#he had clearly imagined doing insane damage with plants

[zetadraconis11]

HL Incorrect Quote #95

Leander: If you want some extra help in fighting, plants are actually more useful than people think.

MC: I suppose that Mandrake did nearly make me go deaf.

Leander: Precisely! You could discombobulate your enemies with a single shriek from a Mandrake. Then, as their ears are bleeding, you can send a Chinese Chomping Cabbage to gnaw away at their legs, making them beg for mer-

MC:

Leander:

Leander: Ahem... Anyway...yes, plants are very useful in fighting...

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 142

Another late chapter... I’m really batting a thousand lately, seems like.

So, work has been insane, but @baelpenrose reminds me to post when I forget, thankfully. And this is SUCH a fun chapter.  I hope you all enjoy!

I dropped into a seat in Mess Hall Seven with a groan, so exhausted that I barely managed to get soup and a grilled cheese from the console.  Tyche yawned and nodded in agreement before poking at her sushi bowl idly. It was six Von-days after the last drill, and between coordinating increased training schedules for Shelters Three and Seven and helping Charly plan kink-night at the Undine, we were wiped.

“People are ungrateful,” she muttered before managing to barely balance a piece of salmon into her mouth.

I muttered something that hopefully sounded like agreement before I scooped up a bite of my soup with one wedge of sandwich, too lazy to even bother with the spoon. “Remind me why we don’t have Vati and Hannah handling the practice schedules?”

“Because they are handling the extra evacuation drills with Jokul and Arthur.”

Personally, I thought they were getting the better end of this deal, but since the raging success of their first Food Festival, it really was only fair. “And the relocations for those who need it,” I admitted. “Except mine.”

“Conor may actually strangle one of them if any of your plants don’t make it,” she pointed out, gesturing with her chopsticks for emphasis after having given up and using her fingers to eat her lunch. “Not to mention I wouldn’t wish packing with Maverick on anyone.”

“He’s letting me pack the books and textiles.” I shrugged in acceptance after taking another bite of soup-dipped sandwich.

We picked at our food in silence after that, grateful for something resembling a reprieve, before we were interrupted by a flurry of grey hair and enthusiasm landing in one of the nearby chairs with a heavy thunk. “Good afternoon, Madams Reid.”

“Hey, Jokul,” I muttered as Tyche just waggled her fingers at him. I really think I liked it better when he was trying to kill me. Right now, I might even let him do it.

“I know you are both on your meal period, but I wanted to test the waters on potentially scheduling a community activity,” he rushed out.

Tyche guarded her lunch with an almost feral aggression, having heard what happened the last time Jokul had interrupted my lunch. “That should really be something you run by Al-”

“Worthington, yes, I know,” he interrupted. “However, I know you are both quite busy and I wanted to be respectful of your time. As such, I will make this as brief as - ow!” He snatched his hand back away from the other half of my sandwich, rubbing where I had slammed my spoon down onto it.

“I have no idea where the food stealing comes from, but don’t,” I warned him.

“Rude, got it,” he nodded in a terrifying impression of Charly’s normal demeanor. “As I was saying, I recently learned a new type of game from Terra, from the Before.  It involves teamwork, and encourages creativity and escapism, and I think it would be a very good community activity - “

I surrendered to my urge to groan. “We are not doing a redux of Settlers of Cattan. Arthur stabbed someone last time.”

“I didn’t press charges…” Jokul pouted, glancing at the scar on the back of his wrist briefly. “Besides, it was only a fork. Clearly he didn’t mean it, there were four knives in arms reach counting my own.”

Tyche cocked an eyebrow at me. Seriously?

I pursed my lips and wrinkled my nose in response. Yep.

“So what game is it this time?” I asked hesitantly.

I was reward-bombarded with a grin. “It’s called Dungeons and Dragons! Somewhat like a video game, but with more people, and using writing implements and paper. Oh, and different kinds of dice, very important. One person is something of the narrator, to give the game a kind of structure, while the other players act as characters in the game… Ivan introduced me to it, and it is quite challenging with the right people.  The dungeon master - that is the narrator - has to re-evaluate the story based on the actions of the other players, but the players themselves don’t know what the dungeon master is going to do. It is very much a social diversion, and there are many classes….”

As Jokul continued to gush, he was rather oblivious to the fact that Tyche and I were stuffing our faces as quickly as possible to avoid interrupting him or laughing. We had both played when we were younger - in fact, we had been introduced to the game by our mother.  There had even been a very overwhelming pop-culture movement in our youth around the game, which further emphasized just how far out in the boonies Jokul had grown up.  As shocking as it was that he was just now discovering the game, it came at exactly zero surprise that he enjoyed it so much - it was right up his alley of interests.

About fifteen minutes and two more grilled cheeses into his retelling of the campaign he was part of, Charly and Arthur squeezed in with us, their own lunches in tow.  As seemed to be a growing trend, Arthur reached over and snagged one of my sandwiches before I could react, shoving half of it in his face.

That was apparently enough to snap Jokul out of his story. “Hey! Why didn’t you hit him?”

“His deathwish, not my problem,” I shrugged.

Around the remains of my lunch, Arthur managed to enunciate. “Told you, Noah fissed the dairy allergy.”

“Bleargh,” I gagged comically. “It’s okay, think I’m done anyway.”

Jokul’s hand swatted Arthur’s out of the way to steal the rest of my food. “As I was saying, Ivan was quite clever with his resolution to deal subdural damage to the player who was very much ruining the storyline by insisting his character was immune to magical sleep…”

“Oooooo! I love tabletops!” Charly squealed, bouncing in her seat. “What setting are you playing in right now?  My favorite was always Exalted…”

“Miss Harper, I think we are discussing different activities.” Jokul sounded supremely confused, but my heart broke a bit.

Arthur shook his head. “Maybe not Exalted, but what about Ebberron? Swordhaven, maybe?  Just tell me it isn’t Ravenloft… I know you haven’t been fucking around in a Dark Sun, but I beg you to tell me you aren’t playing Ravenloft.”

“I’m not sure what those are… Ivan introduced me to Dungeons and Dragons. There is only one setting.”

“So… Greyhawk or homebrew,” Arthur nodded. “Best place to start, get the basics down.”

Jokul’s head pivoted toward me and Tyche, squinting in annoyance. “You knew, didn’t you? And you let me prattle on…”

“You were so… happy….” I explained plaintively. “We didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

Tyche nodded. “We both remember how fun that first campaign is. And honestly? We’ve been having a kind of crappy day.  It was nice to hear someone be excited about something that isn’t work related.”

“But I came to you to discuss making it a ship activity…”

“Originally, yeah,” I shrugged. “That was maybe the first thirty seconds.  After that, you were doing what literally every tabletop roleplaying person has done since the beginning of time… telling stories about the fun, dramatic, and frankly stupid shit the people in your party are doing.”

“Says the two-foot eight halfling rogue,” Arthur scowled.

“I rolled it at random, it was fifteen years ago, get over it!” I threw my hands up dramatically. “At least I wasn’t mated to a frickin’ deity.”

Charly giggled uncontrollably while Jokul goggled at us. “Exalted is broken in all the fun ways.”

“You literally sacrificed, and I quote ‘all of your fucks to give’, for necromancy.”

“That was your idea!”

Jokul turned toward Tyche, waiting for her to say something. She just held up her hands defensively. “I was a murder monk-bunny.”

Arthur snorted. “You were the Black Rabbit of Inle….”

“Well if my wife would have just stopped dying…!”

“At least none of us were the Platinum Knight who pissed his pants every time he confronted his favored enemy,” I laughed. “He never did live that one down. Every. Single. Dragon. He would crit fail his roles.”

“Oh, please,” Arthur intoned drily. “Did I ever tell you about the time one of my players managed to make ‘Notice me, Senpai’ into the most terrifying in-universe warcry imaginable?”

Charly choked before swatting his shoulder. “Not in front of my pasta. Please.”

Jokul, however, looked both horrified and intrigued, egging Arthur on. “Barbarian whose entire clan worshipped a god named The Senpai…. Just imagine, a barbarian in a rage, bellowing ‘NOTICE ME, SENPAI!!!’ before just scything down thirty men with a broadsword.”

At this point, I was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down my face. “Please, please tell me there was a kilt and pigtails involved….”

Jokul touched his own hair, before straightening as seriously as possible. “They are warrior’s braids, Councillor.”

That was it, I couldn’t take it anymore. I just put my head down on my folded arms and waiting to either pass out from laughing so hard or from exhaustion.  A few deep breaths and a spinning head later, I managed to wipe my face on my sleeve and realized the conversation was continuing without me.  Just as I was clearing my throat to let Jokul know he should be fine to start organizing something and to send me a rough outline, Arthur dealt the final blow.

Leaning over, he whispered over my shoulder. “By the way, the barbarian’s name was Drystan of the Doki-doki tribe.”

I was proud that I managed to get up and dash into the hallway before collapsing against the wall in maniacal laughter.  I barely registered Hannah’s voice behind me asking everyone at the table if I needed medical assistance, and that did not help.

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[wordynerdygurl]

Skin Deep - Part 6

Author’s Note:  Honestly, this story is nearing it’s ending.  Hard to believe that a little idea I couldn’t shake has now grown into this mini-series!  For all my die-hard homies, waiting for the next installment, I hope this is worth your while!  If you’re new here, take a look around, see if you like anything and please, let the management know if you have any questions!! As always, writing like this requires the emotional support of people and pets.  My dogs, Murphy and Winston, get me through a lot of plot bunnies just by being stalwart companions.  My husband, graciously, lets me take these flights of fancy when I probably should be paying better attention to him and his day... and some of my besties here on Tumblr make it possible for me to do this for you guys.  @sammy-jo1977​ , my sister from another mister!  Couldn’t/ Wouldn’t do it without you! To all the folks who follow me... My Minxes!  Love you all!  Stay well, be kind, and remember that Love, really does conquer all!  If you want to be a Minx, send me a note, I’ll happily add you to my tag list! Lastly, be sure to like and share anything that you see on Tumblr that catches your eye.  Creative types, we need the constant validation, you see?  Without it, like an unwatered plant, we wither on the vine and perish!  Be kind to those who help you through the day and reblog! Skin Deep Part 5 - click here for the previous chapter! Pairing:  Loki x Reader, Steve, Valkyrie & Thor all make appearances Summary:  Continued from Part 5, You and Loki put your plan into action, returning to Farmhouse.  When you encounter Steve again, you learn there’s more than two sides to this story. Warnings:  Loki’s POV and perspective, including mentions of his time under Thanos.  I’m re-writing MCU history here, but some of the main beats are the same, so look out for SPOILERS for Dark World, Ragnarok, and a touch of Infinity War.  The SNAP never happened because, reasons.  

Empathy used to seem such a human emotion.  Loki had no time for that on Asgard, not when Odin denied anything as frivolous as feeling.  Hiding in plain sight was the means to survival and if that made the young prince sneaky and sly, so be it.  By placing those parts of himself under lock and key; the parts that hurt, the ones that ached, Loki found it was safer to disconnect from others than subject himself to their suffering too.

Operating under the influence of Thanos and his minions when he held the scepter, Loki had purposefully divorced connection of any kind from his mind.  It was dangerous.  Weak.  And moreover, it allowed Loki to do what Thanos commanded without really experiencing the horror, the havoc, of his actions for himself. 

  Who could hear the screams of women when the voice of Ebony Maw subliminally chanted all the ways that one could be dismembered at Thanos’ hands should Loki fail?  What man would shed a tear after the near constant beatings doled out by Black Order members, just for the fun of it?  How could someone care about a house, a car, a city, when they no longer cared about themself? Losing the Battle for New York had consequences far beyond the destruction of property.  With Thanos’ hold over him vanquished, the walls around his heart, constructed in youth, crashed and burned like the dream of ruling Earth.  Suddenly and completely out of reserves, Loki was powerless.  And he felt everything.  The fresh hurts caused by his manipulated ambitions in the hands of Thanos. The furious feelings of his brother, the inadequacies of his character, the feeble needs that drove his wild ambition washed over him unceasingly.  Anger.  Loss.  Lunacy.  Loki learned a hard truth in that moment.  He was a monster.  A freak.  A creature beyond hope and salvation; proving his adoptive father right and his own hopeful heart wrong.  Bitterness soured the fallen prince. Endless hours in isolation on Earth, which continued in his father's house, had Loki believing he had no chance of seeing the world outside again, and it hardened his heart further.  To feel was so painful, so raw, and so humane.  Why bother anyway?  All that emoting, those high spirits, all they really did was expose you to derision.  What was grief to a goblin?  What was horror to a monster?  What was love to a villain like him?  An evil, conspiring demi-god, with a mind bent toward domination.  A damaged, destroyed, deity alone and in pieces.  Who would ever give someone like Loki Odinson a chance?  Why should they?

Turning to his mother, Loki did everything but ask for forgiveness.  In long rambling talks, her projection to his jailed person, the pair talked around ideas of guilt and innocence, of fate and fortune, of destiny versus desire, yet Loki never heard the words he needed in order to truly find peace.   

If Frigga was aware of her son’s need for absolution, Loki would never know, as their last exchange was harsh and full of anger.  Another stroke of loss, crippling now, because there was nothing Loki could do to change any of it from inside his prison cell.  No illusion could conceal the painful ache that consumed him entirely. 

Those days were dark, even for a soul as dusky hued as his own, and Loki’s thoughts followed a similar path.  If there had been a way for him to shake off this immortal coil, free himself of the burden of living, Loki would have done so and been glad.  Death was welcome compared to all this longing and heartache. But life, even a nearly immortal one, was funny. 

When Thor provided a chance at redemption, Loki snatched at it, in his own detached way.  He played hero, rescuing Jane, aiding his brother.  And if he took a bit more in the form of deposing his arrogant, aging father, who would be surprised?  He was Loki, God of Mischief, after all. Ruling the Nine Realms without the oppressive oversight of his father allowed Loki to prove himself in ways he never imagined.  And Loki wasn’t just good at it.  He was great. Of course, it helped that no one knew he was Loki.  Living disguised as Odin was often unpleasant, frequently frustrating, but entirely necessary.  Being Loki was still too difficult and likely to bring unwanted attention in the form of The God of Thunder, a thing that no one truly wanted, Loki least of all. Return Thor did, along with an unknown sister and the end of Asgard.  When confronted with the insanity of Hela’s bloodlust, Loki’s only thought was of his kingdom, now without a ruler.  He had worked too hard, too long, to see the land he cared for in the hands of an enemy, even if she called herself sister.  Opening the Bi-Frost, panicked, his mind was solely on saving those he had recently held dominion over.  They were his people, after all.  But he never reached Asgard. Swallowing his fear, Loki focused all his energy on staying alive in a new and distracting environment, initially.  What Loki found on Sakaar wasn't a new home base under a flamboyant, ineffective leader that he could control, even if that was his first design.  On Sakaar Loki found his loyalty.  

The proud, deep resonance of being Asgardian, of being an Odinson, of being capable and cool under pressure.  Sure, he had to prove himself to Thor, Valkyrie, Banner and honestly, the rest of the kingdom, but actions speak louder than words.  And through his actions on Sakkar, and by extension rescuing the people of Asgard, Loki had shown everybody his true mettle. It was on the deck of a stolen ship headed for Midgard that  Loki had made a commitment of sorts.  One that was not to the people, so recently saved or for his found family.  This time, the promise Loki intended to keep was for himself.  Loki was going to change. The problem is, a task like that takes time.  Patience.  Motivation.  It was something that Loki had to work at and it was exhausting. They say that the best things come to those who wait.  Loki was learning to wait everyday.  Having earned a place at the side of his brother, he worked tirelessly to win over the heroes of his new home planet.  Was it easy?  Hardly, but Loki wasn’t willing to compromise.  Not anymore. A life like Hela’s was not in his runes.  Loki was simply going to be better.  Not perfect.  No one could be as good hearted as Captain America, nor could one be as tech savvy as Stark.  So Loki was planning on being the best Loki he could possibly be, and that’s how he found himself going to meetings at The Avengers Tower, a mostly welcome addition to the team. Meetings weren’t all that exciting and boredom was an awful temptation for a deity devoted to mayhem.  In fact, Loki spent more time doodling in his notebook than listening to whoever was droning on about whatever part of the world needed the attention of this motley crew.  That was, until Pepper Potts hired her new assistant.  That you were polite, pretty and pert wasn’t lost on the young god.  Sitting outside Mrs. Iron Man’s office, typing away with a phone tucked under your ear, moving faster than anyone he had ever seen was certainly impressive.  You were quick witted, clever and most of all, funny. Everyone else seemed to fall under your spell without much effort on your part, something that Loki found frustratingly fascinating.  Here he was, struggling to get people to say his name without having a traumatic flashback, while you simply smiled and smarted off prettily, and had everyone singing your praises.  But Norns, were you adorable. If he thought about it, and while off planet, Loki definitely had, he could remember the moment he realized that you were the woman he wanted.  You were busy, as always, fielding phone calls and flipping through screens yet every moment your flying fingers weren’t hovering over a keyboard or pushing down telephone buttons they curled around a heart shaped charm at your throat.  Clearly, it was a habit and one that you weren’t even aware of, still - it transfixed him all the same.  Watching you from his side eye, your voice never wavering, your tone always so pleasing, and your nimble digits returning again and again to the small sigil around your neck.  “Loki?” “Huh?”  Dumbfounded at your call, those deep sea eyes blinked wildly at the sound of his name on your lips. “Hi!  Yes, Pepper can see you now.  Go ahead, she’s ready!” He rose on stiff legs, adjusting his tie, about to lie to Tony Stark’s woman all for the chance to see you in passing.  Who had he become? It started out innocent like that, but soon, Loki was having to invent excuses for being in the office so frequently.  Missing files, random visits, even going so far as to buy Tony coffee just for the thrill of seeing you.  Something needed to change, and quickly, or Loki was going to blow. On another made up errand, hanging around the executive’s high rise office, Loki was doing a bad job of pretending not to see you.  His mind was on your pouty lips as you sipped lemonade through a straw and not on the stately woman seated behind the desk. 

