#google doc's attempt to assassinate ME

[angeart]

You are in fact good at teasing xD you know I wanna ask but I know you were working on rambles before you got sick and I see those hmtb posts too -🎀

yeah i had to get into a fist fight with google doc over hmtb. it said this was enough angst and tried to stop me.

can't believe i have two unfinished hhau rambles going on and yet i'm teasing a third. but you can't blame me!! the au is too fun.

on the topic of teasing, this is currently sitting in the wip of mimic arc aftermath rambles:

Whenever his feelings slip and spiral a bit too much, he keeps begging Scar to stay. He pleads for him to not leave him again, in a choked, broken, terrified voice. 

He tells Scar he won't be able to take it the second time. He won't, he won’t.

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

Big Boss: What Happened?

Big Boss: Info Dump Request

@qoppybirdie requested:

This is my attempt at fulfilling that, with my own take on it. And probably a whole lot longer than OP wanted. But here we are. 

Google Doc version. NOW ACCEESIBLE (Opened Access)

As a quick aside, I personally consider Portable Ops canon to the timeline and lore. Not everyone does, but in this I will be using examples from Portable Ops, as to me, it’s canon. I’m aware this is debated, so I’m putting it out there first and foremost.

Here we go!

“Politics are a living thing. They change along with the times. Today’s good may be tomorrow's evil.”-The Boss, to Big Boss (then Naked Snake) during the Virtuous Mission, 1964.

Big Boss, known as John/Jack, was born in the USA in 1935. Almost nothing of his life is known until the age of 15/16, when he met The Boss in 1950, becoming her apprentice. The Boss served as his mentor, and remains one of the most defining figures in his life, up until his death in 2014. Soon after meeting The Boss, John fought in the Korean War, and was part of nuclear testing in Bikini Atoll, in 1954.

This puts the FOX unit in jeopardy, and at risk of execution unless they can prove America wasn’t involved, with Big Boss given the task of rescuing Dr. Sokolov for a second time, assassinating the Boss, and as they put it “if possible, Colonel Volgin”. Volgin happens to have a metal gear, but that’s secondary to this story believe it or not.

This is the Operation where he also meets Ocelot, and Eva. Both of whom we’ll get back to later.

Cue Operation Snake Eater, and what is arguably the start of a nearly 60 year downfall for Big Boss. Big Boss defeats the Shagohod Metal Gear and Volgin, (does not manage to save Sokolov) and kills The Boss. When he returns to the United States, he’s given a medal for his service, and is left with a feeling of emptiness, grief and a whole lot of unanswered questions.

Whenever I think about the spiral of Big Boss, I tend to come back to the moment here, (and the one later, when he’s at the Boss’ grave). It can be argued that he never, ever recovers from this. While it takes him a lifetime to understand it, by the time of his death in 2014,he has fallen so far from the man he once was that it’s only at death he can acknowledge what he’s become, to his clone son  Solid Snake,(Dave).

“Boss, you only need one Snake now..no, the world would be better without Snake’s.” Big Boss (at the Boss’ grave to Solid Snake, in 2014)

I could almost end this here, on the notion that he was used by the military to kill someone he loved and cared about, and lost all sense of what he believed in, and himself, in doing so. That the next 60ish years are just him going through the motions, attempting to come to a conclusion that doesn’t exist.

Why was he used? Why was he the one that needed to pull the trigger? Big Boss wasn’t exactly what I’d call an ‘idealist’ before that, but he did hold certain preconceived beliefs about his place in the world, and what he was meant to do with it. And that he had all of them wiped aside in an instant, all to save face for a country that would discard him at a moment's notice.

Before she was assassinated, the Boss was legendary as a soldier, and an American. She was idolised by her country and the people she served and worked with. When we find out later that her defection was part of a mission, and that it was jeopardised by Volgin behaving in a way nobody saw coming, it took nothing for them to discard her. When Big Boss is being awarded a service medal and the president attempts to shake his hand, I can imagine those are the thoughts playing on loop in his head.

They honour him now, in the moment. Yet a week before he was almost going to be executed by that same government and country, and his mentor, someone so beloved by the USA, was given that exact fate

He realizes here that his role, his personhood means nothing in the greater scope of war, and he’s supposed to just stand there, accept a handshake and pretend this total farce is a good thing?

Just like she told him, “Today's enemy, tomorrow’s friend.” That was a lesson the Boss understood before he did, and it’s one that he grasps all too well afterwards..to a degree. Big Boss we come to see is betrayed again and again by the people around him, because up to a certain point, he allows people into his life. In the same need for human connection and meaning all people have. Something that is abused countless times by the people close to him.

It takes years, but at some point, he does eventually give up. As we’ll see. 

Following Operation Snake Eater, Big Boss leaves the military for a bit. He works at various jobs like hunting guides, only to go back to fighting and meet and rescue Frank Jaeger  during the Mozambican War of Independence in 1966, but ultimately ends up doing mercenary work. In 1970, he’s captured via drugging by another rogue FOX unit, headed by a rogue agent known as GENE in what became the San Hieronymo Incident. 

Gene had an idea, a nation of soldier’s. Made by soldier’s for soldiers.

This will sound extremely familiar, as it is almost verbatim to what Big Boss ends up creating himself later on. Outer Heaven. Even though the San Hieronymo Incident ends in Gene’s defeat, and with Big Boss returning to the USA and forming The Patriots with his former commander, Major Zero and members of the unit in Operation Snake Eater. Such as SIGINT (Donald Anderson), Para-Medic, Ocelot and Eva. Using some of the Philosopher’s Legacy, (money), The Patriots started out as an attempt to unify the world, but expanded and corrupted far beyond that original goal.

Big Boss himself leaves the Patriots in 1972, after facing the second major betrayal via the creation of Les Enfants Terribles (aka, ‘The Terrible Children), under Para-Medic’s care. Without telling Big Boss, or asking his consent, LET was undergone using Big Boss’ DNA, with an unnamed egg donor and Eva as the surrogate to make his clone sons, Solid Snake and Liquid Snake (Eli). As well as the ‘perfect clone’ Solidus Snake, (George). (He was not surrogated by Eva, however).

“They’re no sons of mine.” “Just a bunch of cells grown in a lab?”

“What they are is much sicker than that.”- John and Ocelot discussing the clone sons, in 1984.

LET existed because Zero and Para-Medic wanted to ensure the continuation of Big Boss’ genes and soldier capabilities. He saw them as an abomination and betrayal. After learning of LET, Big Boss leaves the Patriots, and the United States. Working again as a mercenary for higher. 

No matter what he does, he cannot get himself out of warzones. 

“The Boss and I may have gone down different paths, but we were trapped in the same cage.”- Big Boss to Solid Snake, in 2014

Really quick, the definition of a mercenary according to Merriam Webster is; ‘one that serves merely for wages’. They mostly find themselves in warzones, but they are not fighting on behalf of a country. They are not conscripted or drafted. The gain is purely financial. But most specifically, a mercenary is hired ‘for foreign conflicts’ in particular. This is largely because a country may want to get involved in a certain conflict, or mission, but are unable to legally, or without raising suspicions. Thus, they hire a non-related mercenary, for pay, to do what they cannot.

This is the sort of environment Big Boss finds himself operating in more often than not. He’s fresh off a second betrayal, mistrustful and hurt, and finds himself on the lam and a gun for hire in Columbia, eventually ending up hired by the Colombian government to work with their army.  I can imagine his attitude in Columbia being one that is grieving, disillusioned and bitter. It’s here that he comes upon a guerilla squad commanded by Kazuhira Miller, and wipes them out. Except for Miller. Who he ‘recruits’ under the idea of it being non-negotiable. Kaz is the only survivor, and if he doesn’t stay with Big Boss, he’ll be executed. (Instead, Big Boss blackmails a commander who could be responsible for it, in order to keep Kaz off the chopping block). Which is a nice little fact to hang over Kaz’s head, should he choose to escape.

Heiwa to Kazuhira no Blues (the Peace Walker audio drama) expands on this a great deal. His ‘recruitment’ is no simple thing, and Big Boss also puts Kaz through a number of rigged trials he knows Kaz can’t win, in order to further cement his place under him. Combining that in conjunction with the fact that Kaz will be executed should he not ally with Big Boss (and I’ll point out here that yes, Kaz does try to blow himself and Big Boss up with a grenade but does he really want to die?) it’s something of a hopeless situation and somewhat one-sided.

The entire relationship and scenario with Kaz is complicated enough on its own. Kaz isn’t a fully innocent victim either, but it is at this point and time that one can see a significant shift happening in Big Boss’ mindset. There’s a sinister element to the trials he puts Kaz through, and yet, there’s still a part of him that clings to the idea of companionship. He’s edging closer to the dark end of grey in his climbing scale, but he has not yet crossed that point.

Kaz spearfishing during one of the trials (art by Yoji Shinkawa)

Defeated, Kaz joins Big Boss, and as his subcommander they form one of the first ever PMC’s (or, Private Military Company)-Militaires Sans Frontières (Army without Borders, or MSF). The concept of the PMC later takes over in the world (and the disastrous environment Solid Snake finds himself dealing with come 2014). While in MSF, Big Boss finds himself in Costa Rica to deal with the Peace Walker incident, and becomes allied there with some revolutionaries from the Sandinista National Liberation Front, who are under the command of Amanda Valenciano Libre, after the death of her father (the original commander). And via Amanda, Big Boss meets her brother, Ricardo Valenciano Libre, or. Chico.

Chico is where this gets complicated. Chico is around 12 years old at the time, and one of the key elements to where we see Big Boss’ mindset shifting fully. While he’s still somewhat optimistic, even a little goofy at times (the way we see him in Snake Eater), Chico’s situation is a mixed bag. On the one hand, it’s easy to argue that Chico being part of the MSF is one of the only alternatives he could have at the time. He’s in the middle of a warzone with his sister. If he’s not under Big Boss, where else can he go? What else can he reasonably do?

-What makes discussing Big Boss so tricky, I think-and why I believe it’s almost impossible to say he had some sort of ‘turning point’, is that it is completely possible to look at everything he does, everything that happens, and find a way to excuse or come up with a justification, or even logic for it. This is not me saying that he is right, or a good person. Metal Gear cannot just be boxed into ‘good’ or ‘evil’ it is grey. It is supposed to be grey. It centres around people and themes that do not have such simplistic barriers to work with. That is the point.-

-The downfall of Big Boss does not happen overnight. It is a slow burning wreck that expands and grows. It is the make-up and conclusion of many factors, incidents and events. It happens slowly, and sometimes it happens below the surface.-

For all intents and purposes, Chico is a child soldier. But is that Big Boss’ fault? Children are as wrapped up in war as any other. War does not care if you’re a child, or an adult. Did Chico truly have anywhere else to go?

I don’t really have an answer to that. And I’m going to admit it out right. What I will say is that early on in Chico’s recruitment, Big Boss rescues Chico, but he doesn’t want to go back with him because he’s ashamed of giving up information (link should be time stamped for access) about the others to the enemy.

There are MANY ways to interpret this moment. I’ve seen various interpretations of it myself, but here’s how I’m going to explain it. As per how I see it. Again, this is a complicated story and scenario-and people’s view on it is going to differ a lot. One of the points I really want to stress in this far-too-long essay here is that none of what we see comes with the easiest answers. It’s all layered. How you view a moment may differ from how someone else views it. 

Anyway, to me, I’m going to put it like this. Big Boss knows that Chico doesn’t mean that. What I can’t say for sure is if he’d have really shot him or not (I don’t think he would’ve, not only because he promised Amanda he’d bring Chico back, and if nothing else Big Boss will usually complete his missions. But that as far as we know, he never outright executes a child in the series). But Chico does not know this. Big Boss is, essentially, showing Chico that no, he doesn't want to die, come on now. And that breaking under the situation isn’t something he needs to feel guilty about. Nor, is it worth dying for.

WE can assume that Big Boss isn’t going to hurt him. WE can realise that but there is no way for Chico to hold the same understanding here. 

But Chico isn’t a man. Chico is a child. When Chico dies in 1975, Skullface says something very similar. Negating the fact that at the end of the day, this is no adult. 

“No more wargames, you’re a real man now, soldier”.-Skullface (to Chico when he’s a tortured prisoner in Camp Omega, 1975)

Here, Big Boss is visibly (I can assume anyway) attempting to encourage Chico. Prove to him that he doesn’t want to die, and that he doesn’t need to die for the infraction he believes himself to have made. (None of Chico’s compatriots blame him for giving up information, and why would they? He is a kid).

But did he? Big Boss can think that the ‘child’ died,  and he became a man. But is any of that really true? Is Chico not as much a child now as he is when he dies a year later?

I find it very significant that the artist, Ashley Wood, has Big Boss completely in shadow here. It says a lot about what Chico must be feeling, and how we (the audience) might be meant to interpret him. There is none of the silly dork we know Big Boss to have been a decade prior. There is none of the innocence and even almost child-like awkwardness he was so beholden to. So much of his optimism, his original outlook and hope, is eradicated by this point.

Chico, I’ll note really quick is never seen off-radio. He is kept ‘safe’ (if you can call it that) on the MSF base itself. And working as radio support. I’ll note too that Chico always wants to be seen as an ‘adult’ by the people around him. But, come on. I’m sure we all remember being 13. I’m sure everyone had that ‘I am desperate to be mature and taken seriously’ awkward teen phase. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a child, who is stealing Amanda’s cigarettes one moment, and laughing about his favourite monsters and cryptids the next.

It’s no more justified (in my opinion) than Huey Emmerich is when he uses the absolutely pathetic reasoning behind letting a 4-year-old Hal pilot Sahelanthropus.

“He (Hal) wanted to get in!”-Huey Emmerich to Revolver Ocelot under torture. 1984. 

What Hal may have wanted is irrelevant to the fact that you don’t let a kid touch a hot stove because they want to. It is on the adults around them to make sure they don’t do things they can’t control. Granted, Chico is old enough in Peace Walker to have very valid feelings about what he might want, and more than old enough for personal agency, but still young enough to where adults around him should be protecting him.

And I know that in war, the rules are not the same. I understand that. Later on we see a 12 year old Liquid Snake and child soldiers in situations no child should be in, but does that mean they still didn’t need protection? In any case, I’m too close to getting off topic here, so let’s keep going.

We will see him goofing off a bit more in Peace Walker. But it is important to note that by its end, Big Boss’ ideology, and his view on the world has shifted a lot. 

He also comes to find out that Kaz was employed by Zero (now going by ‘Cipher’) and working as a spy. Marking the third time Big Boss is betrayed by someone close to him. In this, I’m sort of torn. My personal interpretation of the ‘spy Kaz’ bit is extensive and doesn’t quite belong here, but I’ll note that it’s another way in which Big Boss comes to find that he can’t trust anyone that it doesn’t matter how close someone is to him, they are going to find a way to stab him in the back.

He’s already become more and more cynical around this point, and it is not aided by finding out the truth about Kaz either. The cloud around Big Boss darkens all the more. 

By the end of Peace Walker, Big Boss has come to learn what he thinks is the truth about the Boss. When she put down her gun (stopped fighting) she (in his mind) betrayed the ideology and beliefs that he feels she taught him, and when Big Boss ‘let’s go’ of her (in disgust, as he takes this to be an example of her betraying the will of the soldier, and him). I don’t fully grasp how he comes to this conclusion, but in letting the Boss ‘go’ (by removing her bandana) he shifts again, willingly keeping a nuke on Mother Base in the MSF (at Kaz’s suggestion, I’ll note) To Big Boss, I guess he might see this as the fourth betrayal.

With another metal gear defeated, Big Boss declares the following to the MSF:

"We have no nation, no philosophy, no ideology. We go where we're needed, fighting not for country, not for government, but for ourselves. We need no reason to fight. We fight because we are needed. We will be the deterrent for those with no other recourse. We are soldiers without borders, our purpose defined by the era we live in."-Big Boss to the MSF, after the Metal Gear ZEKE battle.

But this is not where that speech ends. Big Boss is under few illusions about the sort of man he’s become, and he tells his men much the same.

Fairly self explanatory, in my opinion.

Thus, the MSF becomes a nuclear power. And this is the mindset that Big Boss has when he goes into the Ground Zeroes mission at Camp Omega. Chico has escaped to go rescue Paz and Skullface has planned an attack on Mother Base while they’re gone. The inspection approved by Huey Emmerich (who didn’t ask Big Boss or Kaz first, and was apparently under the belief it was legitimate..and I don’t know if it’s true or not, I can never fully come to a conclusion there). 

The base explodes, and while Kaz is seething and raging, Big Boss is left so shell shocked all he can do is sit motionless while Kaz shakes him repeatedly. Attempting to get any sort of answer from him. Answers Big Boss doesn’t give, nor does he have. After all, it’s not his fault the base went up in flames. The end result is the death of Paz and Chico, and the start of a 9-year- coma for Big Boss.

And, for the medic on that chopper, whom Ocelot and Zero turn into Venom Snake. Big Boss’ phantom and living body-double. Fully hypnotized, brainwashed and made into another man, all without his consent.

The creation of Venom alone is gregarious enough, but Big Boss didn’t sign off on Venom. He was already made by the time he wakes up in 1984. But aside from a moment of protesting it, Big Boss embraces it. Allowing Venom to wake up in a hospital that’s largely blown to shreds and turned into a massacre under XOF (Skullface’s unit), all so he and Venom can escape under cover. Countless people die in that hospital, and Big Boss has become arrogant and callous enough to where it doesn’t matter to him.

Ocelot is also the only one aware of the truth. (Someone Big Boss doesn’t seem to mind having that right, since up to this point, and the rest of his life, Ocelot is one of the few people who doesn’t betray him). Kaz, by contrast, has been completely abandoned and cast aside by him. And not told about Venom being a different man (until later). Which has a real element of cruelty in it, in my opinion. Especially since it’s Venom who saves Kaz after he’s been a POW for a while. But that’s another post in it’s own way.

