genocidal maniac” issue again. Most of y’all already know where I stand on this and have either made up your minds that either, yes, Adam’s sudden change towards being genocidal after being forcibly conscripted by Cinder doesn’t make much sense, or, no, Adam’s behavior is entirely in line with what little we’d seen of him up to that point in the story. I’m not trying to change anyone’s opinions on this issue, I’ve got about a dozen other posts for that. My issue with these panels specifically is that this is the moment Blake discovers Adam is genocidal. This is the moment Blake realizes that Adam never wanted peace, never wanted coexistence, never wanted what the White Fang actually wanted in the first place. He wanted Faunus supremacy- a goal entirely removed from the White Fang’s goal of equality between Faunus and humans. This is the moment Blake realizes that his ideology is so far from what it is she herself wants. If this is correct, why does Blake never mention this AT ALL when she’s talking about Adam. When the conversation comes up during season 3, she specifically states that Adam’s change was gradual. Not that he’d been hiding who he really was from her but that he’d become a completely different person from the man she’d originally known. I recognize that a lot of people say that this could be explained away as evidence of Blake’s abuse- oftentimes abusers don’t even realize just how monstrous their abusers are, even after they’ve escaped from said abuse. But this is just such a monumentally larger issue than manipulation and abuse. Adam is outright saying that he wants genocide! He’s not trying to hide it, he’s not trying to lie, he’s not trying to manipulate her! He’s telling her explicitly that he wishes he could kill as many humans as possible. But during the Black Trailer she’s still asking Adam about the crew members as if they hadn’t had this conversation hours ago! During season 2 she’s drawing him in her notebook as if she misses him! During season 3 she’s explaining that he’s simply misguided! This is apologia of the umpteenth level that is absolutely inexcusable. If I’m honestly supposed to be made to believe that Blake knew Adam was genocidal from before the events of the Black trailer and season 1 but still had feelings for him... I’m sorry but I’ve lost any and all respect for her entire character. You can’t have feelings for someone who’s genocidal- who you know is genocidal- and expect sympathy. No amount of abuse would forgive someone for having feelings for Hitler.

I recognize the comics aren’t supposed to be a shot for shot recreation of the show, but what the fuck is this panel? The frame of Adam dismembering Yang was such a good, amazing, impactful frame. The black and red framing, the yellow of Yang’s hair and weapons, the red of Adam’s sword. Why would you not even try to recreate that?

Leaving nitpicks for the end, really wish they hadn’t used “sunflower” here. That’s Yang/Ren. But again, the comic is made by people who aren’t in the fndm and don’t interact with the RWBY community at large in the first place, so of course they wouldn’t know.

Issue #5:

Why does Blake seem so ooc here. Like, the fact that she’s trying to make Weiss feel guilty for “cheating” in a “win by any means necessary” free for all match is really??? Weird??? When we know Blake isn’t above using underhanded tricks herself considering what she did to Reese during the tournament and her Semblance in general??? But whatever, that’s mostly a nitpick as well.

Issue #7:

My issue with this story is that it ends with Yang like, wistfully thinking of spending more time with Blake. But this is before she even put the prosthetic on. This is before she even got to talk with Weiss after meeting up with Raven. This is so early on in her healing process that I find it extremely difficult to believe that Yang is fondly remembering any time she spent with Blake. When Ruby talks to her during 3.12, she was angry that Blake had left her! Abandoned her! And then in the conversation she has with Weiss that happens after this event in the comic she’s still frustrated with Blake for leaving. So like... did she suddenly forgive Blake just a few weeks into her recovery and then relapse back into feeling like she’d abandoned her? Wtf is this?

Issue #9:

I know she’s obviously supposed to be drunk here, and we barely got to know her during the short scenes she had, but like... she never struck me as this kind of person. To literally forget how old her daughter is? Like...???? The same woman who was so perceptive she was able to recognize that Whitley was acting out because he’d felt lonely and abandoned by his sisters? Doesn’t know how old one of her children is? This is silly.

This isn’t the same woman we met during season 7. This isn’t the same quick witted woman who immediately directed Weiss to the cameras she’d hidden around the house when it was time to spring the trap on Jacques. This isn’t the same woman who was so honest when she admitted to her own faults just a few short months after this scene supposedly took place. You could argue that the events of this comic are what led Willow to become the person we meet later on, but like... That’s an absolutely ridiculous amount of offscreen growth you’re expecting me to just assume has happened. These aren’t the same people. This is ridiculous.

Issue #12:

This seems so ooc for Sun. Why is he literally begging her to run away and not face a problem when his entire relationship with Blake up to and past this point is him teaching Blake to love herself enough to face her problems head-on in the first place? This is so weird and gross imo because it just feels like they’re warping Sun’s character to make it look like Yang is the only good influence in her life when that’s simply not the case. Every conversation Sun has with Blake from season 1 to season 6 is him telling her that she deserves happiness, love, and to forgive herself. There are multiple songs about this aspect of their relationship! Sun has helped Blake grow just as much as Yang has. Why is Sun taking this approach to manipulate Blake into staying silent about something that’s bothering her? On top of that, Sun’s never been the brightest banana of the bunch anyway, why the FUCK is he smart enough here to recognize that if Blake tells the truth and makes those people feel bad, that they’d draw more Grimm? He’s never been this intuitive before. It really feels like they made him smarter than he normally is just to make him scummier than he’s ever been so that we could feel that Blake’s relationship with Sun is less than her relationship with Yang. Awful writing and characterization from the RWBY DC team here

Issue #13:

This is so wrong and despicable and manipulative and terrible. Again, this isn’t the same woman we met in the show. 

Willow never made excuses for herself or her actions like this. Not once during the entire time she was on screen did she do anything like this. She knew she wasn’t a great mother and she took full responsibility for her actions- and inaction- I don’t know WHY she’s trying to excuse herself here. This is more Cruella De Ville than it is Willow Schnee.

I’m not gonna explain how lumping this “prized menagerie” story with “Faunus slave labor” story together is godawful but just recognize that it’s Black History Month and this plot point they decided to write in is not MLK approved.

Anyway, that’s the whole RWBY DC run. All in all it wasn’t the worst adaptation of an established series, but goddamn. I’d rank this up there with Eragon or Percy Jackson or the end of the Soul Eater anime or something. This is such a slap in the face by people who obviously only ever skimmed through the show for the explicit purpose of writing this series that I’ve read fancomics and fanfiction that handle canon better than this. It’s really frustrating too because this comic run is like, beloved by certain people in the fndm who are only in this for the ships, and people who refuse to see anything wrong with this series ever. The healthy servings of Bumbleby and crumbs of Monochrome and White Rose are apparently enough to make people go “fuck all the inconsistencies, this comic is great.” Cannot express how much these people make me wanna slam my head into a wall. 

I did this just to highlight all the issues I have with the run, but I’m sure other people have other issues with this comic than I do. Have fun in the comments I guess.