“Loki, you’re a man of some… style.”  Pepper said it so casually that he almost didn’t hear, his head lost in thoughts that would shame any other person. “I like to think so.”

Shutting her folder with a snap, Pepper smiled, “And you’d love to help your old friend Pepper out, right?” That got his attention, and quickly.  Loki, shoving his hands in his pockets, turned to face Pepper with a widening grin, “I feel like I’m being baited.”

“Baited?  Never!  It’s just, you’re always here and I have a… project that needs the kind of help that you can provide.”  At those words you entered the office, ready for action with a notebook and pen, eager and excited. Suddenly, it was all clear to Loki, “Pepper, no.”  

The noose closed in on the handsome god as Pepper gathered paperwork without looking his way, “Come on, it’s the Stark Homecoming Gala and the two of you will do great!  I have faith in you both.  I can’t wait to see what you come up with!” “Really, Miss Potts, I simply can’t-” Stopping short, the strawberry blonde whipped around, almost nose to nose with Loki.  Shrewd and straightforward, Pepper interrupted, saying, “You’ve been dancing around my office for weeks now.  Clearly you like her and… against all the odds, she likes you too.  I’m doing you a favor and when someone does you a favor, you say “Thank You”.” “Thank you.” Nodding curtly, “You’re welcome.  Now, make yourselves comfortable, order some dinner, my treat.  And do whatever you need to make sure this is one great party!” That’s how Loki found himself sitting at a clear glass table over sweating bottles of iced tea as you discussed color themes and tablecloths.  You were shy, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you reviewed notes from previous gatherings both large and small.  His hands itched with wanting to do that job himself. “So, what do you think?”  It was the first time you had addressed him directly since coming through the door and for a moment Loki couldn’t answer.  You were too… not beautiful, that wasn’t the right word, although you were.  No, you were too open, too easy to read, and the earnestness you offered him was downright frightening. Sitting forward in the uncomfortable, yet fashionable, office furniture, Loki cleared his throat and again tugged his tie, “What I think is that you should let me take you dinner.” Dropping your eyes, your cheeks colored slightly as your fingers found that locket charm once more, “Loki, I… I don’t know-” Grabbing for your hand, suddenly afraid that you would take those shining eyes away, Loki lowered his voice and did something he never thought he would.  He begged.  “Please?  I find that you’re all I can think about.” It rushed out of him in a torrent, the way truth so often does, and he found himself unable to look you in the eye.  Loki was afraid to see rejection on your easy to read face, afraid that wanting you had cracked open the lock box holding his heart, afraid that you would see just how weak you made him.  Your fingers twined with his own as you replied, “You didn’t let me finish.  I don’t know what took you so long.” Sighing with relief, his face melting into a genuine smile, “Me either.” Over the next two months the pair of you worked tirelessly to plan and execute a perfect party.  You were inseparable during the day, heads buried together as you discussed linens and table settings, the quality of cocktail glasses, and debating over a band or a dj.  But at night, at night Loki talked about the things that haunted him in the dark.  And you loved him in spite of the awful things he had seen and done and said. Others took notice.  Loki was more lighthearted, more available.  He listened when people spoke and wasn’t constantly doodling during meetings.   Yes, Loki was learning how to love through your loving him.  If empathy had seemed too humane before, then sharing his life, his love with you, was the kind of immortality that earned someone a place in Valhalla.  It was the bravest thing Loki Odinson had ever done and he didn’t mind one bit.

The first time Loki tasted you was burned into his brain, as bright as a flash of lightning.  A firefly in a memory jar that he kept returning to, time and again.  Loki remembered what you were wearing.  He recalled exactly how the light shone in your eyes.  If he concentrated, he could tap out the rhythm of your racing pulse as he held you in his arms. It was the night of the gala.  Inviting everyone under the Stark Industries banner, up to and including the heroes tasked with saving the world, the event was a way to earn money for one of the many charities Tony supported.  The place was full of beautiful people wearing gorgeous clothes under perfect lights set to the hand crafted soundtrack you had created together.

But, Norns, he could still remember the way your eyes sparkled under the lowlights of that hall.  How your dress, simple but sophisticated, clung to the fullness of your bottom.  Low cut but somehow still modest, Loki couldn’t tear his gaze away from the promise of your curves, willing himself to find anything else as interesting as the idea of you.  

You were across the room hanging onto Tony’s every word, eyes bright and cheerfully glowing as you sipped champagne.  It made Loki want to do something grand, something suave, something that would demand your attention for his own.  Moving towards you, his tuxedo perfectly pressed and fitting better than it had any right to, Loki looked long and lean.  Each of his steps seemed to echo, even though the room was full of sound, and you turned your head as if you also heard.  Breaking away from the cluster of acolytes surrounding Iron Man, you bit into your lip as the crowd parted, moving closer together one step at a time.  It was one of the sexiest things Loki had ever witnessed. Lifting your glass in a toast, taking in the room of mingling millionaires, wealthy hangers on and Avengers, “Well, we did it!” “You did it, my dove, I just hung around and judged everyone.” “Oh stop.  I couldn’t have done it without you and you know it.”  Playfully you pushed against his shoulder and Loki took advantage, using your momentum to pull you to his side, your curvy figure flush against his own. Crooning into the shell of your ear, his lips brushing over that sensitive skin, “Somehow, love, I think you would have managed.”  Before you had time to think, Loki had melded his mouth with your own, stealing your breath along with your heart.  Loki’s feet moved in time with the music as he pulled into a dance, laughing in his arms, your cheeks hot and your head swimming. You laughing was, without question, Loki’s favorite sound.  Nothing in this world or any other came close to matching the joyful, childlike glee of that enchanting noise.  Loki memorized its melody, the rise and fall of your giggle.  He had craved it, being away for so long, and now he wanted… no, needed to hear it.  But you were the furthest thing from happy at the moment.   

"Darling, please.  We have to go."  Loki tapped his watch, shaking himself free from the memories of your previous life together and barely suppressing his irritation.

Tears filled your eyes as you whipped your arms around Thor’s mighty shoulders, his deep voice grumbly with emotion, "Take care of him, would you?  He's a jerk, but Loki is the only brother I have."

"Of course… always.  And Valkyrie, your highness, I can’t thank you enough for-"

"No need.  Loki, and by extension yourself, will always have a safe haven here in my palace."

Looking on, Loki and Thor embraced almost tenderly before crashing their heads together.  

"Stay safe, little brother."

"Be good, Thor."

Eyes on the sky, Val ignored the show of masculine emotion, chastising your plan, "You’re going to start a war, Loki."

Straight backed, Loki turned to the king, "Not on the grass of New Asgard.  I will take the fight to them, that is my vow to you."

As Loki offered his hand, Valkyrie shook it, with parting words, "Work on staying alive.  You have a tendency to worry your brother."

Solemnly nodding, "As the king commands.  Shall we?"  With that Loki laced his fingers with yours, leading you a few paces away from the people who loved him most, before summoning the magic that had you both transcending space and time.

This time when your feet touched down it was on the familiar turf of the orchard, surrounded by the scent of apple blossoms and the buzzing of happy bees.  Morning had broken and the world seemed full of promise, with the exception of that knot in your stomach.

"Are you ready?  Darling?"

"Oh… yes.  I mean, I still don't love this plan, but-"

"But it's going to work."  Only it was no longer the baritone voice of your long, lean Loki speaking.  In his place stood Nick Fury, leather duster and eye patch in place.

"If you say so!"  And you clutched your own throat as Natasha’s bored tones came out of your mouth.  The suit, skin tight but flexible, molded to your modified form.  All in all, you were comfortable, "The boots are a bit much."

"Ya think?  This jacket weighs a ton."  Pulling at his collar, "Why does he wear a turtleneck anyway?"

"Loki, this is so weird.  It feels so weird."

"Agreed, but then, why am I so turned on?"

Laughing, you shook your false red hair, hands resting on Natasha’s waist, "God, I've missed you."

"Same, dearest.  Now… let's get your necklace and some answers!"

---

 Convincing Bucky to head home had taken a lot of work, but sometime around 2 am Steve had finally seen his friend off.  The house was empty.  Steve felt the same way.

Turning the black velvet box in his pocket, fingers crushed against the fragile fabric, Steve struggled to feel anger.  When that didn't materialize he shot for sadness but even tears seemed beyond his ability.  

With a sigh, climbing the same stairs he had trudged up a hundred times before, Steve started going through the motions of bedtime.  Only tonight you weren’t there to tease him about the wildly inappropriate amount of toothpaste on his brush.  He didn’t have your light footsteps to follow to the bedside or your help with stacking all of your extra, yet entirely essential, pillows on the chair.

Someone must have changed the sheets, he thought.  There was no evidence of you and Loki’s adventurous afternoon anymore.  Steve made a mental note to thank Buck for that little piece of kindness in the morning.

Shucking his shirt, Steve sat on the mattress, a hand to his forehead.  He had lost.  Captain America had been bested.  Beaten.  And by Loki, no less.

Moonlight in silver slivers shone through the window panes, squares of light in the deep of night.  Steve was alone.  Utterly and totally alone.

And there was no one to blame but himself.

Sighing hard, Steve stood, pacing the floor to work off some of the unspendable anxiety he kept creating.  The room still had your energy, your vibe, as you liked to call it, and the feeling was a prickling itch Steve couldn’t quite satisfy.  Traces of you were everywhere and something about you leaving all of it, and him, behind was just too big to process. “Damn it.”  Even whispering sounded like thunder in the silence of your recently vacated room.  His hands, so big, so strong, smoothed along the fabric of your hanging clothes.  All that power had done nothing to help Steve get the thing he wanted. Sorting through the baubles and trinkets on your dresser, bottles of perfume he had purchased, necklaces and pins, each with a moment of memory it hurt him to recall.  Your watch ticked away the minutes as he stood, stoic and still, surrounded by the shadow of you.  In the orchard the birds were waking, their song filling the air, as morning broke in low golden rays.  Abandoning his plan for sleep, Steve watched as the light chased away the dark, casting rainbows on the floor.  The sun was reflecting off of your Grandmother’s necklace.  A pretty, ancient, carved cameo,  heart shaped locket.  He recalled his own mother owning one just like it, pictures of loved ones pressed inside, holding them as tight as history would allow. Fisting the filigree chain, winding it around his fingers as if it would somehow undo what he had done, Steve slipped it into his pocket before settling back onto the bed.  ----

At the back door to the home you so recently shared with Steve, Loki hung back, “I think this is where we split up.  You go find your treasure and me… I’m going to find some answers.” Nodding, Natasha’s signature red hair swinging, you squeezed the hand holding your own.  It no longer looked like Loki’s long fingered paw, but that was only a skin deep change.  You felt the undeniable essence of him in the press of his fingers against your own. “Be careful.” “That’s no fun, dove.” “Loki-”  You hated the way your voice broke as you said it, but there just seemed to be so much at stake and you had already lost him once. Sensing your unspoken concerns, Loki flashed you Nick Fury’s best smile, “I will.  I promise.”

“Ten minutes.” “Ten minutes.”  You watched the black coated back of your charmed paramour as he opened the shed door, hoping that he’d find something worth knowing in that place out of sight.  Inhaling deeply you twisted the doorknob as quietly as possible, letting yourself into what was once your kitchen, “What a mess.”  It was impossible not to notice the unwrapped leftovers and empty bottles littering the table.  An overturned trash barrel, crumpled beer cans littering the counter, things that Steve, your Steve, would never have tolerated.  All evidence that the grand evening he’d envisioned had been thwarted by Loki’s arrival and your collective escape.  

You started up the stairs, praising Natasha's footwear for its stealth, when you heard the toilet flush and the unmistakable shuffle of Steve’s feet on the carpet.  There was no place to hide on the wide stairwell.  It was time to see if Loki's plan was going to work.

Voice blurry, eyes rubbed red and raw, you couldn't deny that Steve looked like shit, “Bucky?  That you?  You back?”  Steve’s voice bounced around the brightening room as morning sunlight filtered through the soft sheers you had picked out for exactly this reason. Panicked, you backed into the railing with an over loud “Oof!” “Nat?  What are you doing here?  I thought you and Fury were headed to New Asgard?”  Suddenly wide awake and wondering, Steve rushed to your costumed side, eager for information. The man in front of you now bore little resemblance to the angry Avenger you had escaped from hours before.  This man had hair sticking up in odd angles from near constant finger raking.  This man had a hint of a stuffy nose and red rimmed eyes, all indicators that tears had been shed.  Now those blue eyes were scrutinizing you closely, full of concern.

“Uh… We... We got intel.  Yea, intelligence, that Loki was headed back this way.  Turned around… and uh, here we are.” One of those sandy blonde eyebrows lifted, “Natasha?”

Squaring your shoulders, channeling that cool confidence you’d see Black Widow display over and over, “Steve?”  Something about your tone of voice convinced him in a way your words couldn’t.  He visibly relaxed, those broad shoulders going slack as he asked, “Didn’t make it to Norway, then?"

Nodding a negative, you felt the unfamiliar brush of her red hair at your cheek and had to fight the urge to tuck it away, “No.  Loki’s using some sort of transporting power to move them around.  Fury suggested I keep an eye out here, in case they come back this way.” “She won’t be back, Nat.  There’s nothing for her here.”  To you, Steve sounded so sad, so removed, that you had to will yourself not to comfort the giant before you.  “That’s not true!”  It came out of you forcefully, thoughtlessly, and you saw the shock register on the Captain’s face. “That is, Fury and I… we… have reason to believe that she will come back.  They left with nothing, Steve.  She’ll need clothes… maybe some shoes… and-”  Swallowing hard, you didn’t want to give anything away, “-a necklace from her grandmother.” Steve, patting his pocket, felt the weighted chain and it’s heart shaped locket, “I don’t think-” Stepping up to his bulky form, suddenly aggressive, you started, “Never mind what you think, Captain.  We're here for a necklace...  the necklace.  Our intel suggests that your former flame might return for it and… And, I want it, with me, as a means to subdue her when she arrives." Sounding forceful and official was enough to back Steve down.  Just a touch deflated, you watched him shrug, “If that’s what you want, Nat, here-”  From his pants he pulled out the shining bauble, a trinket really, but full of sentiment and memory. Sitting in his palm, the tiny heart that held the picture of your grandmother and mother looked so small, almost unreal.  Reaching for it with wet eyes, you smiled at Steve as you lifted the charm and chain, “Thank you, Steve.  Thank you.” Nodding deeply, that golden head bobbing, “You’re welcome.”  The large grandfather clock could be heard ticking throughout the house.  The sun was gaining on the day and you, dressed as Natasha stood in silence in front of a somber Steve.  For another long beat nothing was said, then, as if sensing a shift in your conversation, Steve flashed your fake Natasha a weak smile, “I could use some breakfast.  How about you?”

“Um… sure.  Yea, ok.  Breakfast.” 

Steve started moving again, downstairs towards the cluttered kitchen when he paused, "So how did you get back so fast?  Cause that's like a 7 hour flight, even with you in the cockpit." “Steve…”  You could hear it, the whining almost pleading tone that signaled the end of Loki’s well planned charade.  That wasn’t enough to stop Steve.  He broke hard, one of those strong arms stopping you in your tracks before you could reach the lower level. “It’s clever, I have to give you guys that.  Almost perfect, really.” Panic rising, you doubled down on the ruse, struggling to keep your voice even, “I don’t know-”  Blocking you in, his body the perfect unmovable buffer, “Loki’s here too, isn’t he?” Pushing against “Steve, I… I don’t…” “Don’t lie.  You don’t have to…” “But… how-?” “You’re not mean enough to play Natasha, doll.  Not by a long shot.”

--- It was strange to be seated at the table and chairs that you and Steve had picked out together one sunny Saturday when you thought that your future was going to be Loki-less.  Your place, the one that you had imagined filling with children that had golden hair and bright blue eyes, felt like a set.  Something false and fake.  A facade, put together simply for show. Steve must have felt it too because his fingers drummed against the white washed table incessantly.  Clearly he had something on his mind.  “Steve-” “No.  No.  Please, let me just get this out, ok?” Raising an eyebrow, you waved at him to continue, nervous but interested in what the super soldier needed to explain. With a shaky inhale, running his constantly moving fingers through his golden locks, Steve caught your eye and didn’t waiver.  “When I saw you… No, that’s not right.  Let me start at the beginning. “When Loki left Earth, you… you were so sad.  It hurt me to see you so… deflated.” “Steve, I-” “You know it’s true.  When he returned to Asgard, something in you, it dimmed, and I just couldn’t allow that… Not when I felt the way I did about you. “I don’t think you realize just how incredible you are… how full of life!  And since I had already missed one chance to be with you, I knew I needed to prove that I could be the man you needed… If you forgot about Loki along the way, even better. “Only… you never did.  I waited years for you, ya know, doll?  Years.  And just when I thought there was no chance with you, Nat gave me a reason to hope. “She was your friend.  An ally.  Someone you could trust… someone I could trust.  I swear it started out that innocently, at least for me.  I just wanted to make you smile again.  But she had other plans.  Plans that came from higher up the ladder of SHIELD. “Fury, he wanted us to watch you… something about Loki being too powerful.  And-”, grabbing your hand tightly, Steve emphasized his point, “-I promise you that I had no idea about his success, or the messages he had sent to you through Nick.  Like you, I thought that Loki was gone.  Missing.  Never coming back.” “I… I believe you Steve.  I know that you didn’t do all this on your own… but what was Nick hoping you’d find out?  I knew less than nothing about what was going on!” “I think he was worried that Loki would get to you first.  That if… when Loki returned, you would be his first stop.  Then you would know about Loki’s success and, frankly, Fury’s failures.  You would also know… well, everything you know now.  That Fury had you tailed, lied to, and led on in an effort to stop Loki from out flanking him.” Frenzied and frantic, you felt anger boiling up inside of you, “But I thought Loki was gone forever.  There was no hope for him and I… and Natasha, she told me that he was dead.” “All a part of Fury’s plan to keep you neutralized and Loki away.  If Loki thought that you’d ignored his letters, that you no longer loved him, why would he come back here?  And, if that didn’t work… when Loki came back and you were with me, what else could keep him on Earth?”