Big Boss wakes up a new man, with a new (stolen) identity, and with his body double firmly in place and Ocelot pleasantly self-hypnotized to carry it out, he leaves to go begin the formation of Outer Heaven. Free to let others do his dirty work, while he continues to operate by himself. 

Putting aside the fact that he looks damn good here-that isn’t the face of a guy with a whole lot of humanity left in him.

Remember Zero? Let’s go back to him for a quick moment. Because it’s at this point in the timeline that Big Boss begins to embrace a concept that was originally propagated by Zero when they were still all working together as the Patriots. By the early 1970’s, Big Boss had a pretty good reputation behind him as legendary soldier. And Zero believed it would be a good call to emphasise that narrative. It was beneficial to have Big Boss’ legend spread throughout, and continued. It’s also important to note that Big Boss himself rejected being called ‘Big Boss’ as he believed the title should only belong to the Boss.

In San Hieronymo, he’s called ‘Snake’ (much like his original codename, Naked Snake) and in Peace Walker the sandinistas often call him ‘Vic Boss’ as they compare him to Che Guevara (as does Kaz). The comparisons to Guevara do not end there, as historically, Guevara was most known for having several jobs under his belt, and being a key figure in the Cuban Revolution. Until his execution by the CIA in 1965. Personal opinions of Guevara are extensive and far beyond the scope of what I’m going to cover here, and will undoubtedly vary by person. Thus, I’ve left it as a link. He was a radical revolutionary in his lifetime, and is mentioned periodically in conjunction with Naked Snake, which paints a suggested idea of how some characters in-series viewed Big Boss as a person.

This being a good or bad thing, is again up to personal interpretation. 

Either way, it’s notable (for me and I guess for the purpose of this essay) that up until the end of Peace Walker, Big Boss largely rejects the idea of being a figurehead, a martyr or particularly legendary. That is no longer the case in the 80’s. Where he is fully ‘Big Boss’ as we know him, and absolutely fine with leaving people in the line of fire (consent or otherwise) after a long coma, one too many betrayals, and the full disillusionment of his original beliefs at the hands of a lot of hurt, and years of pain and complicated warfare.

I don’t know that I’d consider Big Boss was ever a ‘humble’ sort of man. In the very beginning of his first mission we see him doing (the Halo Jump into the Virtuous Mission) he’s arrogantly smoking and ignoring the man telling him to put on his mask. But by the end of the 80’s he’s gone completely into the beast he and others created, arrogant and without care.

While Venom is working on the Diamond Dogs (who are also later transferred to Outer Heaven, while Big Boss himself operates Foxhound), he’s (at some point) reuniting with Frank Jaeger (now Gray Fox, at some point rescues and recruits Sniper Wolf, and building up Zanzibarland). By the 1990’s, Big Boss is kidnapping scientists, building metal gears, has children he saved on his base, and is nothing like the man we saw in the mid 60’s.

Hey, speaking of kidnapping, let’s go over how soldiers get ‘recruited’ to the MSF, Diamond Dogs (again yes I know that’s Venom), Outer Heaven, etc. Starting with the MSF, (but there was a taste of it in the San Hieronymo Incident), soldiers are knocked out and dragged back to the base. They’re left in the brig for a little bit, and come out completely and utterly loyal to Big Boss.

How loyal?

“We live and die by your order, Boss!”-Diamond Dogs infected with the Vocal Cord Parasite mutation, just before being mercy executed by Venom Snake.

That loyal.(Again, it’s best to operate when talking about Venom Snake in this specific case as if he and Big Boss are one in the same, because it’s not exactly about the man, but the situation, the cult for lack of a better word, of Big Boss). To these soldiers, who they are as people doesn’t matter as much as what the Boss demands. It’s that same energy, that mindset, that had Venom Snake (then the Medic) throw himself in front of a flaming chopper to save Big Boss’ life.

And where Big Boss might’ve questioned that sort of thing beforehand, by the time of Diamond Dogs, Outer Heaven etc, it is fully embraced. It’s fine that he’s got another man doing plenty of his dirty work (without his consent). It’s fine that he left Kaz because Kaz hurt him and betrayed him and he doesn’t deserve to hear otherwise. It’s fine that thousands die in a burning hospital to save his own life.

And then it’s later ‘fine’ when a young Solid Snake (who doesn’t know he’s Big Boss’ son) is sent into Outer Heaven during Operation Intrude N313, to kill who he thinks is Big Boss, but is actually Venom Snake.

Venom Snake, who has now spent 11 years as Big Boss himself, who has one last mission to die. As Big Boss for Big Boss. Again. The tape to Venom is Big Boss at what I believe is one of his most arrogant moments yet. In it, he thanks Venom *sort of* for his work, and how he’s helped him build up their shared legend. A legend that later Big Boss takes all the credit for. Because Outer Heaven explodes, and the man is all but erased from memory. Absorbed back into Big Boss yet again. 

For a man that wanted to create a nation where soldiers mean something, and are revered, Venom’s discarded pretty quick (and he never agreed to be there to begin with). I cannot say if the Medic would’ve agreed to become Big Boss if he’d even been able to, but I can say that it is hard to deny that he’s used as much as any other soldier. Because at this moment, Big Boss now believes that dying on a battlefield is the only way to go, and Venom should be honoured to be him. Or ‘them’ as Big Boss puts it.

“I am you, and you are me.This story, this legend, it’s ours. I cheated death thanks to you.”-Big Boss to Venom Snake. 

And then Venom dies, all but forgotten. His purpose has been served. His job is done. He’s no longer needed. Him, nor any of the soldiers who die in Outer Heaven. With Solid mostly oblivious to the secondary layers happening below. (Big Boss has absolutely no issue using Solid, either. He’s past the point of caring). I can imagine someone telling Solid, “This guy used to laugh about eating glowing mushrooms that recharge his batteries” and being unable to believe it.

When Solid Snake faces down Big Boss for the second time in 1999, he is past the point of caring about anything that isn’t war. His speech to Solid in Zanzibarland before Solid defeats him is infamous, and sums up his general view of the world in a nice, succinct fashion for Solid (and the audience). 

This is the culmination of decades of hurt, betrayals and the knowledge that he is a man built and bred for the war machine. Big Boss has come to a point where he’s suffered enough, experienced enough, that war is all he can understand. War is all that he can possibly care about. He has stopped being able to feel, to connect with people. He is hollowed out, hardened and fully embracing the man he’s turned himself into.

These are not excuses. Big Boss can be a victim of his fate and the war machine, and still not be in the right here. The two can and in this case I’d argue, do very much co-exist. As I said above, his ‘downfall’ was not a matter of tripping down some steps. It was a slow, consistent decline that eventually accumulated. Despite this, Solid does defeat him, and Big Boss is put in stasis for the next few years. Left quite literally on ice. Conscious, but trapped in his body. 

Don’t YOU make your clone son kill your body double and use him almost as badly as others used you? No? (Solid Snake and Big Boss, Metal Gear Solid 2, Yoji Shinkawa)

“I never saw you as a son. But as a man, a soldier.”-Big Boss to Solid Snake, 2014

We know how this story ends. Big Boss spends a bunch of time on ice, gets re-fitted with body parts taken from Solidus’ and dies of the new Foxdie virus (which also kills Eva and Ocelot, just like it did Liquid before) in the same cemetery where most of it started. Leaning up against the Boss’ grave. Aware that he spent decades misunderstanding her will, and that he never quite got it right in life.

How then, would I wrap this up? Well, I guess you could say that I’ve cheated a little. Because I never truly answer the question, “how does Big Boss become evil”, did I? I suppose some of it’s because, as I summed up earlier, I just don’t see it as such a simple case. I do believe that we’re all meant to have our own interpretation, at the end of the day, and the easiest way to summarise it might be that a man becomes so enmeshed in the war machine, that he turns into the very machine himself.

Big Boss had child soldiers (but did the kids fight?). Big Boss used, and abused many people (and was used and abused himself). Big Boss created PMC’s (with help). Big Boss had nukes (at the suggestion of others).

Etc, etc.

At the end of the day, I’ll conclude this long, rambling spiral of thoughts to say that the moment Big Boss ‘turns’ is up to interpretation. Which may seem like a cowards way out, but is it not true? Whenever I pose the question, I see many different answers and responses out in the wild.

This, therefore, is my own take on it. My attempt. And I know I’ve probably forgotten something (or many something’s) but I personally, will end here.

If you made it this far, congratulations! I cannot believe how long this got, and thanks for coming along with me.

By,

Nate

[rainysflowers]

Tosses this out into the eather for the most niche audience I could think of. *NYEAH!!*

After seeing the lovely @species-whump-weekly and waiting excitedly for their Demon prompt list for the purposes of using them against my favorite Mazoku, I decided that it would be fun to do something similar. Therefore, I'd like to offer to you, the whump and Slayers community...

Mazoku Whump Week!!

This is the perfect opportunity to take your beloved Mazoku, be them canon or original, and beat them up (maybe comfort them too) for the world to see! What fun ^^ If this does interest you, please look under the cut for more info and prompts!! If not, then have a lovely day!!

CWs/TWS: Themes of Hurt/Pain, Dehumanization of Non-Humans, Neglect, and Similar Content

ALSO I feel that upon farther community interaction that I should mention to PLEASE write out/tag your entries with content & trigger warnings and the characters involved as to not offend/trigger anyone who may come across it without interest in said character/content!!

Personally, I like to give a general overview of what content is in the media much like my CWs/TWs above, then also add on SPESIFIC tags for worse things like Major Character Death, and finally PLEASE SPESIFY which character you'll be hurting in the media!!

Now, I call it a week because that's the way i formatted it, but there's no timeframe and there's no start date. I just made it for fun and my own enjoyment ^^ All I ask is that you please tag me in whatever you choose to create [Writing, art, GIFs, ect]:)) You totally don't have to be a part of either community to participate, I just made this for Slayers fans specifically because I love that anime <3 They are also more so anime-based, than light novel-based, as a side note.

Prompts are formatted as a single master-prompt, something that sets the theme for the sub-prompts under it, and three sub-prompts that you can write one, two, or all three of!! There are also seven alternative prompts that follow the same general theme of the master-prompts (I.E. alternative prompt one (1) has the same theme as master-prompt one (1) and so forth). !!! Two alternative prompts are based on my personal headcannons, but those are labeled as such, and do not have to be used !!!

Here is the prompt list:

01) Summoned.

1] I’ll Treat You Like My Pet/Dehumanization

2] Defiance/Defiant Whumpee* (*Whumpee refers to the character who is in pain, which is in this case the Mazoku of your choice)

3] Terms and Conditions

02) Used.

1] Losing Control

2] Astral Wound/Pain

3] Magical Exhaustion

03) Misunderstood.

1] Kindness Makes the World Go Round

2] Starvation

3] Botched Shapeshifting

04) Betrayed.

1] Backstabbed

2] Found Out

3] Ritual Sacrifice

05) Returned.

1] Uncaring Master

2] Can’t Go Back

3] Demonic Punishment

06) Inherited.

1] Immortality

2] Bleeding Black

3] Ingrained Morality

07) History.

1] Scars

2] War Never Changes

3] Falling Comrades

Alternative Prompts

1] Orihalcon Restraints/Weapons (Based on a headcanon where the metal Orihalcon is able to suppress the Mazoku's ability to either return to the Astral Plane or negates their ability to be impervious to physical wounds in the real world.)

2] Reluctant Caretaker

3] Presumed Dead (Based on a headcanon where if a Mazoku is injured enough, they must ditch their assumed form to return to the Astral Plane, leaving them looking like a corpse in the Human World.)

4] “I can’t believe I trusted you.”

5] Assassination (Attempts)

6] “I thought that you couldn’t love?”

7] Survivor’s Guilt

Here is the Prompt List in a Google Doc:

Thank you so much for checking out this post, sorry for the crappiness lol, I just wanted to share some stuff. Ill be back sooner or later, and if you have any questions, please send them on in ^^ luv yall with the strength of a thousand suns <3 Have a good day, night, and whatever else!!

[jacuzziwaters]

For Aromantic Visibility Day I present to you the different story drafts that mini me came up with back in middle school and early highschool when I didn't know about Aromanticism.

Anyone is free to use them but please @ me I wanna see where these go.

Hanahaki AU where everyone is automatically born with buds but the buds change color depending on the type of love that you're feeling. Flowers consume you if you don't confess your feelings but you won't die if they aren't reciprocated. Our MC's flowers have yet to change from the pure white that everyone is born with. She has never felt romantic love. In an attempt to understand it, she runs a club at her school to help her peers with their love troubles. (Sidenote: I did a lot of research on flower names and meanings and I never saved it to the Google Doc. But each person has a different flower type that grows from their wrists. The flower type represents their personality.)

A mother sabotaged her daughters romantic relationships because all the men that she keeps dating are only after her for the kingdom. She tries to use her powers to teach her daughter the pains of love to try to encourage her to stay by her side. Later the daughter finds out and decides to just give up on love entirely much to her mother's relief. (Mother was hella toxic but yeah 👍🏽)

I actually wrote out this one for a creative writing class. A story set in an apocalyptic world where most of humanity has died from a genotoxin that was created as a biological weapon at the onset of World War 3. (I wrote this in October of 2019 I kid you not.) She has never interacted with anyone for 7 years after her parents left her in an underground bunker to help find a cure for the neurotoxin. (They die.) She only leaves to look for food and supplies. One day she meets a grown woman while out and after growing closer to this woman, much to the woman's chagrin, she finds out that the woman is the one who created the neurotoxin. This woman wanted to cleanse the world of impurities (yadda yadda villain speak). The woman kills herself and the MC finds out that there are more people that are a love and she sets off to find them. The end. (What does this have to do with aromanticism you ask? No romantic lead. There we go.)

I also wrote about a woman who kidnapped a child to raise as her own because she had no intention of ever getting married. She and her daughter are constantly on the run to evade the authorities.

I was really into Hamilton in 8th-9th grade. I wrote a flash fiction about a girl who fell in love with a boy who her sister liked. Heartbroken and all that jazz she becomes really good friends with her crushes friend who likes her sister. They cope with their unrequited love together and stay close friends. (Her sister and her ex crush break up in the end.)

A girl stays in an eternal prison because of love.

A girl who gets out of an abusive relationship decides to date the player in their school. Her friend warns her about how he'll treat her really well but break your heart in the end because he wants to show his love to as many women as possible. He never dated a girl for more than 3 months. They break up in the end but the girl cherishes the time that they have together.

Two immortals have found one another and decide to explore and discover the world. They find that they are actually from the future sent to prevent a calamity from happening in the past. (No romantic relationship in this one either.)

A story about two rogue assassins who aren't in love with one another but they are close partners who can rely and trust in each other like lovers so much so that people always assumed that they were in a relationship.

A group of female warriors set out on a quest. (That is only one of the many found family plotlines that I came up with.)

Lord some of these are horrific. A common theme I'm seeing in these Google Docs is if it's a love story it always ends in tragedy, most of my main characters are definitely neurodivergent, and the real plotline is the family that we found along the way.

Anyways

Happy Aromantic Visibility Day

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#20yrsago TiVo’s new PC-viewing deliberately broken https://memex.craphound.com/2004/01/09/tivos-new-pc-viewing-deliberately-broken/

#20yrsago Doc Brite’s “fans” lock him out of fan-board for his own fiction https://docbrite.livejournal.com/2004/01/02/

#20yrsago Why can’t Homeland Security tell the difference between Al Quaeda and small children? https://www.salon.com/2008/08/11/security/

#15yrsago China’s astroturf army http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/7783640.stm

#15yrsago Abandoned Prime Minister’s mansion in Beirut — infiltration photos https://www.flickr.com/photos/poisonbabyfood/sets/72157612306706777/

#15yrsago Mandelbrot the fractal teddy-bear https://web.archive.org/web/20090118205736/https://buttonsformouse.blogspot.com/2008/12/mandelbrot-fractal-bear.html

#10yrsago Google Glass is a borg mullet https://web.archive.org/web/20140208050826/https://medium.com/the-nib/4ac09b78f0bb

#10yrsago Insane Clown Posse and ACLU sue FBI over calling juggalos a gang https://www.techdirt.com/2014/01/08/insane-clown-posse-sues-fbi-calling-juggalos-gang/

#10yrsago When the FBI asks you to weaken your security so it can spy on your users https://www.pcmag.com/news/what-its-like-when-the-fbi-asks-you-to-backdoor-your-software

#10yrsago Great Firewall of Cameron: the worst of all worlds for British parents https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2014/jan/08/david-cameron-great-firewall

#10yrsago Brilliant NSA scandal illustrations https://www.wired.com/2014/01/how-the-us-almost-killed-the-internet/

#10yrsago More experts pull out of RSA conference https://jeffreycarr.blogspot.com/2014/01/nsas-10m-rsa-contract-origins.html

#10yrsago Sardine in Outer Space: anarchic kids’ science fiction comic https://memex.craphound.com/2014/01/09/sardine-in-outer-space-anarchic-kids-science-fiction-comic/

#10yrsago EU invites Snowden testimony https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-25669448

#5yrsago Bell Canada asks Canadians for permission to harvest and sell their browsing, location, viewing and other data https://www.cbc.ca/news/business/bell-customer-data-1.4969066

#5yrsago Medieval book opens six ways, revealing six different texts https://erikkwakkel.tumblr.com/post/74300240443/six-books-one-binding-heres-something-special

#5yrsago Cambridge Analytica pleads guilty, faces the first in a probable series of criminal convictions https://www.thedailybeast.com/cambridge-analytica-pleads-guilty-in-uk-data-trial

#5yrsago Samsung phone owners are upset because they can’t delete the Facebook app https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019-01-08/samsung-phone-users-get-a-shock-they-can-t-delete-facebook

#5yrsago Someone’s finally going to jail over the Panama Papers: a Turkish journalist who reported true facts from them https://www.theguardian.com/news/2019/jan/09/journalist-pelin-unker-sentenced-to-jail-in-turkey-over-paradise-papers-investigation

#5yrsago A history of the sprawling personality clashes over RSS https://www.vice.com/en/article/a3mm4z/the-rise-and-demise-of-rss

#5yrsago American towns survive by fining poor people, and use debtors’ prisons to make them pay https://www.nytimes.com/2019/01/08/magazine/cities-fine-poor-jail.html

#5yrsago LA school district prepares for teachers' strike with army of expensive scabs https://www.latimes.com/local/education/la-me-edu-teachers-strike-staffing-20190107-story.html,/a>

#5yrsago Serbia erupts in nationwide protests after assassination attempts prompt fears of fascist resurgence https://globalvoices.org/2019/01/09/belgrade-protests-against-serbian-president-aleksandar-vucic-escalate-to-nationwide-demos/

#5yrsago Saudi law now requires sending a text to women after their husbands secretly divorce them https://www.loweringthebar.net/2019/01/saudi-women-text-message-divorce.html

[staticsqueaks]

Send me 🚪  ( or ‘door’ )   and I’ll generate a number for my muse to show up on your muse’s doorstep ( a mix of angst, silliness, and fluff )

Prompt for @thee-forcefield-guy. (For some reason I can't post it as text, so have a doc instead! Anyone can view the link to Google Docs below!) Number Rolled: 15 - Covered in Blood (their own) ((TW: Blood, violence, attempted "assassination" This is canon in the Hosin LL AU)) Document Found Here

[oneirataxia-girl]

TUA anon here again! I didn’t know Emmy and Telepath weren't supposed to be bigger OCs that's interesting.