Whispering with realization, “So, they used you too.” Steve sighed and buried his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, “Don’t feel bad for me.  I let them use my love for you, let them twist it up and shape it as they needed.  Honestly, I wish I could tell you that it was for you, but it wasn’t.  It was for me.  I wanted you, so, so badly.  I didn’t care what strings were attached.  And we built a life together, you and me.  I thought I could outrun the reality of the constant monitoring and daily reports.  Telling Natasha and Nick about every word and each email.  Don’t you see, I love you… and I wanted you, however I could get you.” Shaking your head, Natasha’s red wisps flying, “That’s not love, Steve.  I don’t know what that is… but love isn’t it.” “No?”  With a loud thunk, Steve slammed a small velvet box on the table between you. “Is… Is that what I think it is?”

“Last night.  It was going to happen last night.  Our friends here, under the lights and the stars, I was going to ask you to marry me.  I still would if-” Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, “If Loki hadn’t stepped back into our lives.” “-If Loki hadn’t stepped back into your life.” It made you both laugh in a sad way, how you finished the same thought, and for a fleeting second you could see why you had allowed Captain America to sweep you off your feet.  He was a lot of things to you now, but there was a time when he had been almost everything.  The evidence of that was in the small black square that said nothing but spoke volumes. “Steve, I don’t know if I would have said yes… even without Loki’s… arrival.  I think I have always known that you and I… we are very different people.” Sitting back in his chair, his gaze still locked on your own, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.  I’m sorry about what I’ve done… what I’ve said… How, shit, how I’ve behaved.  I could say that it was my duty.  I could tell you it was out of love, but the plain truth is that I have always been jealous of what you and Loki share.” “You’ll find it Steve.  You really will.  There’s a person out there waiting for you.  And once you’ve found them, oh Steve, you’ll see that this… what we had, it’s a shadow.  An illusion.  Because love, real love, doesn’t come with caveats and catches.  It is an undeniable force which, in my case, even the boundaries of time and space can not deny.” Something like a sob burst out of Steve, and you were surprised to see tears in his eyes, “I was so wrong.  Could you ever forgive me?” “I want to, Steve.  I really do... “  What more could you say?  Patting his hand you started to rise, “I have to go now.  Loki and I need to keep moving and I don’t want to risk running into Nick and Natasha.  At least, not yet, anyway.” “Where are you planning to go?” “To the Avenger’s Tower.  I believe I know what Mr. Fury has been planning all along.”  Loki’s strong voice entered the conversation as smoothly as his arms wrapped possessively around your waist. Steve took in the protective stance of your returned lover with a raised eyebrow, and without further comment asked Loki, “Really?  And how are you going to breach the building?  They’ll be looking for you, even with disguises…  Fury is no fool.  Plus, there’s little chance that Tony hasn’t activated a million safety and security protocols by now.” Only interested in you, Loki refused to give Steve any of his attention, “Getting in can’t be that hard!  I’ll figure it out when I get there.  Ready pet?” With a gentle push under his broad hands your feet started to move towards the door.  Loki was eager to be off and away, especially after hearing so much of Roger’s confession.  Just knowing what Steve had done, manipulating you while also convinced of his love for you;  it was enough for Loki to commit murder.  He was having quite a difficult time not tearing the good Captain’s limbs off his body. Softening his tone, Steve practically pleaded, “Loki.  Wait.  I… I can help.” Turning his attention fully to your former flame, Loki purred venomously, “You can help?  I’d love to know what entails, Captain.” “I can get you into the place and take you exactly where you need to go.  Fury’s going to hate it, but I’m tired of taking orders that hurt the people that-”  His pause was as lingering as the look he gave you, “- That I love.”  Before Loki could offer a sincerely sassy reply you grabbed his sleeve, tugging, “Um… Excuse us a minute Steve.” Pulling him down the hall of a home that felt like a familiar faced stranger, you waited until you had a bit of distance from Steve before harshly whispering, “How long were you listening?”

Serving you that small, sexy smile, Loki grinned, “Long enough.  How did you know I was there?” “You are sneaky, but even you, God of Mischief, cast a shadow.” Swinging you close enough to catch your mouth with his own, Loki pressed a sweet kiss there before answering, “A mistake I will be careful not to make again!” “The tower, huh?  That’s where you want to go?”  Grabbing you at the swell of your hips, grinding his frame against your own, “Where I want to go, my darling, is to the nearest bed, preferably naked, with you and you alone.” Your hands traced over the lapels of his borrowed leather duster, pausing only to jerk him closer by the supple fabric, “Hmm… is that so?” “Oh yes…”  Loki’s buttery grumble filled your ear as his strong hands dug into the flesh of your bottom.  For a moment you thought he’d give in to temptation, his sweet lips teasingly close to your own upturned mouth, “But-” On your toes, leaning into Loki’s sturdy, leather draped frame, you paused, “Ugh.  But?” Moving you to a safer, less kissable, arms length away, Loki sighed with the same frustration you felt, “-But, where we need to go, as soon as possible, is the Tower.” Moaning grumpily, you stepped out of the arms you longed to linger in, “I was afraid you were going to say that.” “I know it’s less than… ideal, love, but I did find something useful before the good Captain unburdened his soul this morning.” “And that is?” “Fury’s plan.  At first I couldn’t figure out exactly what he was after.  What did Fury want?  How was I involved?” Loki was dragging this out, loving how it kept you hanging onto his every word, and you rolled your eyes, “Well?  What is it?  Weapons?  War?” “All of that, yes… and… yours truly.”  That triumphant smile that filled Loki’s whole face lit up his mischievous eyes.  Tilting your head, struggling to make sense of what Loki had just told you, “What do you mean, you.  Fury wanted you… to do what, exactly?’ “Loki was going to be the patsy.” You both turned toward the sound of Steve’s baritone at the door, suddenly remembering that the Good Captain was still there and that he was waiting to see what you were going to do next.  Leaning his 100 year old bones into the doorframe, Steve crossed his arms, “The fall guy.  An example of what happens if you cross SHIELD.” “I think, my dear Mr. Rogers, that you mean, I am to be used as an example of what happens if one crosses Nick Fury.”  Loki countered, slinging an arm over your shoulder protectively. The idea was frightening.  A man like Fury had too much power, too much at his disposal.  Just knowing the lengths he had gone to in order to keep you and Loki apart was scary enough.  Making enemies of your friends.  Threatening the people you loved.  Selling your affection to Steve in an effort to control Loki.

Now, the knowledge that all of it was done in an effort to ensure that Nick Fury was the toughest guy in the galaxy, it made your stomach clench.  “What do you mean, an example?” “Unless my intelligence is flawed, I believe that Fury was going to kill me.  Is that correct, Captain?” Steve felt the weight of two sets of eyes on him.  Yours, full of fearful love and blind hope that this was all just some misunderstanding.  Innocent and naive and as lovely as he could ever remember.  Loki’s were reflecting a deeper understanding.  The kind of knowledge that only time in the trenches teaches. There was no answer from Captain Rogers.  None was needed.  Honesty, final and resolute, was out in the open.  “Look.  I know I’m not the guy you want on your side.  I’ve… I haven’t been the man I needed to be.  Not for you-”  Steve locked his bright blues onto you, offering a small smile that spoke of sadness before facing Loki, “-Or you, Loki.  But if you let me help you now, I promise that I can get you into the tower and maybe, one day, you won’t think so little of me.” 

Around you the morning gained strength.  Somewhere nearby birds chirped wildly, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in the modest little farmhouse and its implications on intergalactic politics.  Without  moving a muscle, Loki plainly asked you, “Do you trust him, dearest?” Squaring your shoulders, you crossed your arms, staring down the man called Captain America.  Nodding decisively, “I do.  I don’t think he’d spill everything like that only to turn on us.  He’s not so bad Loki, really.” “We’ll see about that.  For now, we trust Steve.  Ok, what’s your plan, Rogers?” --- “Hey.  I… I have one other thing to show you.”  Steve was dressed for action in his branded tactical gear, looking every inch the super soldier that Dr. Erskine envisioned. “Steve, we have to get moving.  Loki’s eager and -” “Just open it, ok?”  The envelope was thick with folded paper, the flap tucked under and not sealed.  Clearly it had spent time in and out of pockets, the edges frayed and tattered.  In exasperated curiosity you gingerly pulled the sheets free.

Shaking, your hands trembled holding the once white documents as your voice thickened, “Is this… is this what I think it is?” Cocking his head playfully, that rueful smile pulling at his full mouth, Steve almost seemed cheerful as he teased, “It’s yours.  I think something about this place has always been yours and I want you to have it.” “But-” Folding your small hands in his mighty ones, Steve squeezed gently, “It was a wedding present, or it was supposed to be.” “But we’re not getting married.” “I know.  Still-” “I can’t, Steve.  It’s yours.  Your house, your farm, your dream.” Shaking his head, disagreeing, but feeling lighter than he had in decades, Steve insisted, “Too late, I’m afraid.  It’s done.  Actually, that version of the deed has been signed since our second week here.” As realization sunk in you appraised the man changing right before your eyes, astonished but exhilarated, “Where will you go?” “I dunno.  Think I might need to be alone for a bit.  Maybe see the world… but first-” “First, we have to stop Nick Fury.”

To Be Continued... My Minxes:   @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity​ @mizfit2​ @sammy-jo1977​ @wolfsmom1​ @jessiejunebug​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @jenjen8675309​ @that-one-person​ @roguewraith​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

[themurphyzone]

PatB: Snowball Ep Talk

You know, I really do love the episode Snowball (my personal favorite AKOM episode) but I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it here much, and if I did it’s probably really only because of the flashback sequence. 

Okay so all looks good so far. Chain letter scheme and superstition, a standard introduction to Brain’s latest plot of world domination. All looks good. Plus I just like this shot of Pinky. Don’t mind me, just starting off light here with a smushed Pinky. 

I just like Pinky’s pose here. He’s so cute. 

You will bow before Troz.

“I met a Snowball today! Right here in the lab!” -Pinky

You know, I just find the implications of this line hysterical. This means that Snowball was in the lab that day, waiting for the moment to strike, and he definitely pushed his stolen chain letter through the mail slot. 

And then he lets Pinky see him, and no it’s not just a passing glance either cause Pinky specifically describes a tattoo with an A and a circle and points to his leg. Which means Snowball deliberately lifted the fur on his leg and showed his tattoo to Pinky. 

Like, wow. 

“It means, Pinky, that evil lurks among us. By the name of Snowball! SNOWBALLLLLLLL!” -Brain 

Talk about a bad breakup. *Alexa play Bad Blood*

Personally I think one of the interesting visual cues is that Snowball purposely plants himself into the mice’s space. There’s a lot of that in this episode. He knows how to rile up Brain and hit him where it hurts, namely through Pinky. 

Brain values his personal space, and he values a sense of control. When Snowball invades that space, Brain loses control, and his anger can lead him to make some very ill-informed decisions. Which is exactly what Snowball aims for. 

“You think Pinky is an asset?” 

“Anything I can take from you is an asset.”

Ah yes, Snowball’s mission statement. Crush everything Brain has into dust. 

The flashback sequence. Dear God this flashback sequence. They were both so cute! 

You know, it’s really sad that a younger Brain acted more like Pinky. Making silly faces and trying to get someone to laugh are such Pinky things to do. I know canon is loose but if you consider this flashback taking place shortly after Brain was captured from the wild, then young Brain didn’t gain a grasp on what happened to him until after the gene splicer.  

Ok but Brain was literally right there when the gene splicer exploded. Imagine having your cranium size dramatically increase, you’re injured, you’ve suddenly gained sentience, and as if all that wasn’t enough, you see the gene splicer explode with your only friend inside. 

Oh, and said friend’s mind was probably damaged in the explosion and now he hates your guts. And though you’re angry with him for his betrayal, some part of you will never stop caring about him. 

Once again, Snowball needs to learn to keep his hands to himself. 

This conversation here establishes Snowball as the perfect third character. He appears only in a handful of eps, but he’s fun to watch and love to hate. Snowball challenges the mice’s relationship. Snowball sees the weak points; the insults, the reliance on each other, and twists them to his advantage. And Pinky even admits he’s hurt by Brain’s insults occasionally, though he still loves being around him. 

“Pinky, the Brain doesn’t care about you. He’s just using you.” 

“No, he’s not.”

It’s really interesting to me how Pinky denies Snowball’s statement, yet his ears go down to show that he’s affected by the idea of being used. Pinky and the Brain may be night and day, but one thing they do have in common is their tendency to deny certain things. Brain with emotions and affection and Pinky with concepts he’d rather not admit the possibility of. 

Coming back to this later. 

Non plot related but Brain is teeny tiny and I love how he just trusts Pinky to catch him

Side note: I apologize if any of these screenshots look weird. It’s an AKOM ep. 

WHY ARE YOU TWO SO BAD AT SNEAKING AROUND. 

I just find it hilarious how they clearly run around where Snowball can see and hear them. Like they just shout Snowball’s name in the middle of the room. You’re terrible at being sneaky little mice. Please. 

Those dang boomers and their old timey 90s computers. Technology is ruining boomers. Can’t even hold a conversation anymore cause they keep looking at their screens. 

No touchy! 

Well, it’s awful nice of Snowball to engage in nepotism and offer Brain a position in his administration...and then tempt Pinky with an amusement park when he refuses. 

You really gotta appreciate the complexity of Snowball’s plans. Stealing the chain letter fails->plant seeds of doubt in Pinky’s mind, even if this doesn’t work right off the bat, the idea will still be there-> take over a corporation->impersonate Bill Gates->When the mice show up, offer to co-rule the world on expectations that Brain will refuse->make co-ruler offer to Pinky->wait for Brain to open his big mouth and drive Pinky away. 

All to take everything Brain has. His dignity, Pinky, his meager resources. Like holy Snowball, Batman.  

And then Snowball reveals the amusement park he had specifically built for Pinky. 

And here we have the most heartbreaking line of the ep. If I had the ability video edit I would’ve put the entire line on audio because Brain’s tone is very important here. It’s about 12:38 to 12:57 in the ep if you want to see for yourself. 

“Oh, go ahead, Pinky. I don’t need you. What did you think, I just have you around so I can steal your brilliant ideas and claim them as my own? That I’m just using you, Pinky? Oh yes, I’m using you for your brilliance!” 

First of all, very poor word choice, especially to someone who has trouble understanding sarcasm. I just want to dissect this statement here. 

The Literal Meaning: You’re an idiot to think you were ever more than an assistant. 

This is what Pinky hears. 

But if you listen to Brain’s tone rather than just reading the line, he sounds genuinely hurt that Pinky would ever be tempted by something as frivolous as an amusement park. It’s Pinky, so he just sees ‘ooh fun rides, cotton candy, and carnival games’! 

But Brain is perfectly aware that this is Snowball’s well-crafted method of taking away the only thing he truly has, and he knows it’s working. And he’s hurt. 

The Actual Meaning: Snowball’s trying to separate us and you’re falling for it, Pinky. You may be an idiot, but many of my plans never would’ve come to fruition without you. You’re much more than an assistant. You’re my friend and my world.  

Unfortunately, all Pinky hears is that Brain was only using him. That Brain values him for manual labor and an extra hand only, rather than a treasured companion. The fact that Brain often falls short of making Pinky feel appreciated just adds to this. 

And now that he no longer has Pinky, Brain’s spirit is crushed. Brain is persistent, but without Pinky, he has no reason to be. 

As far as he knows, his only two friends have turned their backs on him and couldn’t care less if he has nowhere else to go. 

Poor thing. He needs hugs. 

“I didn’t think it was possible. Humanity has actually gotten dumber.” -Brain

OK I think this one shot establishes what the world would be like under Snowball. His name is everywhere, and he tells the population to do stupid things just to bask in his own superiority. 

However, I can’t see Brain putting his name on every building so frivolously like this if he ruled the world. Sure, he’d name a bunch of things after himself and Pinky, but it would be more meaningful to them. 

Brain wants humanity to advance, not regress. 

Poor Pinky. Despite all this new extravagance and luxury, he’s also lonely. The room and bed are large, but it lacks personality. He’s sleeping with an ACME Labs snow globe, and other than a reference to Citizen Kane, it also shows that he’s not happy with this. 

The worst thing in the world for these mice is separation from each other. 

Suicide by cat. 