If that's the case, can I pose the same question for Mirage? I know so much about her already but the basics evade me. Thank you already again mwah mwah mwah!

*pulls up a google doc of Mirage lore* yeah tbh I think I did a rather good job of hiding her most important secrets. Mirage is by far the most complicated oc I have so far (and probably one of the oldest) so here are some stuff that I probably haven’t said much abt her!

Mirage is the only one of the cerebral trio who stays at the Commission, so by necessity, AJ made her his successor (out of the three Telepath is the one with the best relationship with AJ, Mirage argues a lot with the fish)

she has the power to create illusions in other people’s minds. for example, she can make a person think there’s a spider in front of them, but to everyone else, the place is empty

Mirage is actually not the baby AJ acquired - the baby he found is named Veracity; but due to traumatic events in her childhood, Veracity developed dissociative identity disorder (also called DID), and the other personality is called Mirage

after the Handler takeover, Veracity was put under and made to take on continuous missions to prevent her from trying to wrestle control back; during this period, Mirage managed to convince Veracity to give her the wheel, since Veracity is about as queasy with killing as Emmy is with any kind of maiming

Mirage is much more proficient in their shared illusionist powers, and successfully fools her monitors into thinking she’s on another assignment when in reality, she gets herself to 1963 Dallas just in time to put a bullet through the Handler’s head

I feel like Veracity and Mirage have a 40-60 love-hate relationship. Veracity hates Mirage for dealing so many casualties in their shared body and being indifferent to Telepath and Emmy’s problems in the outside world, but on the flip side, it’s because of Mirage’s ruthlessness that they were able to survive -- had Mirage been a little kinder or let slip she cared for Telepath and Emmy, they would’ve gotten an early "retirement" and wouldn’t be able to restructure the Commission like they wanted

and I almost forgot, at one point (before Veracity/Mirage was molded into a model assassin), the Handler had them buried alive in an attempt to kill them; had Mirage not created an illusion to manipulate people into freeing them, they would’ve been declared dead

it’s because of this incident (and a few other attempts) that the Handler that she needed to exhaust their power before they could be killed. otherwise, no matter what method of execution she tries, Mirage would always have an illusion ready to protect themselves

Lila and Veracity never meet, but after Mirage takes place as head of the Commission, she personally goes to Lila to offer her condolences at her mother’s death (she taunts the other woman until Lila throws a cup at her). she’s also the one to offer Lila the choice to leave the Commission instead of plain old killing her (Veracity bullied her into agreeing)

I actually have a playlist for Mirage! it’s here if you wanna give it a listen

[strawp]

We read, “The Tempest”, in World Literature class and this was originally an assignment my teacher gave us.

We were to create our own alternate ending on what we think should have happened.

I spent a whole ass week on this bitch and poured my HEART and SOUL into it. It came out to ten pages in google docs. I’ll be damned if only my teacher sees this.

———————————————————————

Let’s Pluck the Petals, One by One

( Exit FERDINAND and MIRANDA )

Once my daughter and Ferdinand left to go inside the cell, I turned around to briskly put some distance between us. Once sure that no one was around nor would hear me, I quietly called out for my most diligent servant.

“Come with a thought, I thank thee, Ariel: Come,” I muttered. I waited patiently for the subtle change in the air, signifying Ariel’s presence. Not a moment later, a semi-transparent figure appeared before me.

“Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?” Ariel had said in their raspy voice.

“Spirit, we must prepare for Caliban’s entrance. Where is it that you said you left them?”

“I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking. I left them in the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell.” They answered. I had to strain my hearing to catch what they said. Air spirits like Ariel are known for their drifting voices, so subtle you’ll wonder if someone was actually there. But just like the wind, their voices can be thunderous and strike as sharp as a whip.

“Well done, my bird,” I whisper. With that, Ariel vanished or perhaps they are still there. I never know. But that matter’s naught for soon, my long-awaited revenge will be set into place.

“I will plague them all,” I promise. I gaze upon the seamless blue sky, only looking away when I hear the quiet shuffle of several feet. I cloak myself in invisibility and wait for what will undoubtedly be the stealth mission of three incompetent cows.

“Tread carefully, we’re in his territory now,” Caliban warns. All three are soaked to the bone and stink to the high heavens.

“Monster, everything smells like horse-piss. I smell like horse piss! My nose would like compensation.” One of the bumbling idiots remarked, face scrunched in great displeasure. He had short brown hair and walked with a slight hunch. His hands cycled through different fidgets, from twiddling his thumbs to swinging them. Other than his short stature, there was nothing to write home about.

“I second that. You hear me, Monster?” Nitwit number three added. This fellow was taller than the other twit with a bit of a gut hanging out, surely due to his relationship with alcohol. From what Ariel had told me, this one planned to kill me, take possession of this island, and marry my daughter. Hah!-What a ludicrous dream!

What he said seemed to have struck a chord in that deformed slave of mine’s head as they stopped entirely to look back at number three.

“My lord, please place trust in me. Be patient for the prize shall make this worth it,” Caliban practically begged. It seems they’ve found a new master. No matter, if all goes to plan I won’t need them anymore.

“Fine. But to lose our bottles in the pool–” started Short-stack.

“Is disgraceful and dishonorable, Monster. An infinite loss on our end” finished the alcoholic. Both crossed their arms and sported disgruntled expressions. To be so affected by the mere loss of a beverage is pathetic.

“Quiet!” Whisper-yelled Caliban. “We are at the mouth of his cell now: speak none and enter.”

I rolled my eyes. “Too little, too late,” I thought. This is the most pitiful assassination attempt I have ever seen.

“If we succeed, this island will be ours forever,” Caliban boldly claimed.

“This, ‘Prospero’, won’t know what hit him,” the drunkard smirked. Like anyone would ever feel threatened by that.

They only managed to take two steps each before Ariel and I intercepted them. Ariel sent ferocious winds their way, strong enough for them to stumble, while I manipulated the very ground they stood on into something unstable. While they were preoccupied with the elements, I directed some of the surrounding animals towards them. Once they spotted the army of animals coming their way, they scrambled, tripping over one another in their haste. They were utterly clueless as to what was happening.

“We shall let the animals hunt them for now. Soon my labors will come to an end and you will be free,” I inform Ariel. I turn to them, now opaque enough for me to see them. “Say, my spirit, what is the state of the king and his followers?”

“They are the same as you left them,”

“Go release them. I will break the charms and restore their senses,”

“I’ll go fetch them, sir”

With that, I turn around to begin the process of making the magic circle with my staff. I draw one large circle big enough to fit four grown men and add a liner that is three inches inside the circle. Next, I carved out an upside-down isosceles triangle with an eye in the center. Between the inner and outer circles, I scrawl out the necessary runes to cast my spell. Once done, I stand back to begin the chant.

“U have bedimm’d the noontide sun, call’d forth the miltinous winds, and ‘twixt the green sea. And the azured vault set roaring war by my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure, and, when I have required some heavenly music, which even now I do. To work mine end upon their senses that this airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff.”

Not a second later, Ariel reappears with my captives: Alonso, Gonzalo, Sebastian, and Antonio. They stand frozen in the magic circle, dazed and confused. Finally, the time has come. Still under invisibility, I stand before all of them and lock eyes with Gonzalo, even if he does not know that.

“Good Gonzalo, my true preserver, I will pay back with my word and deed.” He was the only one to show me compassion and aided me in my escape from the mainland. He is a better man than anyone on this island.

I move on with distaste to Alonso, a grimace set. “Most cruel of you to use me and my daughter; your brother even more foul in action.” This is the wretched man who officiated my exile from so long ago yet so clear in my mind. Never will I grace him the respect I once held for him.

For Alonso’s brother, I greet him with disdain and repulsion to what he has become. “Your existence has deteriorated since we last saw each other, Sebastian.” Arguably the worst of the two siblings. His life was set, having been born into royalty, but he greedily wanted more than what was handed to him.

Finally, I face my brother. Merely looking at him fills me with a spiral of emotions, circulating between resentment and betrayal. I pointedly ignore the bitterness that bubbles in my throat like acid. He has shown what he thinks of me and I have no obligation towards him.

“Brother of mine, through flesh and blood, you and Sebastian sought out to commit a dastardly plan for your benefit.” And with that, I finally reveal myself. Once spotting my face, Antonio and Alonso go pale in the face, though the former flinches back as well. Sebastian lets out a gasp while Gonzalo widens his eyes tenfold.

“I am not sure if I am under an enchantment or not but I fear madness has taken over me! The duke I had resigned all those years ago, Prospero, stands before me! How is it that you are alive and before us now?” Alonso exclaims. I raise one eyebrow at his reaction before turning to Gonzalo.

“Gonzalo, my noble friend, let me embrace you for the help you gave me. Your honor cannot be measured for there are no bounds to it.” Gonzalo’s eyes have since returned to their natural size and he gives me a tiny smile.

“Whether this is real or not, my actions are not worthy of such high praise.” He responds. Always the humble man I see, even after all this time. A stray thought of what if he was our king instead of our current one pops up before I push it aside. What has been done cannot be undone after all.

With a snap of my fingers, I send a message via magic to Antonio and Sebastian. “I know.” Just those two simple words had them stricken with terror, blood seemingly no longer circulating in their faces from how white they had gotten. “I can tell His Highness of your attempted treason at any given moment.” I sneer. It’s truly entertaining to see them sweat like pigs under my power. I end my message there, not merciful enough to give them closure of my decision.

“THE DEVIL! The Devil has come before us in the body of Prospero to haunt us for our sins!” Sebastion wails. I scoff and roll my eyes. As if The Devil would bother with the likes of them.

“I can assure you I am not such,” I say.

“How? How is it that you stand before us?” Alonso persists.

I finally turn to look at him, looking deep into his still-widened eyes. “My daughter and I have resided here for years, ever since that fateful day you cast me out.” I keep my face as neutral as possible as I respond, giving no inch of emotion. We lock into a staring contest until Alonso looks down, shame is written on his face, shame that I relish in before his eyebrows shoot up.

“Have you seen my son? Earlier, our boat was wrecked by a sea storm, and my son, Ferdinand, has been missing since! He has short brown hair, a little bit taller than myself, and was wearing a purple tunic.” He exclaims in desperation.

Bull’s eye. I tilt my head and look to the corner of my vision, caressing my chin in fake contemplation.

“I do believe so.”

“Is that true? This is a miracle-”

“But whoever said I will return him to you?”

Alonso stops in his tracks, taken aback.

“Pardon?” he says, not believing his ears.

“Whoever said I will return him to you?”

“But why? Why are you doing this? Have you no morals to keep a man’s son from his father!”

“Tell me why I should return the man who exiled me’s son?” I place my arms behind my back and go through a series of hand signals, telling Ariel to bring over Miranda and Ferdinand.

The hope from hearing my confirmation was just as quickly snuffed out, my response leaving him in a state of shock. I know Antonio and Sebastian would not dare speak so that only Gonzalo was left. I turned to look at him once more, daring him to say anything. Gonzalo’s eyebrows creased in deep thought, taking one more look at my face, and he must have found something because he backed down. Finally, I turn back to Alonso, ready to give him a piece of my mind.

“You aided Antonio in usurping my title. Not only did you unfairly strip me of my position but had also exiled me from my home. You cast not only I but my daughter out as well, who had nothing to do with anything except for sharing my blood.”

Alonso looked like he wanted to say something, but I did not give him the chance. No longer will I be silenced. I grab him by the collar and get close to his face.

“For twelve years, I have lived on this island. For twelve years, I have kept my daughter in the dark. FOR TWELVE YEARS, I have pondered on why you did what you did. SO WHY? WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME?” I screamed the last bit.

Yet, all he seems to be able to do is stare wide-eyed at me, as though a deer caught by surprise. He opens his mouth but only a weak strangled noise comes out. With that, I let go of him. He falls ungracefully on his arse with a face as pale as paper and sweat absolutely oozing off of him. It’s as though his brain has completely shut off.

What a pathetic excuse of a man, let alone a king.

I bring my attention back to the other three men. After seeing what I did to Alonso; Antonio and Sebastian both take steps back while Gonzalo looks on with an unreadable expression. Just then, Miranda and Ferdinand appear, hand-in-hand. Ferdinand, once spotting his father, hurries over to him and kneels down to cup his father’s face in his hands.

“Father? Why are you sitting on the ground?” He asks in concern. For now, I’ll stand to the side, no point intervening when they’ve already seen each other.

“Son…?” Alonso whispers, voice soft and unsure. “Are you really real?”

“Of course I am real! Did the tempest damage your head when you went under? Do you need medical attention?” Ferdinand worried. Alonso’s bottom lip trembled before he engulfed his son in a tight hug.

“Do not worry for your old man, I’m just so glad you’re alright! When I woke up and you were nowhere in sight, I looked for you for hours but couldn’t find you! I-I really thought you had died!” They sat there on the dirty floor, huddled together in a hug filled with tears and disgusting snot.

Wow. How sad.

Suddenly, this emotional(awkward) moment was broken when Ferdinand jumped back from Alonso’s arms, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Interesting.

“Oh goodness! I nearly forgot!”

“What? What is it?” A severely dumbfounded Alonso asked.

Ferdinand hurried over to us and took Miranda’s hand, practically dragging her over to his father.

“Father, I have found my soulmate! my Juliet! my apple-of-my-eye, my sweetheart, my darling, my dearest, my snuggles, my treasure, my sweetie, my-”

“YES, YES! I understand! This is amazing, who is this young lady?”

“Her name is Miranda and she is the daughter of the Duke of Miland, Prospero,” He cheerfully announced.

The amount of time it took, or the lack of it, for Alonso’s face to drop from a proud smile to mortification was absolutely hilarious. I pride myself on my poker face but there was no way I could wipe off the laughter wiggling on my lips.

“Oh…that’s great, son,” He said in a perplexed tone.

“Our time together has been the utmost joyous! Her laugh is like church bells chiming, her smile as blinding as the sun. She is a worthy chess opponent with a beautiful mind. She’s sweeter than honey but as stubborn as a mule. Isn’t she just perfect?”

Alonso has sucked in his bottom lip and a tight smile graces his aged face but he nods his head yes anyways.

“It was love at first sight, I just knew we would get along! Father, I wish to marry this girl.”

And there we go. Alonso has receded into his neck, strained smile still present, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and still nodding away.

“I’m so glad you approve, Dad!”

Well, it’s only natural. There was no other choice, not with me sending him telepathically promises of death via eye contact. At this point, I couldn't care less if I was given a high position due to my daughter’s marriage. Just the thought that I will forever be a thorn in Alonso’s side brings me pure delight-

A knife comes flying at me from behind, grazing my cheek but otherwise, misses. Adrenaline courses through my body and I quickly turn around. I step to the side mere seconds before a hulking figure pounces where I once was.

It’s Caliban.

Rid of his trench cloak, his grotesque figure is bared for all to see. Along his spine protrudes spikes. Scales meld with his skin atop of his forearms and the sides of his neck. Sharp points junt out of his elbows. Fingertips end in sharp talons but no nails. His legs are bent like that of a dragon’s hind legs but instead of toes, he has three webbed claws. His body, defined yet gaunt at the same time, limbs too bony in places to be natural.

He stands from his pounce, coming to his full height of seven feet. He turns around and the first thing I see are his too-sharp teeth and prominent bottom fangs. Around his eyes are more scales and his once white sclera has glossed over with black. His hair, normally flat and greasy, is pricked up like a lion’s mane. He lets out a low growl and his face is pinched in rage, eyes piercing right into my soul. I feel a full body shiver and cold sweat slides down my face.

He lunges towards me once more with great speed, hand outstretched to no doubt maul my face. Were I less experienced, I would have surely died. But I’m not. Just as Caliban gets mere inches away from my face, chains emerge from the ground to restrain his arms and neck. He kicks out his foot in a last ditch attempt to wound me but I step just out of reach. With his mobility compromised, he is powerless.

“Caliban…what is the meaning of this?”

“By God’s blood will I have your head!” He snarls.

“A claw mark for each breath, a bite for every material you’ve used, a burn for every cruel command, and broken bones for every year you’ve occupied MY island!” He roared, fiercely pulling against the restraints.

“Tch,” With a snap of my fingers, I create a muzzle and fix it onto his face with magic. No way would I come close to him in this state.

“I care naught for your feelings but if you must know, I won’t be on this island for much longer,” I say. I slide my eyes over to Alonso and with quick steps, I take his hands into mine.

“Alonso, isn’t it joyous that out children have found love with one another?” I tell him with a sickly sweet smile. I raise a finger to my cheek, “This is Miranda’s first love, she has never before been so enraptured in another individual.” I remark.