Poor little guy can’t make it on his own. Luckily, he snaps out of it. 

“My world. I must save MY world!” 

Said while looking at a picture of Pinky. Real subtle there Brain. 

“Look, you fool. You have no brilliant ideas. I’m only using you to get at him! So just stay quiet!” -Snowball

“You’re...using me?” -Pinky

He was just a bargaining chip. Never a friend. 

“What do you want?” 

“My friend. And MY world!”

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

He makes martial arts noises like a dork. I love him. 

I love how their characters are reflected in the mecha designs (also I had no idea Snowball was Iron Man!) 

Snowball’s is overall the more efficient design. It’s also much more combat ready and violent. In comparison, Brain’s suit is simply operated with a bunch of levers. It’s alright for peaceful situations like getting around faster or simply blending with a human population, but in a straight up fight the levers take too much time to operate. 

Snowball is more efficient than Brain, and while he’s got the ego, he lacks the insecurities that hold Brain back. His confidence makes him such an effective foe. And more importantly, Snowball doesn’t value Pinky’s companionship. He’s a tool and nothing more. Compare that to Brain. While Brain struggles at showing it, he ultimately wants Pinky’s input and values his jumbo-sized heart. 

Somewhat off topic, but I feel like the reboot missed this aspect of Brain and made him too overly edgy and violent (reboot!Brain would probably prefer Snowball’s mecha design over his counterpart’s). The only time Brain should become violent, if not for comedy, is when he’s protecting Pinky. His plans should have a level of restraint to them, and Pinky is the moral compass.  

I just like this shit-eating grin right here (I mean, he did eat shit in Welcome to the Jungle so...lol)

This is such an insanely clever move for Pinky. I feel like Brain would be like ‘oh my god Pinky!’ and then ‘wow, that’s actually brilliant what the heck is this tingling feeling’. 

ACME LABS IS IN NEW YORK CITY??????

I know this is a case of Where the Hell is Springfield but gdi aren’t they supposed to be in southern California. 

Ok fine I realize the ending to this ep is a reference to North by Northwest cause they somehow got to Mt. Rushmore but still 

Weird tangent but North by Northwest’s ending bothers me (not gonna fault this ep as it’s just a parody)? I’m sorry the girl is barely hanging onto Mt. Rushmore, the dude pulls her up, and then they have sex in a car. The sudden transition always seemed weird to me. 

I am ending this analysis post with a weird shot of Snowball cause i can and it’s his episode. 

[pandoraborn]

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 16

( previous. )

-----

Characters: c!Puffy, c!Phil, c!Techno, c!Dream Word count: 1776 Content: blood, violence, mention of war, brief family reunion, major character death, grief

-----

Puffy scours the ‘battlefield’. There are already explosions being set off around her, with buildings being destroyed. In the days between Quackity finding Tommy and now, she has to wonder if they’d snuck back to plant more TNT.

Or had they come beforehand?

Around her, people are screaming and running. People she wouldn’t normally give a second glance to, but she recognizes a few of them, in varying states of panic and anger. Niki goes flying past her with an iron sword, and Hbomb is following behind, shouting for everyone to follow him.

Puffy considers joining the pair, but she marches along the prime path, wincing at every explosion happening nearby. She doesn’t know where Tubbo or Quackity are, and she has no idea where Sam went. 

Puffy hopes her friends are safe.

The dragon is a lot closer now, and Puffy’s starting to realize how big it actually is. Dread pools in her stomach, causing her to stop and stare up at the sky. Everything else is background noise for a split second, as all she can see are those menacing purple eyes, and the purple fog that the dragon breathes out.

When someone jostles her, Puffy lurches forward and turns to see who is next to her. It’s Phil. Phil’s already armed with a sword, though he’s using his hand to push her back.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Puffy,” Phil says. “But that dragon doesn’t discriminate.”

Reaching into her inventory, Puffy immediate dons her armor. It’s all iron, as she hadn’t had a chance to craft netherite yet. She keeps her gaze on Phil though, watching every movement.

Her sword though, that’s made of netherite. Pulling that out next, Puffy lifts her sword, pointing the tip in his direction while also stepping back. “I’m not running,” she insists. “You’re all insane, you know that?”

Phil merely grins. “I was trying to give you a chance,” he responds. “I’m more than happy to cause chaos. Done it before, doing it again.”

“Haven’t you done enough damage?” Puffy asks. “The last time you caused this much damage, we lost an entire country. Your son built that!”

“My son?” Phil tilts his head to the side, letting a brief silence settle over them. “Correct my memory here if I’m mistaken. You were there at the prison the day Dream broke out, right? Tommy and Ranboo both said everyone was there.”

“Do not talk to me about Tommy!” Puffy snaps. “You all hurt him, over and over again!”

“Were you or were you not there?”

“I want you all to take your dragon and leave us alone,” Puffy says stubbornly. “We did nothing to you.”

“Anyway.” He’s speaking as if she hadn’t said anything. “You all watched Wilbur exit the prison. Wil, who worked with Dream long before his death, long before the revolution. They were apparently in cahoots when Pogtopia was operational. This wasn’t my idea.”

“You can’t blame Wilbur for that,” Puffy snaps. “He wasn’t in his right mind! He needed help and no one was-”

She cuts herself off there. Something is shifting into place in her mind, and she doesn’t like what conclusion she’s reaching. Rather than dwell on it, she drops her sword and attempts to do something she probably shouldn’t:

She lunges for Phil with her fist. She should have remembered that Phil is far older than her, with far more practice, and far more allies on his side that the last time he set off explosives. He’s side stepping her, and within a blink, he’d moved behind her, twisting her arm behind her back.

Struggling against his grip, Puffy starts swearing loudly. “Let me go! I swear I won’t hesitate to kill you!”

“You really think you can kill him with your bare hands?” That voice isn’t Phil’s, it’s Techno’s. He steps within her line of sight, smiling wildly. He looks wild, eyes far too wide, smile too big with too many teeth showing. This is clearly his idea of a fun time, and Puffy nearly recoils.

“I can sure as hell try,” she mutters through clenched teeth. “After what all of you did to Tommy, I’d love to see all of you burn in your own dragon’s magic breath.”

Techno starts laughing. “You think Tommy was being held against his will or we dragged him here kicking and screaming?”

Puffy wants to hold onto the mental image of Tommy. Sweet, obnoxious Tommy who always had a witty retort ready and a fire in his eyes. She wants to still hold out hope that Tommy will return to her. Them.

“This was Tommy’s idea,” Techno continues. “ See, he was pissed about Quackity shooting him with an arrow. Sure, it was an accident, but you know what they say about a broken person with nothing left to lose.”

She doesn’t want to hear any more. This is slander. Techno had always hated Tommy, she’s sure of it. Rather than lash out verbally, Puffy kicks her leg up, hoping to hit Techno right in the jaw. She wants to see him stagger back in pain.

Unfortunately, a third hand grabs at her leg and holds it in place. Techno backs up, still grinning wildly, though now he’s staring at the newcomer. With a frustrated scream, she tries to wretch her leg from the person’s grasp, only for them to squeeze her ankle hard enough to almost hurt.

“Hello Mother Duck,” comes the voice. This stops Puffy. Going limp against Phil, she stares out at the person attached to the hand. It’s Dream. He’s wearing his usual outfit; the bright green shirt, black pants, and instead of wearing his mask properly, it’s resting against the side of his head.

“Dream,” she says softly. “Dream, what have you done?” Tears fill her eyes. This is the first time she’s seen him since...since before Tommy was released from exile. She had thought she moved past him, but seeing him now brings tears to her eyes.

“Is it cool if I call you mom?” he asks. “I know that we’re not officially family, but you did kind of adopt me. I wanted to check up on things.” Dream’s wearing a more serene smile. He doesn’t look like a maniacal villain, he looks like her duckling: peaceful, happy, and calm.

For a second, Puffy almost believes. She can almost believe that the world around her isn’t going up in flames, and that there isn’t a dragon attacking the SMP. Right now, it’s just a mother duck and her duckling, reuniting at last.

“What have you done?” Her voice sounds foreign to her own ears, filled with despair. The world comes back into focus, and behind her, she can hear someone scream.

“What I should have done ages ago,” Dream says casually. Bending down, he picks up her sword. “The problem wasn’t L’Manburg.” Dream scoffs. “The problem wasn’t the countries or the buildings or even Tommy. Tommy wasn’t the one who brought attachments, all of you did. All of you were so selfish about everything. From buildings to random items, even pets. It became a cluster fuck of everyone blaming everyone else, and people kept getting forgotten or left behind.”

“You messed up the most!” Phil’s grip on her loosens enough for her to straighten up. Puffy wants nothing more than to take Dream into her arms and hold him close. She also wants to drive a sword through her stomach. “You hurt the most people, you have to pay!”

“Believe me, Mother Duck, I am paying. I’ve been paying for it, and I’ve decided I’m tired of paying for it. Which is why we’re here.”

“I’m going to stop you,” she replies flatly. “It’s my duty.”

“It was your duty to protect people, and you did a lousy job at that.” Dream spins the sword in his hands. “Believe me when I say I do love you. For a brief time, we had a happy family, until you replaced me with Foolish.”

Her blood chills. “Don’t touch Foolish.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Everyone’s going to suffer, he’s not special.” Dream continues to wear that same smile, almost matching the mask he’s wearing. “But sometimes things have to be done a certain way in order to achieve our goals. You of all people know that.”

“Dream...” She’s pleading with him now. Begging for him to come back, begging for him to instruct Phil to let her go. She almost misses that Techno had already left somewhere during this conversation.

“I’ll tell Tommy you thought off him. Phil, step back.”

The pressure on her immediately leaves. Nearly falling back, Puffy stumbles to keep her balance before facing Dream again, arms dangling at her sides. She’s confused on what Dream meant, in regards to Phil, but the answer-

-oh.

She has on diamond armor. It’s meant to protect her, it’s meant to help her when there’s danger nearby. But somehow, Dream had managed to find the cracks in the armor, the tiny little exposures. It was enough that he rammed her own sword through her stomach.

Puffy stares down, unable to talk. She’s unable to comprehend why she’s bleeding, but feels no pain. Confusion blots out all coherent thought, and instead, stares at her duckling.

Is it her imagination, or is Dream crying? Are those tears streaming down his face, or are they tears blurring her own vision?

It doesn’t matter, anymore.

When he yanks the sword back, she falls forward. Puffy’s jumbled thoughts are of the people she’s come to love: Foolish, Bad, Tommy, Eret. Sam. They all held a special meaning to her, and were all lovely people.

Niki. She’d cared for Niki in a special kind of way. More intimate, even if toward the end they barely spoke. She’d miss seeing Niki’s smile.

And Dream...

Dream’s arms around her, catching her fall. His arms slowly lowering her to the ground, his arms cradling her, wiping blood from her mouth.

“Duckling...” Puffy tries to reach for him, but she’s so, so tired now. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It didn’t really hurt to begin with. Dream’s holding her and crying, and Phil’s somewhere to the right of Dream.

“I’ll see you soon,” Dream says gently. He kisses her forehead, and then leaves her. She’s laying on the cold ground and watches as he and Phil walk away.

With the remaining strength she has left, Puffy turns her gaze to the sky, just in time to see the dragon fly overhead. The dragon breathes down on her, encasing her with the most beautiful purple haze she’d ever seen. The last thing she’ll ever see.

And the war rages on.

[realm-sweet-realm]

A one-off request for @lonelyghostwriter: a story about Joey introducing Henry to the more innocent side of magic. This is just a goofy, whimsical ball of fun, and Joey x Henry is implied. This is the last one-off before I’m finishing “The Angel of the Ink Machine.”

The Boris had come out perfect.

The Boris had come out perfect!

And then it had decked him and run away to God knew where, but it had come out perfect! Joey was ecstatic. All he had to do now was hunt the creature down and make a few more and his dream would be fulfilled! And in the meantime, he had one more dream that he needed to fulfill, one that concerned his dear partner, Henry.

Despite sharing so much of his life and soul with Henry, he’d always kept the magic secret from him. He’d moved nearly all his supplies into the studio when Henry had moved in. Even the spell he needed to do regularly to keep disease at bay, he completed before Henry got up in the morning, with a pentagram hidden under the carpeting in their closet. But seeing their cartoon creations brought to life was worth the risk of scaring him- and anyhow, Joey Drew had planned how he’d do this years ago.

After dealing with Buddy’s body and before coming home that night, Joey made calls to Allison and Sammy. It was late, and in the excitement he’d forgotten that he’d fired Allison out of anger mere hours ago. Thankfully he’d been able to bribe her into one more session of potion-making. Sammy hadn’t picked up at all, but Joey could make do without him.

---

Henry woke up, far too early, to Joey shaking him awake with a big smile on his face.

“Huh? What is it?” Henry asked.

“I have a whole day planned for us. Get up! We’re meeting Allison soon. There’s something- a lot of somethings, actually- that I need to show you. You have an hour to get ready. Alright?”

“Uh, okay!” Henry was kind of used to Joey being full of surprises. He was fairly sure this would be a good one- they usually were. Within an hour, he was in the passenger seat of Joey’s car.

Joey took a deep breath. This would be the difficult part- admitting all he’d been hiding from Henry for the past few years. “So, Henry... you know how I tell you that Sammy and I go bowling together? Well, that’s not entirely true. Sammy and I share a hobby, but it’s one I didn’t know how to explain to you without showing it to you, and... anyhow, we perform magic together.”

Henry didn’t miss a beat. “Oh. Okay, the thought of Sammy doing stage magic is pretty strange. But it seems right up your alley- why did you hide it from me?”

“It’s not stage magic. And you’ll see why later.”

“Oh. Um.” Henry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Great. I can’t wait!”

A while later, they pulled up to a lovely brick house on the outskirts of town. Over the short wooden fence, Henry could see a lovely hutch of three rabbits. The garden had a lot of browning plants in it that clearly weren’t getting enough attention. “Nice place- must have cost a lot to get one in this area. Who lives here?” Henry asked.

“Allison,” Joey answered, ringing the doorbell. “I borrow books and buy potions off of her. And we’re going to make potions with her today.”

Thomas opened the door, rolled his eyes and called for Allison before retreating into the garage. Then, Allison popped her head in.

“Hey, guys! Sorry to call you here so early. But you know- early is the only time you can get fresh morning dew, and for what we’re making, that’s pretty important.”

“Of course,” Joey said. “I brought everything we’ll need. Let’s get cooking!”

Henry had been put to the task of chopping up herbs as Joey mixed three strangely-labelled vials into a pot of boiling water and Allison was outside collecting morning dew and whiskers from her rabbits. He was pretty sure at this point that this was some bizarre prank. Hopefully there would be some kind of payoff to it and this wasn’t just a waste of a Saturday, but at least Allison seemed pleasant enough.

“So, where do you get crow’s blood from?” Henry asked, a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“A crow!” It didn’t seem like a good idea to tell Henry about the black market- at least, not yet.

“Okay. So, what’s this potion supposed to do?”

“You’ll see,” Joey said cryptically, “this is actually a pretty powerful one.”

A few minutes later, everything had been added, and the potion had boiled for just long enough, according to Allison. She scooped some out into coffee mugs with a ladle and handed it out to Joey and Henry.

Henry stared down apprehensively at the unappetizing mix of herbs and hair floating in the clearish-brown substance. “What’s it going to taste like?”

Allison smiled. “About how it looks, I’m afraid. But go on, down the hatch. Oh, and the effect might startle you, but it isn’t supposed to last long, so just try to have fun with it.”

Henry did as he was told, and Allison took his cup. He started to feel... heavy, and off-balance, and dropped down onto his hands. All traces of red melted from his vision, leaving the world in tones of blue, yellow, and green. Joey ruffled his hair, and it seemed as though his skull was smaller and thinner than usual. He said something that Henry heard as gibberish. Then, Joey took a sip of his drink, handed the cup to Allison, and before Henry’s eyes, turned into a black lab.

Henry yelped and skittered backwards, and yelped again once he caught sight of his own paws. But Allison was laughing- she seemed unconcerned, and she had said that this was temporary. So, Henry rolled with it. Allison ushered the two of them into the backyard, where they played fetch. A while later, as Henry was trotting back to Allison with the tennis ball in his mouth, he felt his teeth dull and his center of balance change once again, and he spat the ball back onto the ground. Joey came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, Henry? Do you believe in magic now?” Joey asked.

“Yeah, it would be pretty hard to deny at this point.”

“Thank you. Because I have a whole lot else to show you.”

Joey returned to Allison. “And thank you! I’ll miss this, you know.”

“I’ll miss it, too,” Allison admitted. “I’ve never made a potion this advanced before- and I might not have much use for it, but imagine the kind of money I could make from this! Oh, and thanks for testing it for me.” Allison went quiet a moment. “Let’s keep in touch, alright?”

Joey weighed his bitterness with his desire to do just that. “Sure.”

With that, Joey and Henry got back into Joey’s car and they took off to their next destination.

“So... you’ve been doing stuff like that for years?”

“Well, yes and no. Allison is more of a specialist than I am. Unfortunately, the stuff I’m most into has a bad reputation, but I’m going to show you that it can be just as innocent as Allison’s potions.”

Henry nodded. After literally turning into a dog, he wasn’t even going to try and guess what Joey had in store. After a few minutes, Henry found himself gazing out at a wooded area on the edge of town. Henry figured that Joey must have been driving to another city, but instead he pulled over onto the side of the road and  ushered Henry into the brush, taking with him a bag. Finally, Joey reached a clearing and dropped the bag.

“This is the place,” he announced.