I peer down at him, “Despite our conflict, I do not believe that our children should be weighed down by our differences.” I grit out. “Why don’t we call a truce so that our dearest children may be happy, mh?”

“I-” I send him my most venomous glare, daring him to rebuke.

“But of course! Anything for Ferdinand’s beloved!” He desperately shouts, looking close to tears.

“Wonderful that you agree. We shall set out tomorrow to go back to the mainland.” I conclude.

“Hold it right there!” Caliban bellows, having chewed right through the muzzle.

“I ain’t just gonna let you walk scott free! I ain’t done with you until you’re a bloody mess on the floor and six feet below!”

“What a pity, that won’t ever happen,” I sing-song.

“That ain’t for you to decide. I won’t rest until-”

I cast a simple sleep spell on him. He drops unconscious as quickly as a fly, the sound of his head hitting the ground resounds in spite of how empty it is.

This whole ordeal has dragged on for so long that the sun has begun to set, our golden ball of heat slowly retreating into the ocean.

“Now, since it is becoming dark, why don’t we retire for the night?” I announce. The other’s agree without complaint so we start setting up camp.

I assign each person a job. Ferdinand and Miranda go to fetch water from my cell. Gonzalo begins making a fire for us, figures he’s the only one to know how to make one from the guests. I instruct Antonio and Sebastian to go fishing for dinner mostly because they are no good for anything else. Alonso and I are left to set up the tents, avoiding one another as much as we can. Once Antonio and Sebastian come back with their catches, I look over them for any signs of poisoning, finding none.

Dinner is a silent affair except for Ferdinand and Miranda who insist on feeding each other. After, we extinguish the fire and settle for bed. I go into the woods to take a leak before slumber. Over time, I have grown used to the night and have developed a sense of awareness of objects.

On the way, I bump into someone. He lets out a small scream and I instantly know who it is.

“Dramatic, much?” I say in a clipped tone. I don’t let him respond before I move past.

Once a good distance away, I press my back against a tree and palm at my racing heart. Everyday for twelve years, he has been on my mind. Everyday for twelve years, I held nothing but resentment.

Except that’s a lie.

A lie that I’ve built up to elude myself of my true feelings of hurt.

I hate him…that much is true. I hate him for what he did to me. I hate him for his betrayal. But I cannot deny the bitterness that floods my mouth with every thought of him. I long for the days of childhood, when we played tag with each other cause we only had each other. I remember the bright-eyed Antonio who looked up to me as his older brother, who begged for a piggy-back ride. I miss my brother, my sweet little brother who gave me half of his cookie to cheer me up.

I hate his betrayal but I always wondered why he did so. Was it out of his own greed for power? Or was it because of me? Was I not good enough? Did something happen to him that I failed to notice? Did I fail him like I failed our parents?

These thoughts were always there but I banished them to the back of my mind, too cowardly to face them. I didn’t want to know the answer and now I’ll never know.

Earlier, I felt powerful seeing the fear in his eyes but now, acid forces its way through my throat. I inflicted that fear. I made him fearful. When we bumped into one another just moments ago, he flinched away.

My little brother is afraid of me.

My hands fly to cover my mouth and my teeth sink down onto my bottom lip to contain my sob. My legs giveaway and I slide flat on my arse, knees pressed close to my chest. My tears slide down my face like a waterfall and my face scrunches in anguish of what I’ve become. I muffle my sobs as best as I can but come to a complete stop when I hear faint footsteps and voices.

“Are you sure about this?”

My eyebrows shoot up. That’s Ferdinand’s voice!

“Yes, yes I am,”

Miranda! But what are they doing at this time? Everyone else should be sleeping.

“I just don’t understand why you are going through with this. Aren’t you at least a little angry at your father for putting a love spell on us?”

My eyes fly open and I stop breathing. When had the spell worn off?!

“No, I don’t.” Miranda spoke softly.

“But how? He manipulated you for his own benefit!”

“That may be true but my love for him outweighs any anger inside me. He tried his all in giving me a normal childhood. He called me his, ‘Little Princess’, and was the best father I could have asked for. So I want to return the favor. I want to make him happy, like he does for me.”

A fresh wave of tears fell at those words spoken so softly by my daughter. Her words break me in a way only a parent could understand.

I wish Miranda wasn’t my daughter. I wish she had a father who loved her unconditionally, who wouldn’t set her under a love spell for their own selfish desire. She deserves more than I am.

If only I was a better father, a better man.

But I’m not.

I sit behind the tree some more, reflecting on the past few years and today. I think of all the pain I caused, all the things I ruined in the name of my revenge. Finally, I stood up having made up my mind.

My reflection had taken the entire night as it seems as the sun began to peak above the ocean. I walk to my cell and retrieve my knife.

One last thing to do.

“My Ariel, chick, to the elements. Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near.” I whisper

And with that, I collapse to my knees.

I breathe in. Once. Twice.

And I pierce the knife into my stomach.

[daisytarget]

Literally have had this written for MONTHS now. We're on the same wavelength to such a degree it's concerning.

[IMAGE ID: a screenshot from google docs in dark mode. The page reads: "the sniper." and has a poem that reads as follows:

you know how people usually end up saying, "I don't bite!" as a way to disarm, relax, attract?

I have never been in a situation where that phrase would attract the object of my attention. I am surrounded by teeth in the best of ways, the way in a war you don't want someone safe next to you.

I usually, unfortunately, against my own will, find myself in situations where I am in a war of sorts against things the others find me too stupid to explain it all to. situations where biting is essential to my survival.

Bite through rope,

Bite through the pain,

Bite through my tongue,

Bite through skin,

Bite through distraction

Bite through the scream

Bite through the memory

Bite through my own jaw if I could.

I've bitten my way through mind control, an alien invasion, multiple circus acts, and at least one assassination attempt on my life, and I think, hope, believe that I'm better for it. That I prove myself. That I'm worthy of the teeth surrounding me. That I could understand it if someone took the time to explain.

END IMAGE ID.]

Clint “My friends think I like to fight, but it’s just not true. Sometimes I lose my temper and blow of a little steam, but I’ve never enjoyed it. I’m not a violent dog. I don’t know why I bite.” Barton

[chromosome23hq]

MAY 2, 1998. SYRACRUSE, NEW YORK.

MISSION OBJECTIVE: through ezra shaw’s (@smitebound) guidance, martha seong  (@marthaseong) and finley walsh (@finlcyxwalsh) are sent to end the life of congressman christopher masten because he accepted funding from anti-mutant lobbyists, as well as took an anti-mutant stance. they must kill him before he reaches a luncheon where he will announce his idea for people identifying themselves as mutants or non-mutants when they enter establishments. (click here for the google doc version!)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: death, violence, car crash

the ride has been mostly quiet, the only sound finley walsh's able to process being the blood pumping in her ears. of all the people to get put with on this mission, martha is probably the least ideal, but at least she's not mark. she has yet to find a reason, or lack there of, to distrust her, and that counts for something. all she can do is hope that her tip landed, and christopher masten was well on his way out of the hotel. until then, all she could do was try and keep her head empty, and spin the little ring on her finger around to keep the anxiety at bay.

when she told daichi she preferred assassinations, it wasn’t a request to be put on a mission to carry one out. and with a neophyte, no less! this was exactly the kind of babysitting she declined to do. with a huff, and a foot pressing heavier on the gas pedal, she decides she was going to have some words with him, after all of this was done — after she kills poor masten and serves up his head on a platter. remembering her companion, martha seong turns her head to the side, eyes off the road and onto her new partner-in-crime. “this isn’t your first time, is it?” she asks, with a playful grin and her sing-song voice, referring to murder. oh, she hoped this one wouldn’t be trouble! she can’t handle someone screaming and crying and making too much of a mess.

it's martha's voice that breaks finley's trance. she almost prefers the silence, but what ground does he have to make requests? none, actually, she can answer that question for herself. she has to wonder if she can maintain her acting skills with stakes this high, but if there was ever a time to play the most convincing version of the evil side of her soul, today was the day. her first time at an assassination attempt? yes. and, hopefully the last. "technically, yes." she had watched ezra and sela torment at least one person in her few weeks in the brotherhood, but she had never bloodied her own hands. not that she would start today. "you?"

martha gives her a softer smile, pretending to feel sympathetic. well, fuck, she thinks. masten isn’t just some guy they’re accosting in an alley behind nyx. he’ll have people, security — an entourage of no less than ten. and they’re putting this mission on her and a girl who was never killed before? what were they expecting from martha? was this a test? a punishment? it’s not like she was gone for that long! three months — that’s barely a vacation. “no,” was her straight answer. she doesn’t care to elaborate. maybe they can have a sleepover and martha can list all the people she’s killed and felt die. maybe. “it’s terrifying, at first—” martha feels safe to assume finley wasn’t like ezra or mark, that she isn’t bloodhungry “—it’s worse when they beg. and they always do. even the worst of people cower in the face of death. it’s a bit funny, actually! you know, after you get over the whole killing a person thing. but, you can’t hesitate.” the car takes a sharp turn left, as the miles between them and masten diminish. “i mean, it’s fine, we don’t keep report cards,” she frowns, “i think. not betty, at least—mark is a bit obsessive. he likes to evaluate people. i wish he’d evaluate me,” she remarks, offhandedly, looking back at the road. “but, you believe in the mission and the cause, don’t you?” she asks, quirking a brow as she glances back at her.

she doesn’t know martha from adam. and, after mark, she’s learned not to trust the kindness any of them extend. she can make conversation, but she needs to hold her cards close to her chest. still, she won’t lie, and make herself out to be interested in playing out a live action version of the most dangerous game with non-mutants. she has no interest in killing, and she’s never done it. it was obvious enough to look at her and know that without hesitation. she didn’t need to try and convince anyone otherwise. “he’s picky, he’d probably have a few opinions,” finley mutters. she’s not his biggest fan, and he’s certainly not hers. thank god they’re not on this mission together. “of course,” finley responds without hesitation, “i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t.” if nothing else, lying was a skill she was going to pick up from all of this.

“so you’ve met.” the grin returns on her face, bubbling with genuine amusement at the thought. her answer was enough to satisfy martha — but then again, martha wasn’t one to really care. good, she thinks. when you had a rhyme and reason, it was easier not to walk away with guilt and regret. and the girl had some resolve. it’s apparent she was nervous, but her voice did not quake nor waver. martha takes that as a good sign! and an excuse not to tap into her mind and anticipate her actions. that would be too exhausting — she never knows what she gets subjected to. brotherhood members aren’t exactly known for having neutral, consumable thoughts. always, there was something crazy to behold. “hold on to that, and it’ll be easier.” she thinks. maybe. who knows! if it comes to it, martha will have to calm her down. another sharp turn and they find themselves in town. the hotel was already visible from where they are, peeking through the block of buildings they still had to drive through. “they will start with welcoming drinks in half an hour. do you want to stop by anywhere first?” she turns back to finley, inspecting her — making sure she looks the part of a political science intern interested in politics from a very young age. “or are you good to go?”

for all the money xavier has invested in the school, she figures some of it should have gone to a better communication system for this whole thing. she doesn't know what's landed, and she doesn't even know if someone knows where they are for a fact. but, with the offer to go off the beaten path that they're expected to follow, finley can't take the risk. "good advice," she says with a slow nod, acting like she's absorbing this for all that it's worth. and, as much as she wants to tell martha to stop somewhere so she can empty the contents of her stomach, cold blooded murders don't get their stomach in a twist before an assassination. "no, i'm good to go." she smooths out the blazer she's been put in as gently as she can behind the seatbelt across her chest. of course they use her to look prim and proper, at least she's of use in some regards for them.

martha waits for another beat, just in case finley changes her mind. she wouldn’t be patient with anyone else, not any of veterans, certainly, but — these are the kind of moments you don’t forget. it’ll carve itself in your mind forever. it’ll chase you — for days, weeks, months, or years — even in your sleep. martha would know, it did the same to her. it might be for the cause. masten might be an inglorious fucking bastard. but it was a weight on your conscience. a mark on your soul. if you had one left, that is. so, she waits. while she liked to fuck around, martha knows these people — the brotherhood — are here for a reason. and that reason wasn’t because they wanted to be. most of the time, it was because they had to. with seemingly no one else to protect them, it feels like the only choice. martha believes it was the only choice. “alright,” she finally says, “here we go! your first assassination. how fun! maybe we can get some ice cream after. as a reward.” the seconds passes in silence, as the hotel grows larger and larger before them. the mirth on her face is slowly replaced with practiced seriousness. a mask crafted for the benefit of the mission. she pulls the fake prescription glasses from the dashboard and places them on. turning to finley, she asks, “how do i look?” as the car enters the driveway, gradually pulling over the entrance.

finley didn’t really know what was coming when they crossed over the hill. maybe she should have said yes to stopping if only to give matsen more time to bail. but, too little too late now. truth be told, she wasn’t too thrilled on the idea of saving someone who thought so lowly of people, but what good would killing him do? all it did was lead to more chaos and more hatred. something dramatic would have to happen in order for the brotherhood to ever win just by picking people off one by one. of course, none of this could be said out loud, and one could only hope she wasn’t projecting these thoughts straight into martha’s brain. with a tense smile and nod, finley acknowledges her excitement of the accolade, the offer of ice cream making this whole thing feel so… benign. finley glances martha’s direction, newly adorned glasses perched on her nose. “very smart. science-y,” finley offered. she glances up at the entrance of the hotel in all its grandiose glory. “are we ready?” whether the question was for her or the both of them was anyones guess.

martha only answers with a smile. ready or not, they are here. the curtain has lifted, the spotlight has been cast. there’s no turning back. and she hopes finley understands that. “it’s showtime, baby.” the engine grunts to a halt, as she pulls the key from the ignition and opens the door. a valet helps her out, exchanging pleasantries with her before he takes the key. martha doesn’t look back or wait for finley to follow. she saunters inside the hotel lobby, poised and graceful, determined to do a job and to do it well. 

but once she’s inside, she feels something off. a well-dressed man, and a gaggle of staffers, walks past her, heading out of the hotel. odd — that’s a consultant, a lobbyist. why is he leaving? she didn’t look back, instead continues on, as if she thinks nothing was out of order. her mind opens and a chorus of voices crescendos. she sifts through each thought, all the while continuing to walk towards the venue, taking answers instead of asking for them. cancelled… left… emergency… son. 

masten is gone. 

her jaw tightens. someone must have tipped him off. this was an important luncheon. potentially a million in donations to his campaign. he won’t have just left. his son would have to be on his last breath. martha wants to turn around, alert finley of the fact. but then… 

finley. finley, finley, finley. it’s the anxiety that courses through her. martha would have dismissed it as normal — she was out here to kill someone for the first time. but her thoughts. god! are they loud. charles fucking xavier should have at least trained these idiots to mask better!

martha doesn't let it show on her face. that she knows. and everything she’s about to do to her. instead, she walks on, mind searching for a blindspot. “we need to check our exits,” she lies — in a way finley wouldn’t be able to doubt. she turns towards an empty hallway, walking with purpose, fists clenched. when they reach the end, martha turns, the mirthful grin returning to greet finley. “you fucking bitch,” she hisses, as her mind grapples finley’s. like vines stretched around her brain, effectively taking control. she makes her feel pain, like each nerve below her waist is being stretched and strained, until finley can no longer stand. “you tipped him off. you tipped masten off.” now they’re going to have to find him! a deviation in a perfectly good plan! sure, she likes spontaneity. but not with jobs she didn’t enjoy doing! “roll up your sleeves, darling. cause i’m about to put you to work.”

finley checks the clock on the dashboard before the engine is killed. masten should be leaving any second if the tip landed. now or never. she climbs out of the passenger seat, falling a few paces behind martha as they enter the hotel, bustling with people left and right. but, as quickly as they enter, a stream of people exit, and finley feels like a weight is lifted from her shoulders. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s masten’s team. black suits swiftly exiting the building before anyone can say a word on the matter. they’re in the clear. she just has to make it back to headquarters, deal with whatever consequence they’ll get for letting him slip by, and bail out of there before anyone can catch wind of who she is or what she’s done. maybe, just maybe, it would all be fine! 

martha summons her to do an exit check— it feels odd seeing as they haven’t even done any sort of scan of the crowd yet, but finley knows it’s not her place to ask questions. especially as she tries to lean into her ignorance and nerves. just follow the leader, and make it out alive, she tells herself.

they tread down a long hallway, martha’s pace obnoxiously quick for someone who wants to check their get away route— whether they’ll need it or not. and, as finley opens her mouth to mention they had passed the stairwell already, martha whips around to face her with a look that makes finley’s blood run cold. and then there’s the pain. it coils around her, white hot heat shooting through her limbs. she can’t even scream from the intensity of the pain, collapsing onto the carpeted floor with a soft thud as she curls in on herself to no avail. the pain is rooted in whatever martha is doing to her, and it will not let up.

“i— i didn’t,” finley forces out voice tight as she tries her best to writhe in pain, but her body no longer feels like her own. she reaches for her powers somewhere in her mind, something to defend herself with and get martha off of her, but she just can’t. she can’t move, and it’s somehow more terrifying than any other aspect. being completely out of control of her own body.

“martha, please,” finley begs. whether it’s a last ditch effort to swear her false allegiance or to spare her from whatever comes next is beyond finley’s comprehension. she can only think about the searing pain keeping her pinned to the carpet floor of the hotel.

martha only laughs at her pleas. the sound of it was humorless — almost pained. a part of her, buried deep in her subconscious, doesn’t want to do this. but what else can she do? she can’t abandon the mission. and she can’t let a traitor — a xavier spy — off the hook. if you get red on your ledger, you pay for it. she looks down on finley, watching her writhe in pain. “please? okay. since you’re asking so nicely.” but when the pain stops, finley will find that all her sensations would, too. she’s only along for the ride, with martha on the wheel. “get up,” martha instructs. but finley can’t. “what’s wrong? get up.” and when finley still can’t move, martha sighs. “alright, alright. i’ll help you.” it’s only then that finley stands, completely out of her own volition. she doesn’t need a demonstration. by now, finley understands what was happening. but martha still wants to show her. she presses her own hands together and, like a mirror, finley does the same. “alright, time to show me what you can do, missy! let’s find masten. and, as a little prize for being a smart little cunt, you get to kill him.” martha’s grin is almost diabolical, eyes wide with what looked like glee. but only anger burns hot beneath the surface. she finds no joy in this. she wishes finley just stuck to the script. 

it’s obvious to finley that her cover is blown at this point. she knows everything, and it’s all her own undoing. and now she’s stuck here, the fibers of the carpet rubbing unforgivingly through the fabric of her pants as she is completely at martha’s mercy. the pain begins to subside some, the dull ache of her body coming down from the shooting pain still there for a moment before everything goes blank. there is no white hot pain, there is no ache, and there is no feeling. it’s as if someone had turned of everything in her body other than the course of her own thoughts. she feels paralyzed. martha taunts her, telling her to get up, stand up and no matter how much finley wills her body to move she stays on the floor unmoving and out of control of her body. and then martha speaks and her body springs into action like some remote controlled robot, standing with ease, like nothing had happened. she does not have to control for the fear to shake her body, but she can feel the terror washing over her in waves as martha speaks. “no,” finley croaks, unable to shake her head, “no i don’t— i can’t.”

but whatever link martha had bonded them together with worked, at least at her will, both ways. all finley needs is a location. that’s all she’s ever needed to successfully get from point a to point b. and martha does not hesitate to provide her with that. it hasn’t been that long, they haven’t made it all that far from the hotel, and she wishes there was anything she could do to give them more time. but she can see masten in her mind, and under martha’s influence, the gap begins to close. before she knows it, they’re standing in the middle of some backroad, the darkened hallway replaced by afternoon sun streaming through tree leaves. and the rush of an oncoming car can be heard not too far up the road, a short line of black vehicles rounding the blind corner behind which martha and finley stand. martha doesn’t move, and so neither can finley. the ever familiar sound of squealing tires and crunching metal hit finley like a freight train. if she could collapse, she would have right then in there, as unwanted memories float through her mind. she can’t tell if it’s her or martha making those happen. 

there’s a lack of movement from most of the vehicles. the impact must have been enough to, at best, knock a few members of the convoy out. at worst… well, the blood on finley’s hands wouldn’t just be masten’s. “haven’t we done enough? we’ve scared him, i’m sure. why do we— why do i have to kill him? don’t make me do this, i can’t do this.” she doesn’t care how pathetic the begging sounds, her voice straining through every word to reach some sort of pathos within martha. she knows it won’t work deep down, that it’s all just prolonging the inevitable if she’s lucky. but, she has to try anything to prevent this.

martha almost wavers — almost. finley’s memories, flashes of an accident martha wasn’t even there for, burns crisp and sharp inside her mind. she’s so intricately linked to finley that she sees everything finley sees, feels everything finley feels. as if it were her memories, her emotions. she almost wavers.

but martha’s own words echo inside her head. you can’t hesitate 

you believe in the mission and the cause, don’t you?

hold on to that, and it’ll be easier.

stop them, she instructs, before any of masten’s security detail could weakly draw out their guns and point it at the pair. knock them unconscious — a job better done by her. but finley was fighting. she can’t risk losing her grip on finley’s mind, even by a small amount. walk. their steps sync together, left foot first and then the right. they walk side by side, passing the first car, and move on to the second. right where masten was.

four people. two in the front — unconscious. masten and his chief of staff in the back — barely conscious. she steps back and finley forward. open the door. pull him out.

once he was on the pavement, masten coughs and sputters. the deep gash on his head bleeds, the red trickling down his face. words — pleas to spare his life — leaves his mouth in unintelligible mumbles. martha doesn’t listen, although she understands everything running through his mind, clear as the sky above them. she sees every memory flashing inside his head, as the realization that he would be breathing his last breath slowly sinks in.

mercy. for a moment, she thinks she should spare him some. spare finley some, too. but, no. they need to learn a lesson.

“kill him. now.”

there is nothing more horrifying to her than being out control of her own body. every instinct in her is screaming to stop— this is wrong, they have families and children. they’re people for god’s sake. just like her. and here she is being forced to fling them aside, discarded without so much as a wave of her hand. it makes her stomach churn. 

all finley needs is for someone to show up. any of the omegas. just someone to get her out of the mess she had gotten herself in to. but with every step they took, and every command that martha forced on her, finley’s hope dwindled. 

against her own volition, she pulls masten from the car, still dazed from the accident. blood stains the side of his face seeping into the collar of his shirt as finley drops him onto the roadway despite herself. she knows what’s coming. martha has every intention to complete their mission whether finley’s a willing participant or not. and, she is not. 

that doesn’t stop the begging even as her body betrays her and moves forward on martha’s command. some part of her body burns, the now familiar crackle of electricity at her fingertips, but it’s more violent than usual. as if her abilities are, too, rejecting the action she’s being forced to take. 

it’s the agonized scream that truly makes finley’s mind shut down. it’s as if everything is underwater. she feels like she’s floating just as much as she is drowning, and then there’s organs, human organs, splayed across the pavement and the screaming has stopped but it doesn’t make anything better. 

she’s seen a dead body before. this early on, they just seem to be asleep, but in a few minutes, he’ll get cold and pale, and it’ll be an agonizing way for his family to see him, chest torn, organs dislodged from their homes all because of finley

a part of her wants to scream, but she can’t even find air to breathe, let alone her voice. all she can do is stare and hyperventilate in hopes that maybe she’ll pass out, and be spared by any further torture that martha wishes to give her.

he had opted to be with masten, to have the other man by his side so that he could personally protect him. but the other didn't trust han-byul song, he just shook his head and said that his own personal guards will protect him, that han-byul should just focus on capturing the assassins. of course, how splendid. 

he's in his own car, watching from afar, waiting for someone to come out, to at least see finley in one piece. and while he does see her, alongside the other brotherhood member, how they came to be and the situation itself all catches him off guard. his hands tighten around the wheel, the soda can in his car rattles in the cup holder before being completely crushed by his own ability. this isn't right, he thinks to himself, this doesn't feel right. something is wrong. and he's right, something is wrong, he just doesn't know that martha knows of finley as a spy and is currently controlling her. all he sees is martha standing beside finley who is getting ready to pull masten out of his car. at the same time, han-byul is getting out of his own car, not even worrying about closing the door on his way out. 

he doesn't shout, he doesn't tell them to stop, he doesn't even call finley's name. he knows that he's supposed to, he's been trained to negotiate, but you cannot negotiate with murderers like the brotherhood. each step brings a trembling to the space around them, the top of trash cans getting dented, light posts that shook and bend inwards, buildings that rattle with the force. and with each step and movement from finley with masten causes the trembles to intensify. 

but it's her next course of actions that sends han-byul punching the air. he doesn't expect finley of all people to do this, she's on their side, she gave charles xavier this information, and yet-- "stop!" he shouts, a bit late but it doesn't matter, he doesn't care, as the words are flying out of his mouth and his fist punches downwards. the trembling and rattling stops around him only focusing on the area around finley and martha. it's a crack in the air, the pressure, the gravity that forces them both down to their knees, invisible chains to keep them in place. it doesn't stop there as han-byul controls the gravity around himself, reducing the pull of gravity in order to sprint towards the duo, faster than ever and his fist pulled back and aimed towards martha. and as soon as he's done with her, he'll go after finley.

“fuck!” martha yelps, as her knees scrape against the concrete. her limbs feel heavy, pulled to the ground by an insurmountable force. she tries to reach for finley — the connection between them was severed, swiftly and suddenly — but she can’t move. when she attempts it, it feels like her skin is being torn apart. 

she needs to refocus — not on finley. but on their unwanted guest. with her mind free, it stretches open once again. going further and further out until it found him — han-byul song. an omega. 

of course. xavier was working with them. she saw him at the ball, saw the little dramatic play they executed towards the end. it was a warning — a warning the brotherhood only took as a challenge. martha should’ve known, should’ve anticipated this.

it comes in waves — the pain that travels from the tip of han-byul’s toes and shoots up his entire body. like every nerve is frayed; stretched and strained to its limit. she doesn’t know how strong han-byul is but martha doesn’t want to risk anything. she amplies the pain — a few times worse than what finley had felt. just to ensure he can’t meddle, as martha and finley make their escape.

once the force around them eases, martha quickly takes hold of finley’s mind. not waiting or wavering this time. they need to be gone, before the omega can do anything else. or, before the rest can appear.

take us back to the headquarters. she planted the image of their destination inside finley’s mind, and willed her to do the rest. 

she never thought she would feel relieved to come back to the brotherhood’s headquarters. her breath hitched, her heartbeat quickened. all the adrenaline had worn out, replaced by a psychological hangover. for a moment she forgot finley, until she noticed the other in her periphery. 

martha grabbed her by the shoulder and calmed her down. she manipulated finley’s emotions, until the distress fell to the back of her mind, until her breath evened out, until her eyes were empty. it made it easier for the next part — putting her to sleep. slowly, finley’s limbs gave out, as unconsciousness visited her. martha had to catch her, before her body could fall to the ground.

it's a moment of relief to hear someone else's voice, even if she looks extremely incriminated right now. her eyes are still trained downwards even as they approach. but, she knows it's probably one of the omegas. all her suspicions are confirmed when the world shakes, and they're dropped to their knees, the gravity in the air heavy. han-byul song— makes sense. but, she can't even bother to agonize over the weight of the world, because martha's out of her brain. her thoughts can be their own once again, and any consequence is worth it to keep it that way. 

of course, that relief is gone within moments, martha stopping han-byul in his tracks, and as quickly as she was gone, she's dug her fingers back into finley, taking over her mind, and subsequently, her abilities once more. headquarters. she's as good as dead once they get back there, and she'll be offering herself up like a lamb to the slaughter. and, with how incriminating this looks, there's no promise anyone would be stupid enough to try and come to her rescue again. 

she wants to make eye contact with han-byul, and plead with him, explain this wasn't her doing— she was no better than a puppet on a string at this point. but, she knows it's a matter of seconds before they're gone, and she's sealed to her fate. 

the side street is gone, and in a flash, they're standing in the brotherhood headquarters. it's still relatively quiet as people filter in from their own missions, but she can still feel panic gripping her chest. 

martha, still very much linked to her mind, must be able to tell as she drains any sort of fear and panic out of finley— certainly not out of kindness, but to keep her from thrashing, panicking, doing something stupid enough to break whatever connection she had created. and, once again, against her will, she's forced into a sleep. most likely the last peaceful one she'll ever have again.

ooc: so here we are! four people dead, and the brotherhood have uncovered a spy in their midst. the omegas and xavier will be in a flurry trying to withdraw april and isobel, but also find a way to get finley out of there. all the omegas and xavier students have now been made aware by professor xavier and han-byul about the three spies in the organization. the brotherhood will be searching for other traitors, while interrogating finley for all she knows and what she’s told. the only people who know where she is are magneto, betty, irena, and the top agents. her torture will be mainly handled by the top agent she was under, ezra.

even those outside of the groups can feel the tension bubbling under the surface. something’s coming—and no one will be spared when it finally boils over. 

be on the lookout for another plot drop coming later this may!

[gt-adventures]

The Ice Princess (summary/pitch)

So the Ice Princess is a fantasy comedy soap opera i came up with to exist in the world of Mystic Woods that Princess Sophia is OBSESSED with but as it grew in my mind, it became its own thing. though the show became populated by MW characters though altered heavily.

If you want to read my rambles about it on a google doc, its here but thats not GT specific. it doesnt mention giants at all really. Because the Ice Princess isnt a GT story, its a fantasy story. It just so happens that many of the characters are members some sort of giant or small species because im me and i love GT! This again, isnt mentioned in the link bc the link is a plot summary, characters arent described.

But to ramble about it here.

The Ice Princess is a modern-ish fantasy world run by guilds (well, at least the countries the main story takes place in are). There are 6 major guilds and dozens of minor guilds.

The major guilds are: Witches, Wizards, Warlocks, Bards, Magicians, and Archeologists

These guilds are always in conflict, sometimes working together, often not. And the main plot is about the guilds all trying to find and take control of The Ice Princess, a mysterious and legendary magical diamond that recently was confirmed to not be just a legend!

The main story centers around a group of rookies sent by each guild to find The Ice Princess. So in essence, 6 main characters. Rookie does not mean kid. These characters are adults.

They all converge in an area as they set off on their quest. Initially they are all suspicious of each other but agree that alone they would certainly fail so they will be allies. For now. They all plan to betray the rest the moment they see the ice princess.

Of course as they adventure they bond and stuff (its a fantasy soap opera and uh... many of them end up sleeping together. its for comedy. im very ace and think sex is funny. If i ever wrote the story there be no sex scenes bc i cant and wont write those).

at least one of them dies before the reach the ice princess's location. idk how. so many options. killed by a criminal gang. turned into a doll. blown up by a wayward spell. got cursed and didnt realize it. eaten by a monster (side note: this isnt a v*re story, even if a character or two end up eaten by a monster. No giants will eat people. that's that).

In fact, upon finding the ice princess, one is instantly killed and another mortally wounded.

Note that in true Telenovela form, its rare that a character that dies stays dead. How does one come back from being blown up??? fuck if i know this aint a logical story its illogical!

But thats enough about plot! it continues of course and i massively simplified it here (read the google doc for more .the google doc has a lot of details actually) but lets talk Characters! lets talk giants and tinies.

The Grand Master Witch is a Fire Witch named Emmett Ha'Aish. He's married to a giant and has two half-giant kids. Well. one half giant. another is more of a giant fire demon that safegauards something important.

The Grand Master Wizard is a dragon! 350 years old and has been guild master for nearly 230 of those years. She's big! about 100ft from nose tip to tail but her tail is very long and so is her neck. She is extremely possessive of her guild, treating the members like her hoard.

Wait I meant to describe the rookie group! the six rookies.

Rookie of the Wizard Guild: Yonah Ha'Aish. The half giant half fire witch. He's about 18ft tall. Emmett wants Yonah's HEAD on a stake for his betrayal of the witch guild. A lot of comedy in this show comes from failed assassination attempts on Yonah. Yonah is secretly dating someone in the witch guild (no this doesnt disqualify him from the sex shenanigans of the rookie group)

Rookie of the Witch Guild: Maya (last name not decided on yet). Youngest of the group. Found sanctuary in the witch guild and escaped from an abusive step-father. Maya is a naga! Naga can be Mini, Midi, or Giant. Maya is mid-sized which is is human. Loves nature and has a tiny Dridder friend that sits on her shoulder. His name is Artie.

Rookie of the Warlock Guild: Avshalom Teitel. An ambitious human who yearns for adventure but lacks true direction in life. They become really good friends with yonah really quickly, but only after they have a big fight. Avshi tried to test their adventuring skills on this half-giant fire person who, by definition, is a monster/beast. Yonah doesnt really mind being thought of as a monster, as long as its understood that being monster-kin doesnt mean one is not a person. But Avshi needed to be taught that a bit.

Rookie of the Bard Guild: Ophir Shel Peh. Less of a rookie, actually experienced, but was heavily demoted for serious copyright infringement. He's not a rookie but he was demoted from high master rank to apprentice (the lowest rank!) and thus qualifies for the mission. He will be blacklisted if he fucks up again, this is his chance to redeem himself. Ophir is an interesting mixed-race man, fairy and pixie. Fairies are not small in this world but pixies are. and he ended up closer to Pixie sized. 2ft tall he is glad he has wings.

Rookie of the Magicians Guild: Elisheva Tor. Eli is another small one! A brownie. 1ft tall but with a foot long tail to make up the difference. She's actually in two guilds, the magicians, and the attornies. Like a bard, she has a way with words. Shes from a rather important brownie family, where one side runs a sizeable amount of the criminal underground, and the other is a few generations of wealth from being magical attornies and owning property and buying companies and stuff.

Rookie of the Archeologists guild: Sophia Orrione. Sophia is a heiress to one of the 12 noble families. but she's a bit of a black sheep, and is fourth in line (out of 8). She does what she wants and what she wanted as to join one of the 6 guilds! Yonah was once her babysitter (when he needed money for college). Sophia is mostly human but somewhere in her lineage snuck in some elf. so she has pointy ears and fangs

and thats it. if you want more info though i cant promise its organized, ask me, read that document.

[squishmallow36]

Uh. So. I was bored in study hall. And i started rambling ideas for this into a google doc. No guarantee they're even coherent but brain was in full microwave mode. Under a cut because it got longgggg

Idk if this is actually gonna happen but I’m gonna worldbuild for it anyway

So Juline is gonna be the one to inherit the kingdom from her parents. Has to be older than Edaline then. She’s gonna marry a commoner (how scandalous)--Kesler

This is not a very popular move within the court (ie the council) and well i think we’re gonna have to pick out who sends the assassin at some point

But canonically the dizznees aren’t liked by society…Okay hear me out

To stay in power, you’ve gotta pay people off. Like the high level military leaders (eg alden) but then you’ve got corruption and that’s gonna mess with the economy

And if the economy is messed with, then prices go up

And if prices go up, people get mad

There are two time periods I was thinking would be interesting to use but the 21st century is an option…i guess.

First - late 1700s/early 1800s. French revolution era. I’m thinking shortly after the start because we aren’t in france. The dizznees are not french. and the court is going to use this opportunity to overthrow the ruling family and be able to blame it on the people (note: i have not watched les mis)

Second - WWI era. That whole thing started with the assassination of Franz Ferdinand. There’s a feeling of nationalism going on. Close to the Russian revolution. Similar reasons as prev. But also you’ve got the mustache cousins (King George V, Kaiser Wilhelm II, Tsar Nicolas II) idk what you could do with that but ~mustaches~

Overall not a very popular govt because any time they try to fix one front the other one gets mad so there’s a national feeling of unrest. Though, kind of like the WWII triangle of ideologies, none of the parties actually like each other. Except for the people still getting paid off but the economy is tanking and that list is shortening

Cue the assassin - my first instinct is to blame emery because I don’t like him. Also he’s the council’s canon mediator, so you know he’s gotta be close to a breaking point at all times. <- not me justifying after the thought lol

Now all of this historical context is gonna go out the window the moment we get into Dex’s pov because xe isn’t gonna be aware of this (note: neopronouns? Anachronistic but also xe/xem!dex owns my soul). Well xe’s gonna be vaguely aware but not have ALL this historical context by any means

Which is why xe allows Fitz to bodyguard even if xe doesn’t like it.