It was an untamed natural area, with no trails made through it. No one was likely to come out here. It wasn’t pretty either- just a dusty field surrounded by trees.

“Sammy and I spent our first few sessions here. I spent some of my first sessions here alone, too- learning to summon things. And now, I’m going to summon something for you. A demonstration.” Joey’s back was turned to Henry- he was scared of how he’d react.

Henry was beginning to worry- Joey sounded like he was trying to seem positive, but it wasn’t working.

“What kinds of things? And how?”

Joey met Henry’s eyes. Henry didn’t seem too afraid yet. Still, there was no easy way to explain this. “We summon spirits and Gods from the spirit realm using pentagrams. The spirit realm isn’t hell, spirits aren’t demons, and Gods aren’t the Christian God. No religion is right about everything. Spirits aren’t angels and demons- they aren’t fully good or evil any more than people are. But it’s the more reckless ones- the fast-and-easy-with-the-rules ones- that are likely to come when you’re summoning one. Pentagrams are like a ‘help wanted’ add for spirits and Gods. They have a job description, which are in the pentagram itself. Pentagrams are like writing in their language. And, they have an offering of pay. The sacrifice for spirits is generally flesh or blood. Tasks that are more difficult for them, you want to leave out more of a payment, or the ritual has a higher chance of failing- no one took the bait, basically. Or, someone did, but thought your offer was so insulting that they found a way to bungle it up. Gods… they demand a greater sacrifice. But summoning Gods is considered insane even by pentagram users. A spirit won’t escape unless your pentagram has line breaks, and there’s a limit to how much damage they can do. As for Gods, well… even I don’t know how to contain them, or the consequences of letting them escape…”

Joey broke his somber monologue with a bright smile. “So, wanna ask a demon to grab us some lunch?”

“Uh...”

“Okay, I know I made that sound scary. But I’ve... actually been doing a summoning ritual every morning to keep myself healthy for years. It’s no big deal.”

Henry smiled awkwardly. “Can I maybe just watch?”

Joey smiled back. “Sure.”

And so, Henry watched. Joey drew up a pentagram in the dirt, lit a candle in its center, and then slit his wrist and let his blood drop onto the pentagram.

Henry rushed to the bag and pulled out a first aid kit to tend to Joey’s wound. Henry had seen the scars on Joey’s right hand before, and had seen them seem to grow and stay fresh, but he’d never gotten the chance to really look at them before.

“Y’know, this is actually a huge relief. I mean, it’s a lot of things, but... Joey, I thought you were self-harming, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. I’m glad you’re not.”

Joey smiled. “Thanks. So, are you okay with this?”

“I mean, I guess so. It seems shady, but you aren’t harming anyone.”

“Good. Because I’ve been working with the Gods of the spirit realm, and with their help, I brought one of our cartoons into existence. And I didn’t want to hide the magic from you anymore because I couldn’t imagine leaving you out of something that big! The toon I made is a Boris. He’s scared, and hiding somewhere in the studio. After lunch, will you help me coax him out of hiding?”

Henry’s face was lit up with awe and disbelief. “Oh my God. Of course! I can’t believe this! Joey, you should have told me sooner!”

Joey could practically feel the weight of secrecy leaving his shoulders. He still had to keep the murders away from Henry, of course, but he didn’t mind that. The murders weren’t a part of him. Magic was. “Thank you. I should have known I could trust you.”

At that moment, the pentagram glowed, and a picnic lunch sprang up from the ground.

“Let’s go see what those demons sent us for lunch.”

[yanderecandystore]

TUMBLR DIED BEFORE I COULD FINISH BUT imagine the collector unsuccessfully attempting time and time again to trap a ( albeit disguised ) god that turns out to either be much older/wiser or much stronger then he is. chaos ensues

Hey boo! Don't worry I got your ask. Tumblr can be so rude sometimes, all you need is your WiFi to drop one bar low and all that you have done is gone in an instant.

This may be a little different than what you expect, but I still hope you enjoy it!

TW/Tags: Smoll caos with a hint of potential fluff/angst (because I'm feeling soft, kay? 🥺) // God complex coming both sides, so there is a lot of sassiness // I think that for the sake of this headcanon, reader will be an humanoid-looking god // I'll give the reader the ability to choose which type of entity and title they have, but that may cause a little bit of disimmersion when it comes to reading, so yeah just an warning.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

This has nothing to do with the headcanon, but Papyrus is the best skeleton boy you'll ever meet [Yandere!Eldritch OC x God!Reader - Headcanon]:

So, I would imagine that your first encounter would be very, very interesting.

I'm gonna let you choose which type of god you're in this headcanon. Are you one of the greek gods? Perhaps an african god? One of the various entities in Asia? Or are you completely different from all of them? Are you a cosmic entity that just so happens to look like a human? It's up to you darling.

You, [Y/N], were simply walking around a garden you grew to appreciate. At first you thought that receiving this type of gift wasn't really needed, but having buildings built in your name and glory it's pretty flattering. A whole garden built in your image, the statues fit this place perfectly, the only thing missing is the shrine that the humans are currently building.

What a lovely day, right? Yet, the sound of something being pulled out of the ground with immense force made you realize that there was a newcomer to your garden.

Maybe you're familiar with the white masked creatures from the beyond, or may be not. Maybe you just see them as a strange monster that has started to… steal the trees in your garden? You can't tell whether to laugh or to take great offence to this ridiculous sight.

A being tall and grand as the sky above, stealing plants from your garden, but to what cause exactly? What is their gain? One can't help themselves but to be curious over such a fascinating sight.

Your approach to the situation is one of pure mischievous nature, but not letting your guard down, as you aren't so sure what this stranger is capable of doing just yet.

"- Well, hello." You try to take their attention out of your beautiful flowers. He wasn't picking one by one, he was taking the entire bush and… Consuming them? There is an immense amount of light every time he puts them behind his mask, what could be underneath that if not a face?

"- Oh! Greetings." He says turning his head to look at the direction of the voice, only to be met with a little human greeting him. He still doesn't seem to be really bothered by your presence, as he continues his activities as usual.

"- Gorgeous flowers right?" You ask, still wondering if he realizes that none of these plants are his.

"- Indeed, it's beautiful specimens such as these that need to be guarded somewhere more safely, don't you think?" He asks, although his whole time is pretty distant from the present conversation. He probably does think you're just an ordinary human.

"- Yeah, I sure think that the owner of the garden is taking good care though." You respond, hoping he has some sort of sense to understand that he is in a private area, taking things that aren't his.

"- Well, they seem pretty lonely over here, and besides, I haven't seen anyone taking care of them." He probably already noticed what you're doing, trying to make him feel bad for taking them away. But honestly, he didn't saw anyone here to take care of them, so it may as well be from no one.

And if it is from no one, is his now.

"- Are you perhaps the owner of the garden?" He asks, now paying close attention to you. You seem to be an upper class human, lavishly adorned by those jewels and fine silk, it would make a lot of sense of you were the owner of such an extravagant place. Are you perhaps made at his entrance into "your territory"?

"- Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, why the curiosity?" You ask while making your way to seat down at one of the stone benches near the creature.

"- Just wondering why you're so interested in my presence. I guess I'm not wanted here." He was going to go back to… Wherever the hell he is from, but you decided to stop him right there.

"- Wouldn't it be rude for you to leave without making an proper introduction to the host? And hey, what kind of host am I if I let you leave this place while having such an unpleasant experience?" You make a little sign to tell him to seat with you. I mean, metaphorically, he can't really seat at that tiny little bench with you.

This interesting encounter lead to an surprisingly interesting conversation between two beings that are very similar yet aren't fully aware of it. The Collector sees you as a really intelectual human, almost so close to understanding his own feelings towards the other creatures around him, and you think he could be just another kind of monster with an oddly endearing superiority complex.

The type of "yes, sir, I do shiny like a thousand stars" it's strangely very entertaining to watch. You're both art lovers, and seem to have an great fascination with the living creatures around you, even if they're a "beneath" you two.

If only this conversation could least longer, if only he could held his hoarding erge, but he couldn't.

"- This conversation has been the best I had in eons!" He squeals in excitement.

"- Yeah. The feeling is mutual." You say being completely honest. Although, he didn't think you were being serious on each word you said.

"- I think we'll have a great time when I put you in the jewel box." He starts to stand himself up, his legs making mechanical noises that almost overpowered the sound your voice when you said:

"- Uhn…. The what?" You asked genuinely confused about this turn of events.

"- Oh! Well, I like to call it jewel box but if you want an precise description is an pocket dimension containing my vast collection!" He says absolutely eccstatic about this! His hand starts to go towards your small form, successfully picking you up in a really gentle way.

"- An collection? Of what exactly?" You decided to go with this just out of curiosity. This is starting to become concerning and interesting!

"- Of living creatures such as your beautiful little self." He answers, but without waiting your response, he pulls his mask slightly to the side as an strong amount of light hit your eyes making you temporarily blind.

He thought he had managed to transport you with the plants he had stolen to his little storage dimension, yet he was proven wrong when he heard an voice say:

"- Wow! That was…. An interesting and short ride! Absolutely terrifying!" When he turned around he saw you adjusting yourself as you speak. Man, who would've thought being transported to another dimension would be like this?

And of course, he is shocked. How??? How did you do that? How did you managed to get out? Have you even went inside??

He was starting to check his mask to see if he could feel anymore new cracks, or if the mask was damaged in any way. Luckily for him, his mask hasn't been damaged at all, yet he was still left with unanswered questions.

"- H-How?" This is the first time in his life he has ever stutter, he felt so confused and afraid because he couldn't understand what the hell just happened!?!

You turned your head to look at him, your once welcoming mischievous face wear a more serious expression, almost an scorn.

"- So, this is what you meant by loving the "lesser creatures"? The ones that can't protect themselves from the almost of power you harbor? You capture them and put them in your personal little playground?"

You asked him, scolding him as you came forward to his towering form. You looked straight up at his eyes. Or more accurately, his masks holes for eyes. He is so shocked at this outcome that his first reaction is to distance himself from you, walking back in desperation.

If any of his kind saw this pathetic display, they would probably laugh at him to no end.

"- I should have known better than to trust someone so soon. I should have banned you from my garden, but now? I'm kinda glad I got to see your true nature-" You didn't stop your march towards him. You only stopped when he was corned by the mountain against his back "- You vile mons-" You were cut off in the middle of your rant by a large hand picking you fast as he tried once again to shove you into his light. Into his dimension.

He needed to confirm he hasn't went insane. No, no, this couldn't be possible, it had to be impossible!

How can you stop the teleportation midway and go back like nothing happened???

"- Were you listening to anything I said?" You once again appeared near him, clearly mad at his futile attempts of imprisoning you.

He… Is shaking. Uncontrollably. His body is shaking in such a pace that even the mountain behind him seem to be suffering from the earthquake caused by his sudden shaking.

You weren't understanding what was happening, and before you could try to get some answers his whole body freezed the moment an crack was audibly coming from his mask.

He was getting so, so stressed over this predicament. He needed to calm down. He needed to understand what was happening and who were you to be able to do this to him!

"- I.. I have underestimated you." It's all he managed to say. It's all he could process at this moment.

"- Well, I guess I did as well." You thought he was only another monster hanging around your garden. You didn't expect such powerful abilities being used to harm others.

Your later encounters were, well, kinda bittersweet at first. He kept stealing jewelry and kidnapping habitants of your world. You did try to fight him, but you soon learned that he was essentially a walking bomb. A cosmic one at that. To kill him, you need to break his mask, breaking his mask causes an immense explosion that will consume everything around it, and then turning all that mass into a new star with a new solar system.

And there is a slight possibility of him rebirthing with the star and the new planets. You were considering consulting other entities to create an weapon capable of destroying his kind without causing too much destruction. You have yet to decide your next move.

You two had, interesting encounters. No fighting, no trying to harm or to trap one another. Just… Talking. Just like you two did in your first meeting.

As the centuries pass you notice how he still wants to keep you in his little playground, which still disturbs you to no end, but at least he has stopped picking more victims to his dollhouse. His attempts are still futile and naive, yet, you can't help but feel concerned about his cracks in his mask. Not only the possibility of it breaking causing an massive massacre against all that you love and care about, but- You can't help but be worried about him.

You have soon learned what the cracks means to his kind.

"- Hey, look, stop- Sigh, stop trying… Please." You try warning him, not wanting to see him overstressed again.

He looks at you, and although his mask doesn't show, you feel that he is looking at you with confusion and tiredness. He knows you're just like him, so it makes sense that you can't be trapped inside his dimension.

Is, kinda of a thing about his kind. There is an common understanding that if you love something, you put it where no one will be able to harm or take it away. They can't physically put each other inside their pocket dimensions, but saying that you do it for them if it was possible is kinda an emotional phrase to them. It's an weird equivalent of "I love you", but they aren't aware of how this types of feelings work, so whenever they say it, is supposed to be really special.

Even if to the majority of the universe, it sounds incredibly concerning and possessive.

He just- He just really wishes he could take you with him, to keep you with him.

He doesn't understand why, he just really wants to, and the frustration of not being able to is killing him (literally).

"- Why are you-" He tried to muster an question, but he feels so weak and pathetic that he can't even ask you why you care about him. You interrupt him, shushing him up in hopes of it easing his mind.

"- Just, please, don't say anything. Don't think about anything. You'll get yourself hurt if you do."

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Jesus Christ, I'm really sorry if this isn't what you were waiting for anon, I'm really sorry but I still wanted to share it so here it is- 😭

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[treechangeseachange]

The return

It’s coming up to 3 months since we returned to our block and it took us 8 weeks to slow down. On the weekend we slowed down we enjoyed the first official Friday night catch up with our neighbours as the full moon rose. On Saturday we went out for brunch. No sport on Sunday morning meant a sleep in. I played handball with my boys for the first time ever in my life. Lamb shanks slow cooked on the wood heater. We squeezed in a late Sunday afternoon fishing trip. It took us 8 weeks to find some calm. We had forgotten how to do normal. I haven’t written for this blog since um wow December?! My leisure time since then has been extremely limited and when it occurred I prioritised my mental wellbeing and sleep.

This journey has brought me to the edge of my psychological and physical limitations. I watched my husband do a terminator style non stop renovation while trying also to commence a rebuild. His promises to take time off over Christmas dwindled to 2 days. There was so much to do. I helped with whatever jobs I was able to and then focussed on the household and occasionally, our boys. Midway through January this year we realised trying to work on both the renovation and the rebuild was insanity. The local real-estate market was booming. Post COVID, Sydney city dwellers realised they could put in a few days in the city then work from their coastal holiday pad the rest of the week. We decided to get our investment property, come bushfire haven, onto the market before the summer ended. We mapped out each remaining job and the days required to accomplish them. We calculated selling time, settlement time and remaining bank balance. What were need to do’s and what were optional extras. If everything went to plan, we could pay to get some work done at the block and make it habitable enough to move into. It was an extreme test of time, energy and resources.

It worked. We listed by the end of February, sold in three weeks and settled five weeks after settlement. I write that all in one glib sentence. Of course all of that only happened with considerable focus and effort. Life for the boys was hectic. 99% of their toys were packed and moved into storage weeks before the house went on the market. As the house neared completion we stressed about them damaging something. When the house was on the market we stressed about them getting things dirty - the walls, the windows or the cupboards. I banished them from the bathroom, they had to brush teeth in the laundry and shower outside. Luckily it was warm and didn’t rain much in those few weeks! Anyone who has sold a house while living in it knows how painful open homes are. The logistics and effort of cleaning and styling, while working full time from home, scheduling everything between work appointments, getting the dog out of the way and the boys to school, nearly broke me. Thankfully the selling process was short, but we packed a lot of opens into that time and by the end of it all, I had become a shouty, grouchy mum and wife. It was also a real highlight to hit menopause and bring some phenomenal hormonal energy into the mix. Phew.

Before we packed up and left I was lucky enough to have a week away with the boys. My fully wired self hit Melbs and my family gave me refuge and forgave my intensity. We managed some fun and the change of scenery was a big relief. Husband, however, stayed behind to work on the temporary shed home. Holiday behind me, I returned to packup and clean and polish the house for the financial return of our lives. Literally.

Can you then imagine our triumphant and spectacular return to our block bathed in happiness and light? Um well perhaps instead picture this - we arrived exhausted to an unpowered, work in progress temporary residence in the middle of a mice plague and endured 200ml of heavy rain in four days leaving us surrounded by mud. Happy to catch the rain in our tank? I wish! The new tank leaked 8000L the week before we moved, and only our neighbour’s spare tank loan meant we had any water at all. But being so small, it overflowed and made even more mud. The heavy rain was so loud on the tin roof it frequently woke the kids in the night (who then woke us), mice ran across the floor, huntsmen spiders dropped from the ceiling. With nowhere really to unpack things, cooking became like the biggest ever memory game, which box were the bowls in? Where did I pack the cutlery? The rain delayed our solar power install so for 10 days we lived out of an esky and by torchlight. We both kept working full time, getting the boys to school, after school sport commitments and then husband kept building after he got home and into the night. After a week of stress and chaos we knew something had to give, fortunately husband could take time off work to focus on our build and family life.

Fast forward to now. The financial pressure of the summer has eased. The temporary living quarters are functional and steadily improving. We have a beautiful wood heater. Our off grid solar system is powering us even during these short winter days. I have more kitchen cupboards than ever before, plus a dishwasher! I have hung up my clothes in a full wardrobe for the first time in nearly four years. The boys each have clean new wardrobes. Their separate rooms are still being built so they are in what will be our room which is insulated and wall paneled. We can cope with an outside shower and toilet. My husband is a legend.

What’s it like actually being back? I confess I was nervous about my own and the boys emotions. Eldest son is extremely happy to be back. Youngest son has taken time to adjust but that has more been due to his fear of the dark. The noises of the bush are unfamiliar and there are no streetlights out here! There has only been one time where a prebushfire memory overwhelmed me. Every person’s bushfire experience and recovery is unique. Unlike many others we are fortunate have the opportunity to not have to build on the exact footprint of the old place and I think this is psychologically helpful. It’s not the same space, and with some trees dead and gone the landscape is altered, its a slightly different perspective. The boys are older now, so our lifestyle is different too. Slowly we are finding a new rhythm on our land. The boys are absolutely loving being back on their bikes on bush tracks.

I was excited to resume my morning walks, although maybe not as excited the dog! He’s happy to have his off-lead roam again. But the first week of walking I found tough, the burnt and recovering state forest I traverse didn’t bring me the joy it used to. In the heavily logged areas where only isolated saplings were left unlogged, they couldn’t survive the heat of the fire or they didn’t have community trees to share nutrients through their roots to support recovery. The undergrowth is now the canopy and is booming with all the extra sunlight but when I look at it, all I see is fire hazard. Then as the weeks went by, my view softened, I recognise the bush is healing like me. I am appreciating small wonders of nature. A spider’s web highlighted with morning dew or the fascination of new plants thriving. There are trees that have fully recovered, others seem to be doing well, and there is much green in the landscape to enjoy.

On my morning walk I also see which animals are about in the night from what they leave behind. There is at least one very busy wombat! We see wallabies reasonably often and last week one morning I found big roo prints in the clay right near our place. We hear a boobook owl calling most nights and more frogs chirping croaking from the gully than I ever remember. Which now makes sense, we definitely were in drought for some years prior to the fires and the creek has this year been running for months. Less exciting is hearing foxes at night, my son especially dislikes their eerie calls. In daytime the bird life is altered. We are down to one lyrebird, there used to be two with adjacent territories battling loudly with their extraordinary mimicry. But at least there is one, how a ground bird survived I can’t imagine. The yellow robins aren’t around us now, we have wrens in the cleared spaces and in the lush shrubs busy brown gerygones dart and chirp. A shrike thrush has made a nest in our bushfire remains pile, her song is piercing and wonderful. Rarely are the yellow crested black cockatoos here now. This past weekend we did see two circling wedge tailed eagles the silent assassins of the sky wheeling high over the gully with that phenomenal wingspan.

Surprisingly my greatest source of happiness in these first few months being back has come from the sky. Unobstructed by buildings, the sky feels bigger in the bush. I’m loving the late winter sunrises. My very favourite time is just after the sun has risen when the horizontal sun rays set tops of the trees bright orange. Those are magical minutes of golden tinged trees. The sunsets. The stars. The moon. the sky has been a revelation and a source of happiness. Maybe because I’m spending more time outside I notice it more. Seeing glittering stars through the steam of a hot outdoor shower makes the cold walk inside completely worth it!

Slowly I am regaining my sense of gratitude for this place. The quiet. The privilege of not seeing another house. Having no curtains and that not mattering. Not worrying about noise and neighbours. Lack of street lights at night.

All of a sudden things aren’t hectic and we are settling in. It still amazes me after 6 moves in 5 years how intense moving is and then how imperceptibly things transition to not being new anymore. Normalcy sneaks up on me every time. Clearly this isn’t really normal but we’re enjoying this new start in our old place.

[a-mole-of-iron]

Short story: “In Broad Daylight“

Living in a solarpunk utopia has got to be not only healthy and prosperous, but also safe, to really count - right? And for the most part, it is. But even in a world where everyone is well-off, communities all around the world live in peace and harmony, and everyone is on first-name basis with nature, there still might be a few rare wrongdoers who stay up nights trying to figure out how to take that away from the world. And to find those, you need the kind of person like Sverrir Haraldsen; a detective of the people.

Genre: solarpunk thriller Content warning: mild violence, and also moderate action

PREFACE

There exists, and has for a long time existed, a common and persistent misconception about utopian fiction. Whenever one brings it up, one can always count on an obstructive response like "but where do we find conflict and plot if everything is already perfect?" This idea, I should clearly state, is false. The term "utopia" itself has a double-meaning, possible to read as "ou-topia" ("no-place") or "eu-topia" ("good-place"), and it's the latter that so many people underestimate the massive literary potential of. When people bring up the idea that "utopian fiction has no room for conflict", they're presuming that a utopian society would not just be a perfect society, but a perfect society filled entirely with perfect people. For some reason, it's difficult for many to imagine that even in a society that's good to live in, people would still be able to have arguments about the different good things that they want, or that they would need to maintain society against the natural wear-and-tear that adds up over time. People don't think too often of all the literary conflict inherent in building a resilient society that won't wear down easily due to factors in the environment, or building social structures where people can "agree to disagree" and still have all the good things their society can give them, or defending those social structures against an occassional bad person or group thereof who are willing to harm others and damage society for their own gain and are deliberately ignoring whatever kindness might still be in their hearts. Those are all fine sources of literary conflict - and this story sets out to show how a particular one can work. It is a utopian, solarpunk thriller: a practical example of the way you can have high-stakes action, danger, and excitement in a society that has achieved peaceful harmony, renounced war, and sees violence as a measure of absolute last resort.

THE STORY

Anxiously pacing back and forth along the embankment, Sverrir tried to put together the pieces of the puzzle. He stopped, his tail swishing from side to side. Try as he might, he couldn't contain his seething dislike of the entire case. He needed a drink of good tea, he needed a day off for gardening, he needed a friendly, fun game of parkour tag with his community at home, he needed a ticket to an in-person concert by the original lineup of Solar Flares. What he had was a coat, a phone, and a badge.

Sverrir was distracted from his annoyed thoughts by a voice coming through his earpiece. "So what do you think, Detective?" the machine intelligence on the other end asked, their synthetic voice resonating through the comms channel.

"Well, Amos... you told me yourself who this is." Sverrir said. "Robert H. Price... knowledge dealer, with a shady reputation and criminal connections, as far as we could find out... and he was shot to death. It's like a small forest of warning flags." He looked around to notice more clues. "Huh."

"What?" Amos asked him.

"I... think the shooters were firing from a boat. There are bullet holes over there, in the advertisement column." he gestured over towards one standing inland. The column's OLED display had several punctures in it, the screen image distorting subtly around them. Sverrir walked up to the display and eyed the bullet holes. "I don't like this, Amos." he said.

As Sverrir looked around, eyeing the local buildings and all the different plant species growing around the area, a crime scene examiner walked up to him with more information. "I think you'll want to see this, Detective." she said, holding up a damaged combat rifle bullet.

"Okay... illegal military weapons... this day just keeps getting better and better." Sverrir groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "On the plus side, now I'm dead-certain that these are our criminals... and more, that they are running out of options. If they went so far as to murder one of their partners in crime, well..." he said with an unpleasant grimace, his speech trailing off.

The detective went over to the community watch car; a light, compact electric vehicle painted white and green that was small enough to park anywhere without blocking people's paths. The interior and trunk were full of forensics equipment, with the one community watch driver having brought in the entire forensics team to the crime scene. Sverrir picked up a solar-powered bullhorn - rather pointless, but indisputably cool - that was resting on the car's back seat, and addressed the half-perplexed, half-scared onlookers. "Attention, citizens!" he said. "If you're from this district, please search through your recordings for potential evidence! Anything, literally anything, might help!"

***

In a few minutes, a small crowd has assembled around Sverrir, sharing information about what they saw and heard and downloading records from their phones and other computing gadgets onto his personal device. The evidence confirmed Sverrir's theory: sonic triangulation from the community's recordings of loud ambient noises, ones designed to measure noise pollution, allowed him to know that shots were fired from about six metres off-shore - and to his horror, the weapons used were fully automatic rifles. Intercepting the contraband weapons shipment they were used to guard, and likely belonged to, was now the absolute topmost priority he had; those kinds of weapons were insanely dangerous and banned worldwide. From the soundscape, he also knew that the shooters made off in an electric-powered speedboat of unknown make and model. However, he had no concrete leads: the sousveillance turned up no video footage, and the witnesses had little information beyond being woken up around 4 AM by what sounded like firecrackers to them. However, when he was already wrapping up, a dopey-looking guy wearing sturdy clothes typical for plumbers and machinists walked up to him.

"Hey, detective!" he said. "I... think I've got something for you!"

"Good." Sverrir said. "Your name for the record, please?"

"Matt. Matt Frohman." the guy responded.

"What do you know?" Sverrir asked.

"Um, I don't actually, but I know someone else - she works a night shift in a diner downstream!" Frohman replied. "She's actually really cute, but the thing is, she may have seen or heard your guys making off from the crime scene!"

"Alright, that's encouraging... what's her name, and where can I find her?" Sverrir asked.

"Oh - Diner Olimpique, a couple of blocks away!" Frohman said. "Her name is Amanda De Vries."

"Thank you, citizen!" Sverrir said. "Who knows, maybe your friend really did see something..."

***

As he stepped off the bus near Diner Olimpique, Sverrir adjusted his coat and looked around. The diner was placed at the base of an old high-rise building, refurbished for supporting garden walls and extra balconies, with one side turned towards the nearby canal. Nearby, people were playing in a community garden, and a flock of city birds passed overhead to nest on the wall of another building further away. With graceful step, the snow leopard walked forwards and into the diner. The interior made good use of green walls, and wooden chairs and tables throughout the hall looked quite stylish, as well.

The old concrete walls were decked with wood plating, or covered in growing lichen, as well, to create a more cozy look to the place. He looked around, seeing a few people who were eating lunch, and then turned to the waiter.

"Excuse me, but where can I find Amanda De Vries?" he asked them.

"Well, she's sleeping after the night shift right now... what exactly do you need from her?" they responded.

Sverrir reached into his pocket and flashed his badge in an inconspicuous manner. "Sverrir Haraldsen, Earth Global Detectives. Amanda may be a witness on an important case." he said quietly.

"Oh..." the waiter said. "She's... not in danger, is she?"

"No, not at all." Sverrir reassured them. "I just need to talk to her."

"I guess you're in luck." the waiter replied. "She lives a couple of buildings away, on the other side of the canal." They pointed to a low-rise apartment block and a bridge leading to it. "Sansevieira Drive 26/3, right over there. Just talk to the concierge."

"Thank you." Sverrir nodded, turning around and walking out of the diner.

***

Walking on over the bridge, Sverrir shook his head fur and straightened the collar of his jacket. Walking into the building 26/3, he looked over the decorations and smiled. The plants were growing all along the walls, reaching towards the upper floors, while the lobby itself had a floor of irregular stones matched close together. He approached the concierge - an older woman wearing a dress gorgeously complex even by latest standards - with a businesslike smile, and said, showing his badge: "Hello. I'm Sverrir Haraldsen, from Earth Global Detectives. I would like to talk with Amanda De Vries."

"Oh dear." the concierge said. "What could possibly be--"

"If I do my job right, you'll see really soon." Sverrir bragged. "Amanda could be a valuable witness, so can I come talk to her?"

"Oh, I suppose so." the concierge told him. "She's living in the left-half apartment on the fourth floor. Most her roommates are off in the city at this hour, too..."

"This is good." Sverrir frowned. "I'm not looking to attract too much attention. Good day to you." he said, leaving for the stairs.

As he made his way up the first two flights of stairs, Sverrir was pleasantly surprised: even in his eco-friendly city, a stairwell with so many plants was a rarity. The climbing vines were stretching up from the ground floor and across the panes of glass that let the light in for the entire stairwell. The walls were festooned with frames that held up a great variety of potted plants, from all around the world. There was even a fun-sized artificial waterfall cascade in one of the corners, much to Sverrir's delight. As he walked upwards, he looked out the stairwell windows as well; they opened to a magnificent garden, its orange trees overhanging a communal area with benches and a small, modest-looking fountain. By the time Sverrir was up to the fourth floor, the tree branches have completely eclipsed the view, and he could even see above them a little, with the city skyline poking out above the trees. Admiring the view for a few quick seconds, he turned to the short corridor that went inwards into the building, and went down it, pressing a doorbell button for the left-hand door. A friendly chime rang out, and after a brief wait, a middle-aged man with red hair, wearing practical but eye-catching kaleidoscopic pants and jacket, opened the door. After a few moments of measuring Sverrir with his eyes, he asked: "Hello... what can I do for you?"

"Hello, ah..." Sverrir started.

"Jan." the man told him in response.

"Jan. Good to meet you." Sverrir said. "Can I talk to Amanda De Vries?"

"Not really, no." Jan said. "She's sleeping after her night shift at the diner right now."

"I'm aware, actually." Sverrir told him. "But it's important. Sverrir Haraldsen, Earth Global Detectives." he said quietly, showing his badge with a gentle motion. "Could we wake her up gently to answer a few questions? I'm searching for dangerous criminals, and she may well be a witness."

"Oh..." Jan replied.

"Don't worry, the entire detective service in the region is on-point." Sverrir said. "We just need a little more information."

"Alright then, I suppose..." Jan said. "Please, come on in."

***

Sverrir walked through the front door, looking over the apartment. The center room was a really neat social pad, with beanbags, chairs, and a massive poofy sofa centered around a coffee table. The windows on one side opened towards the city, providing a great sightline over the treetops, and the partial walls separating the other rooms were all festooned with either bookcases or whole-wall planter arrangements. Sverrir looked over as Jan pulled away a sliding door and went into another room. A good few minutes later, he walked back out, followed by Amanda: she was wearing really impressive floral pattern pajamas with massive bell-shape sleeves.

"Hello there." Sverrir said, waving his hand to greet her.

"Hey." Amanda replied. "Whatever you woke me up for, pal, I hope it's important."

"Important enough, I'd hope." Sverrir said, showing his badge. "Sverrir Haraldsen. I'm from the Earth Global Detectives. I'd like to ask a few questions about the last night at Diner Olimpique. Or to be more precise, the canal outside."

"Funny you should say that..." Amanda told him.

"Why?" Sverrir asked as she took a seat on the sofa.

"There was at least one thing blatantly out of the ordinary tonight... I suspect it's what you are following." Amanda said.

"That's definitely my concern." Sverrir replied, walking over to a nearby bean bag. "May I...?" he asked, pointing at it.

"Sure, go ahead." Amanda responded.

"Alright." Sverrir said, before sitting down and placing his phone on the table, opening a connection to Amos. "Now, would you please state for the record what you have seen?" he asked.

"Okay, sure." Amanda told him. "I noticed one very unusual boat around the break of dawn, so a bit after 4 AM... speeding down the river in violation of all community water traffic rules I could think of. I was thinking it over untill I went to bed."

"How did that boat look like?" Sverrir inquired.

"Bright azure-blue, very narrow and long." Amanda said. "The nose cowling had two parallel humps running front to back, the front of the cabin had a tall wrap-around windshield from what I remember... the back had a very distinctive spoiler sticking up, and I didn't hear any engine noise, so it must've been electric... plus, the boat had a name printed on the side in big bold letters. Could be the builder name. It was... "Smithson", I'm pretty sure... is that a boat manufacturer?"

"It is." Sverrir said. "Thank you; all of this is extremely helpful."

"No problem." Amanda told him, giving him a weary thumbs-up. "I'm pretty sure the idiots breaking the water traffic laws with it were all wearing opti-camo cloaks. They couldn't be any more memorable if they tried."

"Okay, these are definitely the people we're looking for." Amos chimed in. "Thank you for your assistance!"

"Great. Now, I suppose I can go back to bed?" Amanda asked.

***

Sverrir nodded to Amanda with a quiet "uh-huh" and stood up from the couch, picking up his phone in the process. "Well, you heard that, Amos. Smithson Model W-51.6 electric speedboat, azure-blue. Find it!" he told his companion.

Turning to Amanda, he said: "Good day to you. I'm sorry I had to wake you up, but this is of utmost importance. You'll see the results in the news soon enough." He nodded, and walked out at a brisk pace. He made his way downstairs, nodding to the concierge, and walked out of the building. As he stopped and stood at a small plaza with people going to and fro, he heard Amos come back through via his earpiece - with new information.

"Okay, Sveri, listen up." Amos told him. "Have I got something for you..."

"I'm all ears." Sverrir replied.

"I did some looking through local information, especially libraries of things." Amos said. "It'd take too long to round up all the sousveillance, but I found something else. The speedboat matching the description was borrowed in the wharf district a couple of days ago. The person who got it used a stolen borrower's card, but guess what - the idiot used the exact same card to order a dry-erase marker board. And we have an address!"

"Guess we found the weakest link, ain't that right?" Sverrir replied with a smirk. He paused for a second, and asked: "Where to, Amos?"

"Green Lizard Craftshop Annex. That's a few districts over, I'll send you a route." Amos told him.

"Do you think you can convince the local community to give us a search warrant vis-a-vis the stolen identity?" Sverrir asked in a hushed tone.

"I'll give it a shot." Amos replied. "Otherwise you'll have to talk with the craftshop custodians."