Another fun thing if we wanna lean into this revolution idea i’m already leaning into: alden being the peoples’ choice as the new leader and then we get some ~fitz angst~ because he’s stuck between worlds

(Gay world and alden world which is just like gay world but in denial)

The assassin themself should be someone in the neverseen - if it was alvar that would be so horribly devastating and kind of canon supported bc alvar is a (alleged) murder child and alden doesn’t seem to care (flashback)

That does imply that the neverseen is working with the council in some capacity (and also alden is neverseen which is close enough to canon for me) but triangle of ideologies they don’t like each other so it’s fine.

Plot events:

Open with vivaldi spring on something like a nice family dinner. I don’t think it should be too fancy of an event. And that does allow some triplet content as they start a food fight. If we’re in Dex pov, we can start laying the groundwork of fedex by noticing Fitz across the room. At this point we don’t have an opinion other than that he pretty

(fitz pov could also be interesting there with the internalized homophobia i always give him. And the fact that i wouldn’t have to write the actual assassination attempt. But that does make it more tell not show so dex pov is probably better narratively)

Don’t waste time getting into the actual story - assassination attempt. Idk what it should be. I do like the idea of trying to poison because of the chem knowledge.

(also there’s a page of poisonous plants and I already know too much about that. I also know too much about knives but that’s dangerous if you stabby stab in the wrong place)

Next scene we have dex laying in the healing center, half conscious. Elwin Juline Kesler discussing things that are scary - details about the assassination attempt so the audience can know how much i over researched (i haven’t yet. I just know I will end up doing so if i actually write this thing)

Also going to reveal the fact that fitz is gonna be dex’s personal bodyguard and that makes dex anger

Definitely draw from the end of book 1 when Sophie got sandor because that parallelism would be interesting. Same situation different character…was that even book 1 though? Double check that. I don’t know canon as well as i should

Spend a couple days in the healing center before being allowed out on parole. Can either use this time for sophie/dex bonding time or the more likely route time skip. While we’re in there, no fitz because he’s studying current events like the little nerd /affectionate he is so the first time they’re stuck together is after escaping from the healing center

When fitz and dex meet formally, most of the historical context i spent too long thinking about goes on the back burner to the gays (another nice thing about french revolution era - the napoleonic code (1804) did legalize gays in france and a couple of other countries napoleon took over so no sodomy charges in this house. Also the fact that kesler and juline are bi they would’ve legalized it long ago)

I have an idea!

We all know how in royal AUs Fitz is a prince and Dex is not. Change it! Dex is the price in this AU, while Fitz is the son of a respected Army General. 

Now there the idea for the story: There have been threat on the royal family and Dex’s parents are like “Ah nay bitch.” and give their kids personal bodyguards. The tripalest, they cool with it. Dex is not. He doesn’t want to be followed wherever the heck he goes and to add sault to the wound; Fitz Vacker is his bodyguard. But Dex wont let this get him down. No. He’ll make it Fitz’s problem.

Fitz can’t let his dad down, this is a very important job. But oh boy its so hard to keep it together when the person you’re supposed to keep alive is teasing the every living hell out of you!

Does anyone what to be a group writing project with me? I need this in my life.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 17

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: Feelings! PTSD! Anxiety! Clint! Team bonding! Reader is a badass 😍 And comic book medical accuracy .

Un-beta-ed.

"It smells like a liquor factory in here," Bucky's voice came from the kitchenside, followed by noises of the team's arrival. Via portal, because the elevator made zero noise.

"I suggest you avoid the area around me and Clint. It might be contaminated." My voice sounded sharp to my own ears. I sat in silence for several hours, waiting for the team's return, while Clint restlessly dozed next to me.

My words caused the team to freeze in their tracks, owlishly blinking at me and at Clint laying sprawled on the floor, surrounded by plastic bags and biological hazard containment units. Tony's helmet swiftly covered his face - I heard muffled sounds coming from within, probably Friday's explanations. In seconds, the helmet retracted, showing an extremely worried Tony.

"How do you feel, Princess? Any weakness, any pain?"

"No symptoms, Tony. Just a fuckton of anxiety," I admitted, avoiding the concerned looks of Tony's teammates. "I almost drowned the room in alcohol but warned you just to be safe. Also, your alien pathogen protocol sucks."

"We made it so unauthorized personnel wouldn't get their hands on Thor's or Loki's blood samples," Bruce supplied meekly from where he was leaning against Steve, wearing a tattered hoodie and his hulk-out pants. "Off to decon we go," The scientist sighed. "Friday, code seven-zero-three-five-five. Pull up the data you gathered. In the shower." The man was exhausted, yet the call of science seemed to give Bruce a tiny energy boost. With newfound determination, he waddled to the communal showers, the rest of the team in tow.

Natasha's stare was truly unnerving. I was fully aware she and Barton had long history; the fact that I had to respond to one of the deadliest assassins if I had made even the slightest mistake - anxiety mixed with blind terror in me. I fought the nausea and the headache, focusing on Clint's hair between my fingers. His steady breathing.

He'd be okay. He had to be okay.

"You did great, Princess," The time passed in a blink. Bruce's warm hands were encompassing mine - gently pulling me away from Clint. I looked at Banner's face with unseeing eyes.

"I heard what Friday said and I can only applaud your quick thinking. You saved his life," Strange, sounding uncharacteristically quiet and bashful, parroted Bruce, hovering behind the scientist. His angular face was contorted in sorrow. "I believe I should apologize for dropping Barton onto you like that. I underestimated the extent of his injuries." The man sounded so, so guilty.

"I saved his life," I repeated in disbelief. Surely they were exaggerating.

"You did, malysh. For that, I am grateful," Natasha's hand found my own, squeezing briefly, before following Steve that had picked up a still-sleeping Clint, to, presumably, carry him to medical. "Come on, Banner, we need you."

Banner gave me a brief squeeze of his own, taking his leave, scurrying after Romanoff. I was left awkwardly standing in front of Strange, both of us disheveled and dazed.

"I ordered pizza," I said, just to fill the grim silence.

"Okay," Just like that, he snapped out of his trance, sitting down on the couch and picking up his food.

The others trickled in, Bucky, Pete, Thor, Loki, Sam, Wanda, Pietro. I saw it all like it was tinted by a thick fog. Their words made a jumbled cacophony when they reached my ears. Tony's arm around me - that woke me up, slightly. I focused on my favourite thing in the world - the faint smell of him, a mix of soap, machine oil and expensive cologne.

"She's shellshocked," Bucky suddenly said, pointing at me.

"No," I frowned. "No. I may be a fumbling idiot but I don't have PTSD."

Tony's breath stuttered in his chest. Promptly, I was turned around, a pair of intelligent brown orbs sharply gazing into my eyes. "Princess?"

"I'm so glad y'all are alright," I choked out, fisting the cotton of his shirt in my palm. "Even Stephen the asshole. Team bonding wouldn't be the same without his sarcasm," Hurrying to hide the fact that I was scared shitless, I did what I do best. I joked.

"Gods, you two are really a match made in heaven," Wanda's tired voice had 110% eye-roll in it. "So much self-deprication, almost as much as brilliance." The witch usually refrained from commenting on people's private thoughts. Usually, but not that day.

"I am relieved to know you hold me in high regards," Stephen's sarcastic remark made it's way around a mouthful of pizza.

Bucky's phone beeped. "They're saying Clint will be out in a few hours. No permanent damage, the gash on his leg won't scar and he's demanding Tony buy his saviour a cake," With a smile, the soldier read the text's contents out loud. "Also, the resident doc wants to hire you." Bucky pointed at me with a teasing grin.

"I, umm, I," Stammering, way to go. "I just - uh, I googled and I improvised? I'm not a doctor or a scientist, I'm a high school student," I replied, voice raising half an octave higher.

"Told you Tony, she's a friggin' genius," Peter sounded way too smug for someone who had a bruise half the size of his head.

"That she is," Tony's voice... Was different. It was honeyed and warm, blanketing me, surrounding me with safety. His arms tightened around me - not uncomfortably so, just enough to ground his presence in my personal space. I snuggled into him happily - he didn't mind at all. The cold glow and faint humming of his arc reactor calmed me. "Friday, cake. Princess cake from the bakery on Seventeenth."

Wow, Tony knew my favourite kind of cake. That was amazing.

"On it, boss." The AI immediately replied. "Well done, Miss." Friday addressed me with the same tone I heard in the lab. Gentle and understanding. It was so very strange.

We mulled around the living room until the pizza was gone and half the occupants were snoring away, dead where they sat. It was an unanimous decision to pull out the unfolding couch and form a cuddle pile of sorts - after such a long and grueling mission with one of their own facing the brink of death, all the superheroes were more than a little unsettled. I didn't exactly know where I fit in that. Obviously, all of them were close in one way or another. Even Loki and Stephen, seeing them get cussed out by Thor for attempting to leave was kind of amusing.

But it got me wondering. Maybe they felt like imposters, too? After all, I wasn't special. Loki wasn't considered a good guy. And Stephen was too much of a lone wolf. All three of us were comfortable alone, used to dealing on our own.

One look from Tony, Stark-patented puppy eyes, and I was making space for myself and for Stephen. Even if Loki insisted on grumbling all the way through, his exhaustion showed in the way he leaned on Thor's arm, using a weakly glimmering spell to summon himself a book and then closing his eyes for a moment.

Muted cheering broke out the moment elevator doors opened, showcasing a pale but smiling Clint held up on both sides by Natasha and Steve, Bruce half asleep on the blonde's other side.

"Looking pretty good for a dead bitch," Clint grinned in my direction.

I couldn't resist the bait. The boomer knew his memes, after all. "She's alive!"

He patted my leg, making his way to a free spot on the ginormous sofa bed. "Aw, pizza," He groused, spying the empty boxes.

"Should arrive in ten minutes," Bucky quipped, waving his phone. Then, the brunette super-soldier looked at me pointedly. "We usually order double after long missions."

"Duly noted, y'all hungry peoples." I said, filing it away for later. Thinking about more missions, more near-death experiences wasn't something I wanted to handle that very moment.

"So, uh, what exactly happened? My memory is pretty spotty," Clint demanded once he got his hands on some food.

"I also need to know. You're going to have to sign a statement and a mission report," Natasha stated apologetically.

I looked at her, confused. "Like... How many details do you need?"

Tony shifted beside me uncomfortably. I put a steadying hand on his leg - my palm was immediately dwarfed by his own. Natasha gave him a Look. "Fury's eyes only, but SHIELD needs to know how you figured out to neutralise a potential alien threat. Bruce ran some tests and this pathogen is... Pretty nasty, to say the least. It has the survivability to be classified as a potential weapon." Natasha's voice was apologetic, once more.

What have I gotten myself into? I was just trying to save a friend. "First of all, I'm not working for Men in Black, like, ever," I made the point to look her in the eyes. A brief moment later, she nodded. Tony relaxed, exhaling soundly. "Okay, get your reading glasses on. It went like this..." I retold the story, taking careful note to voice my thought processes as much as I remembered them. Save for a few surprised gasps and Tony haphazardly kissing the top of my head, the team gave me no interruptions.

Bruce was the first one to react once I was done. "But... How did you think of bloodletting? It's such an unusual solution," He mumbled more to himself.

"I've watched enough horror movies to know better than to introduce a foreign bacteria, such as antibiotics, to a person with an alien infection," I deadpanned, spying a satisfied smile on Stephen's face. "Worst case scenario, the substitution of infected blood with healthy would have diluted the amount of parasites or deflected their attention from eating away Clint's nerve endings. Him going bazinga from pain was my main concern," I admitted, the archer's pained cries once again filling my ears. The memory was still fresh.

"That makes sense," Bruce nodded.

"And what would you have done?" I asked, unable to withhold my curiosity.

"Sedated Clint while I examine the specimens," Banner replied with the obvious. "Then figure out how to cure the infection."

I nodded along slowly. "I considered that option but ultimately, I was too chicken to entertain the possibility of the parasites interacting with heavy sedatives. Fentanyl affects some of the blood components the parasites eat so only God knows how it might have ended."

Banner was impressed, that much was obvious. Tony's lips once again landed on the crown of my head, gentle and warm. More and more people in the room were giving me impressed, happy, grateful looks. It was strange and I squirmed in my spot, putting the half-eaten pizza slice back in the box, Steve immediately eyeing it in contemplation.

"Have at it, you human garbage disposal," I muttered, laying down comfortably. I was still shivering from the adrenaline rush and the soft blanket cocoon I shared with Tony and Stephen - their combined body heat under it - called to me like a siren.

"Are you well?" Loki noticed my state, casting a dark look over the edge of his book.

"Yeah, just cold. Us humans shiver when coming off an adrenaline rush," I remarked absently, pressing myself closer to Tony.

The engineer laid down, spooning me, tangling our legs together. We slept like that, all over each other, every time I stayed in his bed. It felt comfortable, like home, and nobody seemed to mind. Peter and Wanda, already snoozing away, were in a similarly indisposed state, octopus-ing their nearest teammates. Friends. Family.

My eyes drooped. My chest was about to burst with an odd sort of content - quiet, steady and welcoming. Tony's beard tickled my neck, breaths coming in soft puffs against my nape, spreading warmth all over me.

And there was something - someone warm in front of me, too, I could smell the sandalwood and spices of his cologne. Abandoning all reservations, I shamelessly wrapped both of my arms around a larger, more muscular one, taking note to avoid Stephen's scarred, sensitive hands. The flat of his tummy under my palm was rising and falling steadily, his breathing almost in sync with Tony's and mine.

All of us were safe and alive. It mattered to me, perhaps, more than I'd ever cared to admit out loud. As much as I refused to let them all in, for real and beyond silly gimmicks, they still wormed their way inside my heart, inside my brain. Not with long discussions and talking feelings - hell no, that's the hard and the boring shit, but with simply their presence.

Hugs. Mario Kart tournaments. Cake after I'd done good at something. Sunday morning pancakes for all. Homework. Sciencing together. Catching up on memes and just watching funny YouTube videos together. Playing Twister and Monopoly.

For the first time in my life, I had a stable presence. I belonged somwhere. It felt too good to deny, so once again, I allowed myself to be selfish.

✨ Taglist of my lovelies ✨ still open.

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading

[innepttia]

Fanfic asks? 1, 13, 23? :D

Oh gosh you're too kind honestly get away you’ll make me cry

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK. This is probably WAY too much information but here we go:

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

I’m keeping this only in the Mass Effect world because I think my fave fic is a Hades (video game) fic I wrote in January that is just pure fluff… like tooth rotting fluff. And maybe a Destiny 2 fic that I’ve been actively writing in my head. None of my Shrios fics are in this category but that's just because I haven't written the PERFECT one yet. My standards for my shrios fics are way higher than anything else.

Fave oneshot: Departed

Okay so I’ve already lied about the oneshot thing lmfao. It’s a two chapter fic but I haven’t gotten around to writing the second chapter. I have TOO MUCH I want to write. So it’s been a single chapter for many months… slowly slipping into the oneshot territory.

It’s a mini space opera with a bunch of OCs that mysteriously disappear and Shep and Garrus are on the ship to investigate but TURNS OUT it’s a part of Legion’s code that got uploaded as the ship’s AI that’s acting up. (this is not a spoiler - I address this very early on). It’s like a murder mystery but in space… basically the best kind of murder mystery.

One sided Legion/Shepard (confused pining from Legion’s side), background Garrus/Shepard, rated T for now, TW for OC death

Fave multi-chapter: As It Was

Unsurprisingly, it’s this one. I think I’ve been most excited about this. I so enjoy writing Samara as a space samurai and writing from Nihlus’s POV just thirsting after her. BECAUSE SAME. I AM ALSO THIRSTING AFTER HER.

Samara/Nihlus, rated T for now, TW for mild violence, very little Shepard - mostly focuses on the squad behind the scenes.

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

My yearly wrapped tells me that it’s the album Everything is Fine by Amigo the Devil and honestly? This makes total sense. The music is set to a happy acoustic/piano/violin melody but the words are dark af. My two fave songs off this album: Cocaine and Abel (this one gives me real Thane vibes for my answer for #23) and The Dreamer (oof crazy relationship alert)

Least favorite song that I skip every time is the husband song… it’s a little too dark for me

TW for the ENTIRE album. It’s a whole mess.

One of the lyrics, “So I prayed to god, how can you give them the gift of life, then curse me with the hands to take it away” if that doesn’t scream 1) TW up the hooha and 2) real big moody reptile assassin vibes

I do want to say that Two Feet is a close runner up for favorite writing artist though. I could vibe to every single one of his songs.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

I only really have one that I wanted to write but didn’t. I’m very bad at writing AUs unless it’s like a this-person-didn’t-die sort of AU. Very minor changes I can do. My Nihlus/Samara AU where he lives and becomes a squadmate is even pushing my limit on AUs. (I attempted to do a full on AU with Shep/Garrus and honestly just failed so hard 😂 c’est la vie)

That being said… the AU I wanted to write is a super dark Thane fic. The darkest version of him that I could possibly write. My AU: Thane was never a choice for the squad in ME2. It’s all set from his POV. He’s taken a contract on Shep and he’s hunting her. But OF COURSE it would be spicy. Real film noir style. I wrote a teeny tiny small snippet of it.. my Google doc titled: “Really bad guy Thane” 😂

Weapon charged, she took a step away from her fireteam. They split up to cover more ground, the streets of Omega the least safe place to do such a thing. But he watched, silent, from the shadows of a doorway as she passed before him.

Her hair shone like a beacon; her skin enticed him to his very core. He found himself reaching out, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking. To his disappointment and relief, she didn’t scream. No, this powerful woman would not scream. Instead, her omnitool was unfurling. She ducked and spun, her hair still gripped in his hand but suddenly she was facing him. The blade tip pressed against his throat.

He should have felt trapped. His target pressing him against the grimy wall, one breath away from ending his life. The sharp blade scratched at his sensitive neck and he felt a heat pool in his gut.

Eyes, bright and angry, tried to lock onto him. A sneer on her face. Perfection.

His other hand, achingly empty of weapon or woman, grabbed her wrist and forced the blade closer. It scraped against his throat, each inhale and exhale tempting fate.

“Would you do it?” He asked from the dark.

Questions Here! :)

[saltpotion]

TRUE you’re so real for this

Also, I don’t think spending a ton of time on worldbuilding/characters is disgraceful at all! I definitely have several google docs of just me talking to myself on paper trying to make decisions about setting and characters. Six years is honestly an impressive amount of time to commit to one story—it means you’ve thought a lot through

I’m also guilty of excessive note taking and not actually writing though lmao I feel that

& yeah, I am!! They have to hide if they want to practice magic at all. A few of them try to blend in more (such as magic restore lady, or the one who walks up to you in Kasuto to give you a magic container), but it’s challenging—most of them spent a good portion of their lives using magic for everything.

Traveler didn’t, because he ran away at the age when most of them begin training. With the exception of magic items, it wasn’t until his second adventure that he started learning and using Calatian spells. He had complicated feelings about it for awhile, but eventually he realized he liked using magic.

People are particularly spooked by glowing hands, unless it’s the golden light from Princess Zelda. Aurora, who was raised to be the symbolic bridge between two cultures, struggles to only use the light magic, and usually just hides her hands in her pockets while doing spells. Traveler tends to lure monsters away from anyone else before fighting them using magic—the exception being the other heroes, who don’t recognize the source of his magic because the Calatians are only relevant in Traveler’s Hyrule.

Relations between Calatians (the community of sorcerers both Traveler and the king are from) and the Hyruleans really soured after the king died. The manual says that the king ‘kept peace’ using the Triforce, and I took kind of a sinister interpretation of that. He knew that his marriage to the queen wouldn’t be popular due to cultural differences, so he wished on the Triforce to keep peace between Hyruleans and Calatians for as long as he lived.

Unfortunately, he was assassinated by another Calatian who had sided with some Hyruleans in an attempted coup. The events described in the Zelda II manual with the wizard and the curse almost immediately followed. After that, all hell broke loose. The Triforce wish could keep people from making decisions, but it couldn’t keep people from feeling resentful towards each other. And the wish was only for as long as he lived, so when he died, it was like someone twisted a cap on a shaken up soda bottle. Violent conflict broke out.

The Calatians eventually moved west and re-established their own country, having been merged with Hyrule for the duration of the king’s reign. A hundred years later, most Hyruleans’ conception of them are a mix of actual historical events, old legends of heroes who fought evil sorcerers, and completely made up conspiracies.

What sorts of stories do u like writing? Any ideas ur excited about right now??

I’m kind of newish to writing stories, so I guess I don’t have a set genre/preference yet. I wrote a lot of fiction as a kid but got bored of it eventually, and I never finished anything. The most I’ve done since then is creative nonfiction essays, which can be cathartic but definitely a very different skillset.

I haven’t gotten an idea for an original story yet, so for now I’m just working on fanfiction. I’ve been thinking kind of obsessively about the Zelda II backstory ever since I thought it would be fun to imagine what would mean for all that to go down in the context of the canon that’s been established ever since.

Originally I was just going to write a story about Aurora and her brother (who I named Itentio), two Golden Age siblings under immense pressure who are at each other's throats until the bitter end.

But the more I thought about it, the more I became interested in Aurora's life after waking up, so now this idea has evolved into a LU fic. The POV flips from Traveler to Aurora to Dawn, and we get a flashback scene from each of them while the present-day story deals with them confronting their respective pasts.

I'm still kind of in early drafting stages, but so far the story involves Traveler's dad, Aurora's dad (lots of dads), Dawn's political life, uncertainty vs. certainty at the end of the world, rehydrated wizzrobes, the blood curse, monsters who don't want to be monsters, and lots and lots of magic.

[avas-inner-demons-are-babies]

Ohana

Ship: None (Though you may take implications as you please)

Summary: Leif has always insisted that he should be allowed to do things on his own. Well, now he’s on his own and honestly...he isn’t enjoying it. Perhaps a bit of new company can help him sort out his feelings. 

A/N: Hey everyone! World’s most confused college freshman here, bringing you another MID fic that took waaay to long to get typed up. Legitimately, this has been sitting in my Google Docs for months, just taunting me. But there’s been a little less stresso in my espresso lately, so I took time to actually make myself sit down and get it done. I may not ship Ava and Leif personally, but their dynamic is just *chefs kiss*. I’ll never get over that whole “If you promise not to kill me then I won’t leave you behind.” “You’re with me till you die” scene. It makes me feel things. But anyways, this is nearly 14 full pages in G-Docs, and I hope you can all enjoy!

A/N 2.0: So apparently one of the cons of staying up late to finish a fic is forgetting to attach the actual fic itself to the post. My bad guys, here she be. 

In his couple hundred years of living, Leif can proudly boast that he has done many, many things; some very common for Daemos of his age; others common to those much older than him; and there have even been a few select occasions when he has done things that even the most aged and experienced elders cannot ever claim to have done (getting exiled, befriending a prince, travelling dimensions to a world full of humans, befriending a human, living with a human, laughing with a human...the list seems to grow daily now).

However, out of all the various activities that he has taken part in throughout his life, he can safely say that people-watching has not been one of them. Back on Daemos, staring- like most other interactions, whether they be direct or otherwise- often resulted in battle; which, in turn, resulted in a lot of shouting and blood-shed. It was a silent show of disrespect and of challenge; and only idiots and warriors sought out battles willingly. And while the title of ‘warrior’ technically goes hand-in-hand with Leif’s recently earned place as a knight, the position is just that- recently earned. And despite what some may say, he is not an idiot. Considerate? Scholarly? Absolutely not. But street-smart and clever? Let’s just say he hadn’t become an infamous assassin by running solely off of reckless impulse and uneducated whims. But now, here on Earth, almost all of those skills have fallen into uselessness, and he can people-watch without any real concern for his life. 

And by the Gods is he watching.

He is watching and scanning and listening and praying. Praying for a familiar face. Listening for the sound of a high voice discussing things of no importance, or for a loud, bratty complaint about anything at all; for a gentle-but-stern reprimand laced with patience, or a subtly nervous acknowledgement of some strange discomfort; even for a soft-but-proud observation of something completely obvious. Scanning for a flash of hot pink eyes or a bobbing carrot-top head of hair or a giant amidst the crowd of short humans. Watching so intensely for all of these things that the rest of the world seems to have filtered down into a watery hum. 

To put it quite plainly, Leif is lost. Very lost in a very crowded place, with no idea where his group has vanished to or where he himself should (or even can) be. It had been fun at first; being able to do as he pleased; wandering wherever his whims decided to take him, stealing food from a group of small humans, kicking over trash cans, and just overall being a minor nuisance. But invigoration tends to fade very quickly  when one is travelling a lot of unfamiliar terrain, and as it goes, so too does energy. It doesn’t help that they’d been at this “music festival” -as Ava had called it- for quite some time before he’d broken away from her and the others, and admittedly, he is starting to feel the strain on his feet from all the walking. In addition, the ridiculously large gathering of humans that bustle around him is beginning to leave him overwhelmed. And on top of that…

  “...it’s starting to get cold” He pouts internally, suddenly rather grateful for the double-layered, long sleeve human shirt that Ava had gotten him. Ever since the Fall Festival, he’d noticed the air outside growing chillier by the day. It was starting to get to the point where their thoughtful human host unusually protective prisoner was considering going back to the Sacred Ma’all and obtaining them some “coats and hats and stuff”, to quote her specifically.

As a particularly nippy gust of winds arrives, lashing the tips of his ears as it dances through, he finds himself wishing desperately for these objects that he can not even properly picture.

Looking up at the sky, Leif can just make out the thin line of orange coating the horizon as the sun begins its lazy descent. Eyes narrowed, he decides to take a break. Plomping himself down on a nearby bench, he sighs, combing his fingers through his absolute mess of a mane. 

  “Ava promised.” He whispers, “She promised. They’ll be back. They have to come back.”

The city-dwelling regulars that skitter past him hardly spare a glance for the strange, mumbling man on the bench. It’s nothing they don’t already see on their daily commutes, and most would not blame them for their experienced silence. But Leif, who has no way of knowing what they know, takes their purposefully imposed ignorance as a personal offence. He feels segregated from their reality. Invisible.

Alone.

Leif hisses in a sharp breath as the word taunts him. Pressing his head into the palms of his hands, he represses a shudder. He should be used to this by now; being left to his own devices. How many times now has it been? How many betrayals and abandonments? Four? Five? More than one person should be able to count. He has been able to handle himself just fine before. So why now? Why now is he having such issues with finding his own way? He might call it ironic if he knew the meaning of the word.

  “It’s because you got used to the cushy life.” A small voice in the back on his thoughts croons, “You liked being chummy with the Prince and his guard dogs. You liked that there was always food at the ready, and that you never had to worry where you were sleeping next. You liked the stability. The safety. And in time, you even came to like the laziness that this new world allowed.”

  “That’s not true!” Leif barks back, not realizing how loud the proclamation was until several humans passing by wince and stumble as their paces quicken. He is sure to lower his voice as he continues to mumble to himself, “I can still take care of myself. I haven’t gone soft. I can do this.”

Taking in a long deep breath, he steels his will against the unpleasant thoughts racing around in his head. He bows his head and closes his eyes. When he opens them again a few ticks later, there’s a clear change. They’re collected. Focused.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I can do this.” He reassures himself, feeling some of that original vamped-up feeling return, “I’m a Daemos dammit! I don’t need some human to hold my hand! I’ll find my own way home! And then.-then I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them for leaving me!”

The mental pep talk does great things for Leif. Now enraged and brimming with confidence, breathing heavily and nearly quaking with the emotion of it all, he puts on a sneer and glares out into the crowd. His fingers flex as he summons forth his sickles, ready to swing them out at any unfortunate soul that crosses his path. He stands, his knuckles white around their hilts. The dying sunlight has no effect on him anymore. His goal is apparent in his mind. He is prepared. Determined. 

He takes one strong, bold step forward…

...and is subsequently swept off his feet by the force of a group of teens pushing past him.

Nearly losing his balance, Leif’s arms flail in an attempt to regain his balance, and he immediately bumps into a young couple. As they turn on him with vicious glares, he steps away from them. Disorientation takes this chance to rush through his system. As he fumbles about, one of his sickles manages to catch on the shirt of a small child toddling by with his mother. Leif jerks one direction while the boy jerks in the other. A shirt sleeve tears, and the little one goes sprawling to the ground. An ear-piercing shriek explodes from tiny lungs. All heads turn in their direction. Wide-eyed Leif throws away his weapons and presses his hands against his sensitive ears. While staggering away from all the attention, he runs into yet another man who- being caught completely off guard- falls back into someone behind him. As the domino effect continues, the noise and panic cause the poor Daemos to go into full flight mode. Gritting his teeth, he gathers just enough control to take a flying leap over the top of the completely bewildered mob. He lands back near the bench and grasps it tightly to keep himself from falling to his knees. As he takes a seat once more, the humans are all glancing around and shouting at each other in offense. The child continues crying.

Thoroughly defeated, Leif allows his head to fall back as he slumps down into the wooden comfort. Then, he lifts it back up only to cradle it in his hands. The unwelcome tears brought on by pure fear sting at the corners of his eyes. Releasing a shaky sigh, he finally gives into the thought that he has so far been refusing to voice. 

  “I’m doomed.”

***

Soaring high above the head of one particularly shaken Daemos, a careless pigeon makes its way around the festival with ease. Drifting aloof above the sea of hundreds of singing and laughing humans, it follows the breeze along the street and down towards one particular block, where a vendor has been handing out pretzels. And at this moment, it just so happens that a young woman, with flowing dark hair and vibrant pink eyes, has just dropped the remaining half of her salted treat on the ground. The pigeon is quick to join several of its other brethren in tearing at the free meal to pieces, completely unaware that shock is what delivered this wonderful treat to them. Although, they learn very soon after, as said young woman lets off a loud, horrified shout. Grey feathers go flying as the band disperses in a threatened rush. 

The group of men trailing behind the woman jerk in surprise.

  “Princess Ava? What’s wrong?” The youngest, a concerned looking redhead, calls out. 

Ava stares at her companions with a feverish look. Pointing at each of them individually, the others can hear her counting them, over and over again.

  “One, two, three, four...two, three, four...three, four, four, four! Why are there only four of you!” Her voice raises in both pitch and volume, “Where’s Leif?!”

Her words seem to settle with them all at the exact same time. The tallest of the bunch, Pierce, begins flickering his gaze from face to face, searching for the former-assassin in the horde of people around them. Rhys, Noi, and Asch all turn off in different directions, then come back and share a look. They all focus on Ava, who has turned to the ground with guilt-ridden eyes. 

  “How could I...he was just with us not too long ago, right? Right?” Her frantic question is only met with uncertain silence from her companions. Rhys goes as far as to look away, nibbling on his ice pop, “Oh God. We have to find him! Leif!”

Ava begins pushing her way through the crowd, crying out to her missing friend. The boys stick to her like frightened ducklings as they mimic her steps. Their screams rise above the swell of music and voices. 

  “Leif, where are you!”

***

As his friends begin their desperate hunt a few streets away, Leif finds himself aimlessly ambling along through the park. He has discovered that there are less people back within these tree-sheltered pathways and he is grateful for it. He is on the hunt for something, although if he were asked he would not be able to say exactly what. Shelter? Company perhaps? A sign pointing home would be nice, but he can’t really read all that well, and he doubts that there is one around regardless. For a natural-born hunter, he certainly does have an awful sense of direction.

His fingers tap against his thigh as he walks. On occasion, he mumbles curses at himself for getting stuck in this situation. The night sky is clear and bright, and more than once he finds himself staring up at it, feeling as though the stars are laughing at his plight. Gaining a little comfort in the embrace of the shadows, he sticks to them, glancing over every now and again to see a straggling human stroll by. He passes the fountain where he and Ava had encountered the threatening ‘clique’;passes a large stone statue of some long-dead human frozen in time; passes what looks to be a small garden area, where brightly colored flowers glow in the moonlight. 

Eventually, Leif reaches an area that he first assumes to be abandoned. The quiet and empty wrap around him like a blanket. His only company seems to be the soft glow from the scattered lampposts. The peace here cradles him in its arms and promises him safety. He’s almost relaxed, resigning to spend the night in whatever tree provides the most cover and warmth, when suddenly-

  “Heya there compadre.”

Leif startles back several feet and does a neat little twirl to face the direction of the slow and kindly voice that had called out to him. How he had missed the strange human before him in his first look around is beyond Leif, but he certainly sees the man now. He sits leaning against the nearest tree with an air of remiss and a smile on his face. Upon seeing Leif’s reaction to his greeting, he puts his hands up in reassurance

  “Hwoa there! Didn’t mean to startle ya friend. Just couldn’t help but notice that you were lookin’ a tad lost.” 

  “We’re not friends.” Leif interjects so instinctively that he nearly cuts the stranger off. Then, catching his own tongue before he says anything truly offensive, he reroutes with, “But...yeah, I am lost. I got seperated from my group a while ago and haven’t been able to find them since. And I’m not very familiar with your kingdom yet, so I can’t just go back home.”

Thanks to the poor lighting between them, the Daemos misses how the stranger’s eyebrows quirk a little at his self-correction (and yet not the use of ‘kingdom’?). But as he makes his way over to this new human, Leif does begin to take in the man’s overall messy and unkempt appearance. His long, auburn hair is wrapped up into an extremely makeshift ponytail, the length of which surpasses even that of Pierce’s or Ava’s. The many rebellious strands held back out of his face by a thick, green fabric headband that’s stretched across his forehead. It must have been made to match the long, tassled poncho that he wears, their colors the same. Beneath it, he only seems to have a miserably stained grey shirt, and pants so baggy that Leif can not imagine them being comfortable. His skin, which at first appeared to simply be naturally dark, is actually merely a deceptive tan which highlights every freckle, scar, and wrinkle. Leif is sure that if he were to touch the stranger, he might have an almost leathery feel to him. Teeth no whiter than a well-worn paperback fill in a broad smile that brings to life the creases around the edges of both the stanger’s lips and eyes. Eyes that are brown like a healthy farm soil, and seem to hold a level of spirit and life that Leif can never recall having seen in any other person before. It’s unfiltered blatancy is surprising to him.

  “Well ahh, what’cha waitin’ for?” The stranger suddenly picks up the conversation, scooching slightly to the right and patting the ground beside him, “Come’n take a seat. We can vibe while the universe carries the train of life down its long tracks.”

Leif hesitates. The human before him might be a stranger, but he emits an image that reminds the Daemos of the forest spirits that could be found back in his own world. The Earth seems comfortable around him. If one squinted, it would almost seem as though the tree’s trunk and roots had warped to form a throne around him.

  “He seems like a powerful sage. I should stay. Maybe he can help me.”

Nodding to himself more so than the man, Leif takes his place on the grass. This results in a wide, toothy grin on behalf of his companion, and being so close now, Leif is able to notice how one of his canines is missing.

  “Joyous day! You’ll be the first bit of company I’ve had in a long time my fellow wanderer. Say now, what’s your name?” 

  “They call me Leif.”

  “Leaf? The name of a freelancer. A young man born for travel and change. A soul that dances in the wind, its colors ever uncertain.” The man’s smile softens and his eyes stare off in Leif’s general direction, and yet seem to be staring at something miles away, “You and I, I’m sure we’re the same. I’ve had many a name myself, but most around here know me as Jingle. It’s a pleasure to meet’cha.”