"Okay." Sverrir said, pulling out his phone to look at the map and directions. The path that Amos laid out called for him to take a tram, then transfer to a bus route near one of the vertical farm clusters and proceed to the craftshop area where the Green Lizard annex was located. This was entirely fine by Sverrir; he could blend into the crowd and approach unnoticed by the criminals. He walked on by past a couple of local shops, going through an arch between buildings that was overgrown with plants and festooned with low-intensity sun spectrum lights, and emerging into a busy street. He quickly moved into the crowd, at one with his surroundings, and smiled confidently as he walked down the street to the tram stop. It only took two minutes for a tram to arrive; an impressive bubble canopy vehicle with fused quartz windows across all of it supported by brass metalwork. The doors of the tram opened, and Sverrir stepped on board, taking a seat. Now, he thought, he had some time to focus - and work out the plan in his mind for how to go on.

***

When the tram started moving again, Sverrir quietly nodded towards his phone, and texted Amos with a request for the schematics of the craftshop annex and a bulletproof vest delivery to the site. He looked over the plans, and figured out a quiet way inside through a side entrance. With the tram passing busy streets and river canals, the detective thought on the situation. Even one combat rifle in the wrong hands could be destructive; but now, he was chasing after dozens, if not hundreds, of such rifles. If those slipped away and were used to arm the criminal underworld, the public danger would be immeasurable. There was a damn good reason why military weaponry and equipment was banned from use decades ago. Nowadays, it was the provenance of very, very dangerous people - the few that managed to run their criminal dealings in spite of peace and prosperity surrounding them. Thinking on that, Sverrir looked out the tram windows, with the sunspots passing across the interior as the sun was obscured by trees, wall gardens, semi-transparent awnings, and more besides. And if there was one thing he was sure about, it's that he wasn't going to allow those dangerous people to have their victory.

Going over the plan in his head, Sverrir stepped off the tram near the vertical farms, looking upwards briefly to witness the buildings' green-and-glass surfaces and a large banner overhead advertising all the different types of produce it was possible to get in this place in particular. Soon, the bus that the detective needed arrived to the stop, and he stepped aboard, taking a relatively short trip down to the craftshop area he needed. It took him just six minutes to arrive there; as he got off the bus, Sverrir looked the place over. It was a busy market street, with all the people taking up workshop space in the nearby complexes hawking their wares to an interested crowd, all kinds of people mingling with eachother and picking up artisan crafts.  The snow leopard smiled and quietly walked down the street. He reached the green lizard street sign on a large, complex building partially refurbished from the prior eras, and sat down on a nearby bench. He texted Amos, asking "Did you get a warrant?"

"No, you'll have to work otherwise." Amos immediately responded.

"Noted." Sverrir replied. "I hope you did get the bulletproof vest, though."

"Positive." Amos replied. "I've asked the community watch to get you one from class A emergency storage."

Sverrir turned his head, and noticed a plainclothes community sentry with a large suitcase standing near the side entrance to the Craftshop Annex. He walked up to her, saying quietly: "Hey. Sverrir Haraldsen. I believe that this bulletproof vest is for me."

"That it is." the sentry responded. "Nehal Al-Farsi, pleased to meet you."

The two walked into the Craftshop Annex through a side entrance: above-board, but out of sight of the building's windows. Sverrir looked around the side atrium, quietly stepping forwards when he saw the plaque reading "Administration and Occupancy". He slinked over to the door, and gently knocked on it.

"Hello, who is this?" a voice asked from the other side. "Please come in!"

"Hello there." Sverrir said as he and the sentry walked in, closing the door behind them. The person in the administration office was an anthropomorph like him, a badger wearing an impressively-designed vest with a few big pockets and a pair of bright-orange pants. When Sverrir walked in, she was watering the plants near a small circular window. He nodded to her, and said quietly: "Excuse me, but I'm Sverrir Haraldsen, from the Earth Global Detectives." he said, walking up at a gentle pace and showing his badge. "Can you assist us?"

"What with?" the woman said, squinting at him and Nehal. "Global Detectives are a pretty important office, aren't they?"

"I'm following up on a stolen borrower's card." Sverrir told her. "Possibly tied to contraband, murder, and who knows what else; this is an outrageous situation. My partner in service couldn't get me a warrant from the word go, but I hope I can take a look at a suspected workshop with your help, miss..."

"Narangerel." the administrator replied, her expression becoming more troubled by the minute.

"Narangerel, alright." Sverrir said. He showed the administrator his phone, with the evidence about the stolen card - traced information about the borrowings, and a later official complaint to the community watch about the card being stolen. "Will you help me out with the investigation?" he asked.

"Yes... if someone's been stealing borrower's cards, I don't exactly want them to hide away in our building." Narangerel said. "And that's even if the rest won't turn out to be true." She frowned, then muttered: "...though it does all look awfully truthful..."

Nehal made a sarcastic expression, handing Sverrir the suitcase. "Trust me, any detective who lies about evidence doesn't keep their job for long." she smirked. "One time, someone got thrown out of an EGD branch because they accidentally misplaced a spathiphyllum plant that belonged to a witness."

"Huh." Narangerel told her. "Really?"

"Somehow... yes." Nehal shrugged.

Sverrir opened the suitcase, revealing two bulletproof vests. After a moment of silence that lasted while he and Nehal got these vests on, the detective asked: "So, could I take a look at the 25th workshop, with the permission of the building's staff?"

"Hold on a moment." Narangerel replied.

***

Sverrir looked around to find a chair and proceeded to sit down for a moment as Narangerel sent the few other people responsible for the building a message, requesting their presence. In short order, they all showed up: the guy from the reception desk, the janitors and custodians, the tech support chief. Sverrir explained the situation to them, and once he got the permission, he called them to come with him; extra witnesses would help him make his case if he was right. Once they approached the door, Sverrir whispered to them: "It's better for you to keep back for now. I don't know who or what might be on the other side of this door."

"I was doin' some cleanin' there, and I don't think there were booby traps or anythin'... just so you know." one of the janitors said.

"Nevertheless." Sverrir replied. "Narangerel, could I have the key?"

Narangerel nodded, and handed Sverrir the keys. The detective opened the door, him and the sentry quietly walking in. The lights were out, with sunlight from the street streaming in through the windows covered by Venetian blinds. Sverrir turned around, telling Narangerel and others: "You can walk in. I think you should look this over with us."

"Okay." Narangerel said, her and others from the building's staff carefully walking in. As he saw them approach, Sverrir looked around - the workshop didn't seem to be too suspicious from the get-go, with plenty of plants, some computer terminals, algae-sheet paper stacks... and the suspiciously empty whiteboard next to one of the walls.

Looking at the whiteboard, Nehal asked: "So... where is anything? It's just a normal workshop..."

"Hold on, I think I know what this is..." Sverrir said. He took out his UV bulb flashlight - standard equipment for detectives and forensic scientists - and pointed it at the board, lighting it up. Suddenly, an entire map and schedule appeared, written in invisible ink: the criminals made notes about the buyers for weaponry, technical specifications, and the time for when all the weapons would be shipped out from the Wharf Embankment docks... which was in exactly 36 minutes from now. "Gods dammit..." Sverrir muttered. "This is bad! Really bad!"

"You don't say..." Nehal told him in response.

"Quick, call the rest of the local watch!" Sverrir all but yelled, with fire in his eyes. "Lock this place down, get all the evidence you can, and ask the staff to be witnesses! And I'm going to try and stop these gunrunners before it's too late!"

"Okay, will do!" Nehal replied.

Sverrir nodded and pressed his earpiece button. "Amos! Code Wildfire!" he yelled. "Get the officers to Wharf Embankment, Dock 24! We have 36 minutes before the weapon shipment is gone!"

"Got it!" Amos replied.

"Okay, Sverrir, I'll handle things here!" Nehal said "You just--" She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, her and Sverrir turning immediately to look behind them and seeing one of the gunrunner conspirators looking at them from the workshop's other entrance, keys in hand. Sverrir and the gunrunner looked at eachother for a brief moment - and then he immediately tried to flee with a few loud curses. Sverrir followed, chasing after him with a yell of "Stop! You are under arrest!"

The conspirator just kept on running, reaching into his pocket for what looked like a flashbang grenade. Before he could throw it, Sverrir lunged at him, and the two crashed into another workshop through a garden wall in the corridor, getting slathered in leaves and ivy.

"You!" his opponent yelled at him, trying to grab Sverrir as the two leapt up from the floor.

"Surrender!" Sverrir demanded in reply, trying to get a few more hits in, his opponent dodging all but one. "You've got nowhere to escape!"

The gunrunner just grappled with Sverrir in response, throwing him towards a bookcase - the detective trying to make a roll to cushion the impact as he fell back. He quickly leapt back up and threw himself at the gunrunner again to delay him, yelling "Nehal! Help me out, please!"

"I'm going!" Nehal yelled from down the corridor, Sverrir throwing his opponent to the ground in the meantime. The gunrunner grabbed a bamboo ivy support frame from a nearby workshop table, swinging it aggressively towards Sverrir - but at that moment, Nehal caught up with the two, and now the detective and the sentry tried to flank their opponent to stop him.

"Two against one? How is that fair?" their opponent smirked.

"Fairer than smuggling combat rifles!" Sverrir retorted angrily. "Surrender now!"

"Oh, keep dreaming!" the gunrunner yelled at him, going after Sverrir. The detective dodged most of his swings, parrying the few that did connect, and then delivered a few strikes of his own, trying to get his opponent off-balance. The gunrunner just laughed, asking "So that's the best you can do? Ha!"

Sverrir just grinned in response. "It's not me you should worry about!" he replied - at the exact same moment as Nehal hit the gunrunner with a massive book she grabbed from the bookcase, getting him off-balance and making him drop the ivy frame, and then did a decisive judo throw to get them on the ground for good. The two looked at eachother as they realized their opponent was stunned for a brief moment, then Nehal handcuffed the gunrunner to a nearby wrought-iron table - a good idea to ensure he couldn't just run off. The two went through his pockets, fishing out several flash grenades, and put those way out of reach. Sverrir then breathed out - and quickly told Nehal: "Keep an eye on him, and call in more sentries! You know how to take it from here!"

"Damn right we do!" Nehal replied. "Now go! You've got to get those weapons before they disappear for good!"

"I'll do all I can!" Sverrir replied. "Hope we'll talk later at the debrief!" He nodded, and ran back out. As he passed Narangerel and others in the corridor, he told them without as much as slowing down: "Be careful, keep an eye on the exits! The watch will be here soon!" He didn't even look back to see their reaction; right now, all that was on his mind was the emergency objective.

***

Sverrir double-timed it down the stairs, rushing out onto the pedestrian walkway; the sudden onrush of wind whipped his fur about as he pressed the button on his earpiece, still running.

"Amos!" he yelled. "Borrow me a car! A fast one!"

"Understood - I'm on it." the machine intelligence on the other side replied.

Dashing past the onlookers, Sverrir kept on running. He had to make it to the nearest motorway if he wanted any serious chance to catch up, and they weren't plentiful these days. Highlighting his way on the map, he ran past green embankments, cafes, and crafts stores. In other days, he liked going through the market streets at a respectably slow pace, appreciating the foods and wares from around the world, but now he ignored everything as he made his way to the motorway sector. One moment, he glanced upwards to the vertical gardens and the blue sky, and thought of the stakes at play. The largest contraband weapon shipment in two decades was slipping out of his grasp, but if he ever learned anything from Earth history classes, it's that you never surrender when the stakes are high. Leaping over a high-up guardrail, landing with a roll to cushion the impact, he saw that fortune was on his side: there was the motorway he needed, a large stretch of its parking spaces perfectly clear. Good thing not that many people used motorcars anymore, Sverrir thought.

He raised the phone again, asking "I'm here! Do you have the car, Amos?"

"Affirmative, I have it!" Amos replied.

"So where is it?" he asked.

"Turn to your left, Sveri." the machine mind replied, with what Sverrir imagined would look like a massive self-satisfied grin. He turned as instructed, and saw the approaching car: a solar-powered performance sedan, with some aftermarket improvements that caught his eye and a custom paintjob to boot. The car skidded to a stop next to him, and he leapt over the hood, flinging open the door on the driver's side and quickly getting into the driver's seat. He turned to the person in a passenger seat - a middle-aged man wearing an engineer's apron who seemed slightly perplexed by the urgency.

"Hey, uh..."

"Esteban." the human said.

"Esteban. You currently in charge of this car?" Sverrir asked.

"No, I... erm, I borrowed it from a friend after he did a few new mods... what's, uh--" Esteban continued.

"Okay, where were you going?" Sverrir interrupted him.

"I was going to the Manufactory Glades, but--" Esteban started, only to be interrupted by Sverrir again.

"Good. I'll have to drop you off before everything lights on fire; it won't be too far." Sverrir continued. "Amos, specifications?"

"Full specificaitons will be available in a moment." Amos responded. "For now, you can just floor it."

"Excuse me, but what is happening?!" Esteban reached out to Sverrir. "Is this some kind of emergency?"

"Actually, it is." Sverrir said, flashing his badge. "Earth Global Detectives. I'll tell you everything, personally, as soon as there's time. Now just hang on, this is going to be a fast ride!" he said, flooring the accelerator.

As the car accelerated, Sverrir's phone lit up again, and the distant MI read the specifications of the car. "Kometa-Tri, modified and improved. 110 kilowatts power total, maximum speed 215 kilometres per hour. Drag coefficient 0,17. Maximum battery charge 300 kilowatt-hours, current battery charge 257 kilowatt-hours."

"Good!" Sverrir yelled. "Now give me the optimal path to the Wharf Embankment! Our time is running out!"

***

As Sverrir's car rocketed down the motorway, dodging and weaving to pass the few other cars on there and the occasional bus or truck, the detective tried to figure out a plan of action. He put his phone on the dashboard, and Amos connected to the car's systems, projecting a 3D volumetric map of Dock 24 for him to glance at and tactical information about the docks and the waterfront. Sverrir noticed that the place was fairly secluded, a small landing surrounded by warehouses with plenty of tree cover... and he saw an opening. "Amos, I've got a plan!" he said.

"What have you come up with, detective?" Amos asked.

"I'll explain the details later; now, we need stunner arc-pistols and thermal imagers for the watch, rapid-acting smoke canisters, three or four pollen dusters, and the mobile scrap metal crane from Dock 29 to scoop up the guns!" Sverrir said. "Can you get all of that?"

"I can." Amos replied. "I like your plan, detective."

While Amos was coordinating the preparations, Sverrir focused on the driving, trying to get to the docks as fast as he could. He still needed a couple of minutes to coordinate the plan with the community watch on the spot, but thankfully, the Kometa-Tri he was driving could manage immense speeds, and the motorway was not only grade-separated from the all-encompassing network of pedestrian streets and bike lanes, but also mostly devoid of vehicles. He sped through the Manufactory Glades, an industry and workshop district that was drowning in greenery of century-old trees, but near its edge, where the Wharf Embankment began, he turned to Esteban.

"Esteban, it's better that you get out here." Sverrir said as he slammed on the brakes, the car quickly halting to a complete stop.

"Alright, but I'm still not sure if..." Esteban started, but Sverrir cut him off with "Don't worry, I'll do my best to handle it. And I'm not going to wreck the car. Now go!"

Esteban got out, closing the passenger door, and Sverrir pushed on the accelerator again; in just a minute and a half, he was at the heart of Wharf Embankment. He skidded to a stop over the unoccupied parking spaces - with no time to park carefully, he just left the car as it was, slamming the door shut and running off. He quickly reached the docks, noticing a group of seven bulletproof-vest-wearing sentries with several compact equipment boxes near them, the boxes festooned with warning symbols and class-A weapon safety measures. He ran up to the sentries, who were camped off to the side from the main street, and said: "I'm Sverrir Haraldsen, the guy who called this in! Is the crane in position?"

"Yes, it is!" one of the officers said, pointing to the crane parked inconspicuously between Dock 24 and Dock 25: a clunky, utilitarian eight-wheeled vehicle with powerful fuel cells placed on the cargo bed next to/under the crane assembly. "I hope the arc pistols really are called for, Detective?..." another officer asked.

Sverrir nodded grimly. "Yes - these are the most dangerous criminals I've followed in several years. And they have firearms. I'm going to personally write a full report on the request for stun weapons, but first, we've got to halt the weapons shipment."

With that, Sverrir continued, explaining his plan to the watch officers. It was risky, but if it worked, they would instantly disarm the gunrunner conspirators and their buyers. He grabbed an arc pistol and its holster that were brought for him. With everything ready, the group readied themselves and their equipment: it was now or never.

***

When Sverrir and the community watch were ready to move, the snow leopard told one of the city's machine intelligences whom the group had on the line: "Alright, we spotted their lookouts; deploy the pollen dusters!"

"Done and done!" the machine steward responded.

Sverrir looked up into the sky - and among several unmanned drones hovering in the vicinity, a group of three dashed in with extreme speed, the machine mind in charge expertly piloting them at low altitude. In just a few seconds, they were over the goons guarding the front entrance, dropping their entire stock of pollen in a dense cloud, the lookouts immediately beginning to sneeze and rub their eyes. That's when the team moved in, approaching the front entrance, with two of the officers decking the lookouts to knock them out and quickly pulling the guns from their holsters, then handcuffing them and retreating a few metres back to stand watch, and the others moving into the warehouses. The group quietly fanned out, arc pistols at the ready, and took the high ground, Sverrir and others looking out into the inner yard. In the yard, Sverrir saw no less than nine people, some wielding the combat rifles he was looking to seize, and three in particular making a deal over the several boxes of rifles, three dozen at the very least. He was quietly horrified by how much weaponry was there, ready to slip into the hands of any among the most violent and unscrupulous people around the globe - but he didn't let himself lose composure. He pressed a button on his earpiece, and asked: "Okay, everyone in position?"