Jingle holds out a hand and they shake. Leif has seen this done enough times on the tee-vee to be able to properly pull it off, even if he doesn’t quite understand the significance. Then, glancing over his shoulder, Jingle proceeds to reach back and pull, from behind the tree, a forgeign looking object. 

The thing is clearly made from some kind of light and polished earth wood. Its beige surface has been very delicately carved with a swirling, wave like pattern that decorated almost the entirety of its pear shaped body. A large round hole rests a little ways above the bottom. Stretched taut up its middle and along the long arm protruding from the top are six silver strings, wrapped at both ends around small metal nubs. At the head of the arm are six knobs all turned in various directions. None of the silver pieces shine, and in fact seem quite well worn. Nearly all of the impressive wood surface is riddled with scratches.

Jingle positions the thing against his chest. 

  “What is that?” Leif asks, eyeing it with unease.

  “This here is my trusty guitar Taylor. I know she isn’t much compared to those clunky metal demons they’re selling out there-” Here, he nods his head out in the direction of the still-ongoing festival, “-but she does me just fine. So long as I keep her pretty, she sings like an angel.”

  “It...sings?”

  “As sweet and humble a tune as you might ever hear. Here, have a listen.”

With his nimble fingers already poised to play, Jingle wastes no time in coaxing a tune out from the air. From the first pluck of a string, Leif finds himself utterly enraptured. Each swift movement of the human’s hand brings forth another new wave of sound so soft and breathtaking that the Daemos doesn’t even know how to process it. It is as if Jingle’s soul is completely in tune with the instrument in his grasp. Leif sits stunned, feeling the music tempt his very heart and bring prickles to his skin. A minute passes, and he soon finds himself lying completely relaxed against the tree trunk, eyes closed, and merely absorbing.

Jingle plays for some time, and for that time the two are in their own universe. It is very dark now, and Leif can feel his mind just starting to slip off in unconsciousness. His body is heavy. Connected to the very grass he sits upon by an unnamable force that he chooses to call exhaustion. When his company eventually brings the song to an end, it takes Leif a few moments to reconnect with reality. Green eyes blink several times, and turn to find that Jingle is already watching for his reaction.

  “That was amazing.” Leif breathes in as soft a tone as he’s capable of.

  “Jus’ like I told ya. Voice of an angel.” Jingle hums, parroting his earlier words. He shifts to place Taylor on the ground beside him. When he turns back, he finds Leif staring into the space above them with a small frown on his face, “My friend, what troubles you? The world weighs heavy on your shoulders tonight.”

  “I’m not sure. I just…” Leif trails off, searching within himself for an explanation for the crushing weight in his chest, “I think I miss my friends. I keep wanting them to be here, but they probably already left. I don’t think they’re coming back for me.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes. Jingle peers off down the park path. Leif clears his throat in a battle against the tight feeling that fills it. He jumps when a gentle hand lands on his shoulder. 

  “Lighten your soul wanderer Leif. Everyone leaves sooner or later, but just because they’ve left doesn’t mean they are gone. Pray tell, what doubts whisper in your ear tonight?”

  “Eh?”

  “Why do you assume so quickly that your friends won’t return to you?”

  “Oh. The way you talk is really weird, you know that?”

The human man only smiles at him, patience and expectancy in his eyes. He makes a light gesture with his hand, urging Leif to continue. And after several seconds, he does with a tamed sigh. 

  “I’ve had a lot of people tell me that I cause more trouble than I’m worth.” The simple admission seems to close a giant force around his ribs. As it squeezes painfully, he finds himself emptying more words than he ever knew he had been filling up with, “I know I tend to go overboard most of the time, but I never- no, I guess just lately- I mean, I haven’t been meaning to cause problems recently. Everything is just so...so calm here, and I don’t know how to live like that. Back on- I mean, back where I’m from, peace and quiet always meant something was wrong, and we hardly go anywhere or do anything, and I just get so bored! I hate just sitting around and doing nothing, but it seems like that’s all the others want to do anymore. And I know I could probably just go out for a while on my own and burn some energy but your world is so big and I just...I don’t want to end up on my own again.”

He gives a forced and pitiful huff of laughter.

  “Although I guess it’s too late for that now. I’m sure they probably already went home and forgot about me. They’re probably relieved to get rid of me.”

Leif hadn’t meant to let that flooding fear leak into his words. Or that harsh scratchiness of his throat, which left breaks in his sentences. The uncomfortable rhythm of his heart and the mild shaking must be showing through as well now. It makes no sense to him. He’s only felt this terrified once before- the day they had lost Ava at the Fall Festival. And although the circumstances now are similar, he can not imagine what it is about this strange human that seems to make those insecurities rise up in ten-folds. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the others with him now. Maybe it’s because he really has no idea where to go from here.

The panic had set on him so fast the Leif didn’t properly notice it until it was being chased away by the strong and defendant strums of a guitar. The first twang brought him to a jerking halt at first. But as the singing notes continued, his mind returned to the harmless reality. He came back to find himself looking at the stars. 

Jingle- as if noticing Leif’s inner plight- had picked up Taylor once again.

  “It is not so easy to forget one’s friends.” He murmurs as he plays, “Do not so swiftly dismiss your own worth my snowy-haired partner. If the universe truly believes you were meant to be with these people you seek, then it will surely guide them back to you. And it sounds to me that affection has already been allowed to roost deep in your soul.”

The younger has nothing to say to that. He only closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and nods. Drawing his knees to his chest, he crosses his arms and lies down his head. All these new emotions are exhausting.

***

Ava slumps down against the frigid stone of the fountain, pulling her knees up and hiding her face in them. 

  “I can’t believe this.” The muffled moan that escapes her is full of pain, “How could I lose him? What kind of friend am I? God, he probably thinks we abandoned him.”

  “I don’t get what you’re so worried about.” Asch harrumphs, doing a single lap around the structure before taking a seat on its edge, “We haven’t encountered anything dangerous since we’ve been here on Earth. Leif can take care of himself for one night. Why can’t we just go home? It’s cold out here and I’m tired!”

Despite his childish whining, he at least has the decency to look sheepish when she turns to glare at him.

  “Well if that’s the case Asch, why don’t we just leave you out here tonight? You’re always going on about how you’re so much better than Leif anyways, so if he can make it out here on his own, then clearly you can too.” During her short reprimand, Ava stands and crosses the few steps between them. Her eyes hold a level of rage that the Daemos can never recall having seen on her before. And despite the fact that he could easily beat her in a confrontation- physical or verbal- he feels himself shrinking in shame before her petite frame.

With a satisfied huff, Ava walks several paces away. In the short time it takes her to regain her composure, her anger morphs instantly into guilt. Her posture slumps as she glances back at Asch, whose hurt expression is turned towards the concrete.

  “I’m...I’m sorry Asch.” She sighs, “I didn’t mean that.”

  “I know.” Comes the humbled response from behind her.

  “I’m just really worried about him.”

  “I know.”

The next few minutes are shared in silence. The other three Daemos choose not to express a word on the exchange just yet, only shuffling about in their own thoughts. There is a level of complete loss between them. No one wants to leave Leif behind-- but Asch isn’t the only one whose focus and determination is beginning to wane.

A particularly nippy breeze blows through, causing Ava’s already shaking body to jitter violently. In a second Pierce seems to simply materialize beside her and pull her sniffling form into a warming embrace. 

  “Perhaps Prince Asch is right. We should go for now.” He suggests quietly as she leans into him.

  “But Leif-”

  “-Will be easier to find tomorrow when it is light out.” Rhys jumps in, “We are all concerned Princess Ava, but Asch does have a point. It is unlikely that Leif has found himself in any sort of real danger, and even if he has, he is a trained warrior. None of us are suggesting we abandon our search completely, but we are all at our limits. Even if we were to find Leif tonight, at this rate we may all end up sick by the morning. Please, we will follow you no matter your choice, but think reasonably.”

There’s a gentle hint of pleading in his voice that prevents Ava from denying his claims outright. She looks between all of them in turn, searching desperately for some counterargument that never comes to rise. It doesn’t take long before she finally lets herself really take in the heaviness of her own body; the stinging left in her feet from walking for so long; the need to close her eyes and rest that is becoming harder and harder to fight away. The boys watch with patience as her mind wears itself down, and they don’t miss the surrender that wins over her stature. There’s a quiet breath, then:

  “...fine. Let’s just go home.”

Dear reader, have you ever managed to convince someone you love to do something they don’t want to, only to be hit with a horrible wave of guilt when they give in and agree to go through with it? Have you ever wished you could travel back in time just a few minutes, if only to stop yourself from being so damn persistent? If so, then maybe you can imagine how the Daemos boys feel at this point in time. The deep disappointment they observe in Ava’s eyes as she pulls herself from Pierce’s arms is enough to make their very souls wince. Three sets of eyes meet as their minds change almost unanimously, and Rhys can tell the other two are waiting for him to come up with some sort of clever escape. And being the man he is, he complies.

  “Well, ah-just a moment Princess Ava. We...we haven’t heard from Noi yet! A decision such as this should be agreed upon by everyone present, yes? And perhaps if he believes we should stay out. Noi?”

Rhys shifts, hoping to prompt Noi into insisting that they stay. But the younger Daemos- who has been noticeably absent from the entire conversation- doesn’t appear to have even noticed his name being called. In fact, he likely missed the discussion as a whole, seeing as how he stares off down one of the darkness-swallowed paths with fully focused attention. His amber eyes sparkle with wonder. In listening closely, one may have heard him humming.

Debate temporarily forgotten, Ava and the rest focus on him with quirked eyebrows and tilted heads. 

  “Uhh...Noi?” Asch beacons tentatively.

  “Do you hear it?” Noi whispers in response, to all of them and yet no one in particular.

  “Hear what?” Ava asks, frowning, “I don’t hear anything.”

Pierce steps forward and rests his chin atop her head.

  “I hear it.”

  “Me too.” Asch adds after a moment.

  “Me as well.”

  “Wait, seriously, what are you guys hearing? It’s just quiet for me.”

  “It’s music.” Rhys says, “Different from what the humans at the festival were playing. It’s quieter.”

  “Softer.” Pierce adds, and the scholar nods.

  “Earlier there were voices too.” Noi finishes. 

  “Wait, voices? But who else would be out this la-” Ava’s eyes spark up wide. Before the guys can even hit the same realization she has, she’s already gone; taking off with flying feet and a new swarm of adrenaline buzzing through her veins. “LEIF!”

  “Princess Ava!” A chorus of Daemos voices rise up through the night, and they sprint, one after the other, along her trail. Her voice bounces off the surveying trees.

  “Leif!”

***

  “Leif!” 

Two men sitting beneath a canvas on moonlit leaves jerk their heads up in unison. The elder lowers his guitar and puts on a muted, knowing smile. The younger goes tense as he strains his ears for the echoes of the voice that had rushed at them in the night. His green eyes go wide as can be, quite literally glowing with hope. He places one, prepared hand on the ground…

  “Leif!”

Springing to his feet faster than should be natural, he runs only a few paces forward. 

  “Ava?” He breathes. The sound of rushing feet pouding closer out of the darkness causes him to gasp and with the new air in his lungs he shouts out, “Ava! Ava, I’m here!”

Leif steps into the light just as his human friend barges into its threshold. He’s tossed off his already imbalanced feet as she tumbles with a football-tackle force into him. They go down together onto the rocky ground. Ava clings desperately to his shirt, as if afraid he will vanish into thin air at the impact. Before either have fully taken to their jarring landing, he finds her burying her face into his neck, sobbing almost hysterically with relief. Her sporadic hiccups seem to be contagious, and for the first time since quite possibly his toddler days, he finds himself holding onto another person like a lifeline and shedding tears that he hardly cares if others see. 

  “I’m so sorry.” Ava manages through uncontrollable gasps, “I’m so, so sorry Leif.-”

  “It wasn’t your fault, I’m-”

  “-I didn’t mean to leave you. I just turned around and you were gone and-”

  “-the one who walked off. I’m an idiot for thinking-”

  “-we looked everywhere for you! We almost went home-

  “-I got so lost without you-”

  “-I didn’t want to, but Noi heard you and I’m just-”

  “-I’m just-”

  “-So happy you’re back.”

The unorganized scrambling over each other’s apologies ends with synchronization. Still sniffling, Ava lifts her head from his shoulder and meets his gaze. There’s a pause. Then broad, toothy smiles replace quivering frowns, and their foreheads press together as they share a laugh. 

It’s around this time that the other four Daemos reach their position, only to find their newly reunited friends on the ground, trying to hold back bursts of giggles. The picture absolutely throws them. More so because of Leif’s bubbly demeanor than Ava’s, though both are certainly a sight to behold-- with tousled hair and dusty clothes, goosebump rippled skin now detailed with red marks where they had slid against the concrete. And yet the two grin and carry on in that way that can only be done after one’s stress-forced sense has left them, their cares evaporating into thin air. Earth truly must be turning them soft, because the once strict and stone-cold warriors- upon surveying the scene- give genuine smiles of their own.

It takes a little bit of time before the pair actually settle down enough to sort themselves out and stand once again. Even then, Ava makes sure to link her arm with his, swearing inwardly to never let him out of her sights again. Leif on the other hand, does his best to recollect himself, not wanting to give the others any more reason to pester him later about the blatant displays of emotion. He hides his flushed face in his sleeve, pretending to wipe a smear of dirt off his face.

  ‘It’s nice to see you again.” Rhys says with only a hint of scolding behind his words, “Though if you ever run off like that again, you’re finding your own way home.”

  “That’s fair.” Leif replies with a shrug of his shoulders. He doesn’t miss how Ava studies his reaction from the corner of her eye.

  “Did you miiiss us?” Asch drawls mockingly, stepping forward with a smirk on his face. Despite the remark, he gives Leif a friendly knock on the shoulder- a habit he’d unknowingly picked up a few weeks ago.

Leif only scoffs, but it tells them all they really need to know. He looks downwards briefly and mumbles something that only the young Prince seems able to hear. Asch blinks in recoil, then replaces his cheeky grin.

  “What was that?” He asks incentively, “I don’t think we all heard you.”

Leif growls a low growl.

  “I said-ugh-thanks for...looking for me.” Then, adding on more softly, “It’s nice to know you guys actually cared enough to find me.”

  “Well duh.” Ava’s response causes him to lift his head in her direction, “I made you a promise didn’t I?”

His mind flashes back to that day they were shopping for decorations. He’d almost convinced himself it was a dream.

  “Yeah. I guess you did.”

  “Besides-!” Suddenly, Noi appears in front of him, beaming in the friendly boyish way that used to get him mocked back on Daemos, “You’re one of us! No man left behind, right?”

  “I-”

  “Exactly.” Rhys cuts him off in affirmation, “Despite your chaotic personality and violent tendencies, you are still an important part of our group.”

  “You-”

  “Yeah.” Asch sighs, carefully selecting his next few words, “I’m not sure where we’d be without our healer honestly. And...I will admit that you’re the only one here who’s any fun to spar with.”

  “Yes.” Finally, Pierce, “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

As Leif gapes at all of his friends in turn, something new solidifies within him. See, when Asch had saved him from execution all those years ago, the Prince had earned his life. And with that, over time, there came undying loyalty. But it was always saved for Asch alone. The others had been tolerable companions at most, at least until they got to Earth. 

Then came along Ava, who unintentionally became their focal point. She was important to him- to all of them. But he wouldn’t have died for her. Not at the start. That problem arose when she became fond of them, and they- in turn- of her. It only took a couple weeks after Leif had admitted to himself that she was actually rather preferable company, that he seemed to swear away to her the same things he had gifted Asch. His life. His loyalty. Fresh off the line went his affection as well. And although at this point, he was close to the other Daemos, he still felt separate. A product of his own mind and the upbringing that was so very different from their own.

It’s taken until now for that last link to click into place. That camaraderie which he’d been lacking now swarms through his morals and rearranges itself among those mental pieces. He feels some of his outlooks shifting. Most importantly, a single, powerful thought plants itself in his mind and takes root.

  “They want me.”

His chest swelling, the most Leif can manage is, “Thank you.”

The sound of quiet shuffling a few feet away accidentally breaks through the touching moment. The emotional bunch all turn their attention to a man standing like a startled cat beneath a nearby tree. Clearly, he had meant to scuttle away unnoticed.

  “Who is he?” Noi asks.

  “Oh that’s  Jingle.” Leif tips his head in the direction of the musical man, who has gathered his meager belongings in his arms. At the mention of his name, he winces slightly and gives a wave, “He’s been letting me sit with him. He's pretty cool for a human. The way he talks is weird though.”

Now, Ava, the Earth and city specialist of the group, immediately recognizes Leif’s apparent companion as a member of a nomadic homeless community that had just taken its annual place in one of the far back corners of the park. She’d never spoken to the man in true conversation, but she can recall exchanging a few words with him last year after she’d heard him playing the exact same guitar he now cradles to his chest. He had an impressive talent that convinced her to deliver him several dollar bills and whatever meager change she managed to hold onto after her sparse commutes to the mall or grocery store. She can vouch for the fact that he does say some fairly strange things on occasion. However…

  “Hey, you’re that chill guitar man I met last year.” She says, hoping to spark some comfort in his cautious air, “Have you really been hanging out with Leif this whole time?”

Jingle nods, shifting into a more permanent stance.

  “You didn’t have to do that. But I’m thankful that you did.” She smiles warmly, “Honestly, I was worried he might have gotten himself into trouble.”

  “It was no problem young miss.” Jingle makes the effort to reply, “I’d seen you all together early in the day, and happened to catch my fellow wanderer out on his own. He looked like he could use someone to hold him steady until his world righted itself again.”

  “Ah...yeah. I don’t doubt that he did.” Digging into her pockets, Ava pulls out five dollars- the sole remnants of cash that was pretty much all spent on food, “Here, please take this. It isn’t nearly as much as you deserve, but it’s all I have.”

The older human steps forward to accept the money from her outstretched hand with a grateful expression. Immediately after pocketing it, he spins back around in the other direction and walks away into the night. Ava silently determines to continue her tradition from before if she can manage to find him again in the coming weeks. But before any of that-

  “Come on you guys. Let’s get home.”