The group all replied in the affirmative, and Sverrir nodded quietly - but then, he noticed one of the gunmen run in and pull one of the two dealmakers aside to tell him something, gesticulating wildly. Carefully approaching a warehouse window, Sverrir overheard the conversation... which was about the front gate guards. Reacting quickly,  Sverrir said: "Okay, change of plans! Sentry group, smoke the yard immediately! Amos, get me the crane operator!"

"Got it, Sveri." Amos said. There was a short burst of static, and Sverrir heard the voice of the crane operator hidden behind one of the warehouses - that same moment, the sentries quickly rolled the smoke grenades into the yard, beginning to fill it with dense white smoke.

"Good day, officer, what can I do you for?" she asked.

"No time for details! Extend the crane to the Dock 24 as fast as you can, and slam the magnet to maximum power!" Sverrir told her. "That'll pull the guns right out of their hands!"

"Guns? Oh man oh man..." the operator said as the crane's beam extended over the yard - and at the same moment, much to Sverrir's fear and discontentment, the shooting started. The gunrunners started shooting blindly to try and get back at the sentries who surrounded them, yelling things like "It's an ambush!" and "Everyone retreat!" - but thankfully, the walls were made of old-school clay bricks, more than enough to deflect the bullets even as other shots broke windows and pierced through sheet metal. With his fight-or-flight response kicking in right away as the shooting started, Sverrir yelled into his earpiece: "Everyone, take cover! Amos, give us overhead recon!"

"Affirmative!" Amos told him.

At that same moment, hiding from enemy fire at some distance from the windows, Sverrir looked a bit up - and saw how the crane magnet has lifted and attracted all of the boxes with combat rifles, stuck to it like so much iron scrap. The gunrunners yelled in panic and confusion, noticing the magnet overhead, and ran in different directions to escape before their own weapons were snatched away. But suddenly, the crane operator came back on the radio, asking: "Hey, what's going on?! Is that gunfire?!"

"Yes!" Sverrir replied. "Take cover! Your crane just pulled away most of their firepower!"

"Okay, okay!" the crane operator responded, Sverrir hearing her leap off the crane and run for cover. Changing the radio frequency, he got back to Amos, just in time to hear her make an announcement.

"Attention all sentries!" Amos told the group via radio. "We have three gunrunners in a boat speeding off, four hiding out in the container yard, and three others trying to flee along the dockside embankment!"

"Got it!" Sverrir said back. He looked at the other sentries with him, and tried to come up with a plan. "Okay, we are almost even with them!" he said. "Four people should go after the criminals in the container yard; climb up, smoke the place, and use the height advantage to corner them! Front gate detail, catch up with me and one other sentry! We'll go after the three who are running via embankment!"

"And what about the ones in the speedboat?" one of the sentries asked.

"That won't be a problem!" Sverrir said "Just mobilize the vehicle-pursuit drones, now that they're fleeing from us in broad daylight!"

"I'll get right on that." Amos said via the communications as they got in touch with the drone operators.

***

With four of the sentries splitting off to the container yard, Sverrir and the other sentry ran out of the building, rallying with the other two who were guarding the front gate. They risked by leaving the front gate guards unattended, yes - but it was a necessary risk. More of the community watch were already on the way; this was big, bigger than anything that the city has seen in years. The other watch group came in over Sverrir's radio channel as stray shots rang out among the containers, yelling: "We're in the container yard! Edwards, throw smoke! Fujishima, flank right!" "Got it! Zelenko, I'll cover you!"

Sverrir changed the frequency, contacting Amos again to get fresh recon.

"Amos, where are they on the embankment?" he asked.

"They're approaching a canal drawbridge behind the bend on your right." Amos responded.

"Good! Get the port authority on the horn and raise the bridge! We'll corner them there!"

"Affirmative, on it!" Amos replied.

"Follow me!" Sverrir called to other sentries. "Take cover with every move, these guys will do anything to save themselves!" The snow leopard's eyes narrowed, and he ran off, the sentries barely able to follow him without falling behind. He ran from cover to cover, hearing the drawbridge up ahead creak as he approached the sightline open to the criminals. He finally ran up to a big tree that was growing near the bend - and as soon as he peeked out, he was met with a hail of gunfire directed his way. Sverrir immediately hid back behind the tree, the other sentries forming up with him. "Okay, we need a plan! We've got them cornered now, we just have to take them down without undue harm!" he said.

At that moment, the other group came in via the radio channel again. "We got 'em! I repeat, we got 'em!" one of the sentries reported. "Our group of hostiles is under arrest! Fujishima got injured, but it's nothing serious, the bullet just grazed them!"

"Good! Get them medical attention, stat!" Sverrir said in response, before turning to other sentries. "I'm actually a bit stumped right now - there's no way we can safely fire back..." he admitted.

"I have an idea!" one of the sentries raised her hand. "Why won't we ask for another pollen duster run?" she asked with a smirk.

"That's pretty good! Everyone, arc pistols at the ready!" Sverrir said. "We've got them pretty close, but we need that opening! Amos, get us on the line with our friend, if you will?"

"Right away." Amos responded, patching in the city steward machine mind who helped them earlier.

"Hello again!" Sverrir said. "My friend Amos just gave you the coordinates; can you do another pollen drop for us?"

"Of course! Drop in 45 seconds." the steward replied. Their pollen-duster drones were normally intended for rapid ecological bootstraps - a wildgrass meadow around a finished-up construction site here, a flowerbed of epic proportions there - but now, they flew in like a strike group, dodging all gunfire that was directed at them and dumping a second batch of pollen over the gunrunners. In a few seconds, the sneezing started - and that's when Sverrir and sentries with him popped out from behind the tree, landing several precise arc pistol shots on them. The electric stun made the gunrunners drop their weapons, with Sverrir and the watch closing in... and in a minute, everything was over. The two groups on land have been safely apprehended, and soon afterwards, more of the community watch were there to take them away. Sverrir raised his finger to the earpiece, and asked: "Amos?"

"What is it?" Amos responded.

"Did we get the ones who fled by boat?" Sverrir asked.

"Yes, we have." Amos told him. "They are currently floating on the open water one kilometre away from shore, and the coast guard is coming in to apprehend them."

"Whew. Thank gods." Sverrir said. When one of the criminals walked past Sverrir as the community watch led him away, the snow leopard smirked and winked, with the gunrunner making a grimace of anger and annoyance in response. Sverrir knew one thing for sure; with all criminals apprehended, and all contraband combat rifles accounted for, his mission for the day was accomplished, and he prevented who knows how many calamities from ever taking place. In his line of work, he really couldn't ask for more.

***

For the rest of the workday, Sverrir went down to the local community watch office and did all the busywork that was called for after any case of such magnitude. He compiled evidence, filed reports about his actions, talked with witnesses and local watch officers, and tried to figure where else the Earth Global Detectives may be led by the connections from people they apprehended. But, eventually the workday was over with - and in late afternoon, he took his recess to what constituted his favourite hangout no matter where in the world he was: the Arbor Diner, a chain of restaurant co-ops serving his most preferred selection of food combos from across the world. After locating the nearest one and making his way there, he walked in, finding a nice table near the panoramic windows and looking over the place, with its prolific abundance of plants and wooden drink casks in the back, he figured he could simply let himself relax for a while.

"Hi there, and welcome!" the waiter said. "What will you have today, Detective?"

Sverrir - a person of note among the employees of that particular restaurant chain - gave it a thought, and figured he owed himself a really good snack after all that has transpired today. He turned around to the waiter, nodding to him politely.

"I'll have a double solarized Cheesemonger's Special, extra garden space on top, a dash of Appenines, overdo the mustard, and no rowing boats." Sverrir said.

The waiter just nodded and yelled to the kitchen: "You got that?"

"Yeah!" the fry cook replied, with Sverrir just smiling to the waiter and kicking back in his chair to wait for his order.

[lousimusician]

Sex Pollen Part 4 (Finale)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: The aftermath of your night with Peter

Warning: Talks about smut, language

A/N: I wanted to post this part sooner but y’know life happened. I also ended up rewriting this like three times and I’m still not that happy with it but hey it wraps up the series. Thank you so much for all the comments and messages I’ve been getting. The support has been insane, I got almost 1,000 new followers this past week. THANK YOU!!! (Again I will be working on requests now, and I will be still taking them)

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Tony Stark woke up with a groan, finding himself hunched over the lab table he had been working on all night.

He leaned back in his seat to stretch out his limbs. "F.R.I.D.A.Y what time is it." He muttered rubbing a hand down his face.

"7:46, sir." 

"And how's Peter doing?"

"He's perfectly fine Mr. Stark."

Tony sat up straight, now wide awake. "What do you mean by fine?"

"He seems to be better sir." F.R.I.D.A.Y responded.

"How?"

"...I don't know."

Tony looked over and spotted Bruce fast asleep. He jumped out of his seat and shook the man awake. "Banner." Bruce groaned. "Stop drooling on the equipment and get up, we have a situation."

Bruce jumped up, suddenly remembering what he had been doing before he fell asleep. "Oh god- We fell asleep, we need to check on-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm way ahead of you, now get up."

Bruce nodded, scrambling to follow after Tony.

~~~~~~

Peter's eyes fluttered open, meeting the ceiling, an achiness washing over his body.

He was exhausted, more tired than he's ever been before.... but he was back to normal.

And at that thought, the events that had happened just last night hit him like a truck.

His hand shot out to his side, feeling if you were still there, but when he was met with the empty spot, he quickly sat up, looking around the room for any sign of you.

But you were gone. "Oh my God." Peter hissed. Not knowing what this meant between the two of you now. 

You had disappeared making it seem like everything that had happened was just a dream Peter conjured up in his lust filled mind. The only sign that you weren't just an imagination were the stinging scratches he could feel lining his back and shoulders. 

He stumbled out of the bed, almost falling down because of the bedsheets that were tangled in between his legs. He quickly walked towards the mirror, spotting his sweatpants on the way and pulling them on before he came face to face with his reflection.

He was a wreck. Hair sticking up in more than one direction, too many for it to just be considered bed head. His eyes were bloodshot since he only got a few hours of sleep, and his neck was covered in a few hickies. He turned to look at the damage on his back, seeing the bright red scratches that stretched from his shoulder blades to his lower back.

And they made him quite proud, for some reason.

"Damn (Y/N)," Peter breathed out, biting his lip, attempting to fight off the grin that was playing on them.

Peter was pulled from his thoughts when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. Spinning around on his heels he spotted you leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, wearing your tank top and shorts you came in with last night, hair dripping.

You smirked at him. "Someone's proud." You said after watching him check himself out in the mirror.

"I-I thought you left." He stuttered.

"I just finished taking a shower."

"Oh." He said awkwardly, not really knowing how to talk to you after everything. His eyes dragged down to your neck and chest, where he spotted hickies and bite marks that ranged from just under your jawline to the tops of your breasts. Peter swallowed nervously. "A-are you o-okay?"

You shrugged. "I guess. I'm kinda having trouble walking."

Peter's face turned red. "I-I'm sorry-"

"Peter I said to stop apologizing." You said as you started to walk towards the bed to sit down, a limp in your step that made Peter feel bad but also oddly proud again. "But what about you?" You asked. "How do you feel?"

"Oh y-yeah." He cleared his throat. "I'm all better... so uh- thanks for that." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

You grinned. "No problem." 

An awkward silence filled the air between you two, and Peter not having a filter filled it with, "So last night was pretty wild."

You snorted, "Smooth."

He smiled, shaking his head. "Sorry, you know I'm not good at this stuff."

"You could've fooled me, some of the stuff you said and did last night- I mean, you even choked me-"

"Okay!" He yelped, cutting you off. "I-I remember."

You giggled and layed down, stretching out your achy legs, unintentionally showing off the hickies that were littering your inner thighs, making him blush more. 

Peter wanted to ask what this meant, if this was more than you just trying to help. Because after everything you two did, he wasn't sure if he could handle just being your friend. 

"S-so." Peter started. "Ms. Romanoff said l-last night that you.. that you have a cru-"

Peter was suddenly cut off by three knocks coming from his bedroom door. "Peter it's me and Banner." You heard your dad say from the other side. You sat up, both you and Peter immediately tensing up, heads snapping to the door. "I'm coming in." 

You and Peter looked at each other in shock as your dad just barged into the room.

Tony stopped, hand still on the door knob, as he saw his daughter and Peter, the marks on each of your bodies letting him know what happened. Banner stood awkwardly behind Tony, not wanting to get in the middle of what was about to happen.

Your dad stood frozen in shock. He was speechless.

And Tony Stark was never left speechless.

You glanced at Peter, knowing he wasn't going to say anything, which left you.

"Okay." You said calmly. "Dad I know what your thinking-"

Tony's eyebrows shot up as he cut you off. "Do you now!?" He snapped, anger flaring. "Because right now I'm thinking about how my daughter blatantly disobeyed me and clearly has no faith in me-"

"Hey!" You yelled cutting him off now, "This has nothing to do with me having no faith in you-"

"No (Y/N), I'm speaking now." He said angrily. "We would've figured it out, this wasn't going to kill Peter. And now what if you get pregnant-"

"I'm not going to get pregnant-"

"Oh really? Condoms don't always work-"

"I'm on the pill!" You shouted in annoyance.

Tony's eyes widened. "You've been having sex?"

You sighed. "Oh please, like you hadn't been having sex at my age. But that is beside the point. The pollen may not have killed him but we don't know what it could've done. So I'm sorry for not listening to you, but I'm not sorry for helping Peter."

Tony shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine." He said reluctantly. "Fine... You have a point. But this is a lot for me to handle right now so... I'm gonna go..and clean up the lab." He said with a shake of his head, the situation clearly starting to give him a headache at the fact he wanted to be angry but deep down knew that you were probably the only person that could help Peter.

Tony turned around and headed out of the room, head swimming. Banner still stood there awkwardly.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I'm really sorry for bringing that plant here. You have no idea how guilty I feel about that."

You smiled softly at Bruce and waved your hand. "Don't worry about it. Everything's back to normal now. Just don't bring anymore alien stuff back here." 

Bruce laughed gently, "I guess I'll go help your dad. I'll see you two later."

Both you and Peter said your goodbyes as Bruce shut the door behind him, before it was just the two of you again.

"That." Peter started. "Actually went a lot better than I thought it would."

"Yeah.. I'm a little shocked."

"I thought he would've killed me."

You shook your head, "Seriously Peter, no one blames you for anything that happened....Now what were you saying before?"

"Oh right." Peter blushed, taking a seat at the foot of the bed now. "Ms.Romanoff kinda said you had...a crush on me?" He phrased it as a question, not knowing if Nat had been telling the truth.

You bit your lip. "Did she now?" Peter nodded. You sighed. "I guess now's a better time than any to tell you..so yes. I do like you Peter Parker... a lot actually."

The joy that Peter felt after hearing you say that was indescribable, and it showed by the large smile that lit up his features.

"I like you a lot too." You smiled, moving to sit next to him at the end of the bed. "M-maybe we could go out s-sometime?" He asked awkwardly.

You laughed. "I let you fuck me in positions I didn't even know existed." You said, making him blush. "So yes, we can go out sometime." You finished, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"We should probably wait for the hickies to fade first though."

"Yeah, probably." You giggled. "You know the others are never gonna let us live this down."

"Oh god, do you think they heard us?"

You raised a brow. "Peter we were screaming, sI think they heard us."

Peter laughed, "Well...you wanna hang out until the others figure out everything's fixed and start making fun of us.''

"Too late." You heard Sam's voice from the other side who, who had just been passing through with Bucky by his side. "Tell your dad to soundproof this goddamn room."

"Yeah," Bucky said. "And Thor says good job, by the way."

"Oh my god." You hissed in embarrassment. "Go away!" You yelled at them, hearing the two of them laugh while they walked away. 

"I think you were right when you said that we're never gonna live this down." Peter muttered.

"Stupid fucking plant."

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@itsbqueenthings

[ianite-simp]

dark!karl pt.4

getting wild up in here, angst is slowly ramping up :)

“I’ll try the armour on!” Mianite chirped, eagerly taking the enchanted armour from Karl.

“My lord, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s probably cursed or somethin’,” Karl earnestly tried to dissuade the young god from the risky plan. After recovering the armour the Darkness had worn in their grueling fight, they spent almost an entire day arguing about what to do with it. Personally, Karl thought it would be for the best if they just destroyed the lot. It had a strange, ethereal glow to it unlike regular enchanted armour. It could only lead to trouble. Mianite grinned cheekily, tapping the brim of Karl’s cap, pulled low over his eyes - it was the only thing that could hide the now almost entirely glinting, pitch black depths of his eyes, along with the scarf wrapped tightly across his face to disguise the other side effects of the Darkness’ momentary connection to him. No one questioned them after he claimed he just wanted to upgrade his look - why would they? They just thought he was trying to look like a strange cowboy.

“Don’t worry about it, my champion. I am a god, after all.” Without a moment's hesitation, Mianite pulled the full set of armour on taking a moment to adjust it to fit properly. He spun around with a wide grin, his arms spread out wide. “Well, what do you-” Mid-sentence, his face contorted painfully, and he doubled over, as though struck from behind.

“My lord?” Karl stepped forward hesitantly, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. Mianite’s hand shot up, grabbing Karl’s wrist in a vice-like grip. He straightened abruptly, the once sunny face of the god Karl knew and respected twisted into a strange, cruel visage. 

“I’d take better care of your god, if I were you Karl.” The Darknesses’ harsh, rasping voice emitted from Mianite’s mouth like some sort of trick a ventriloquist would play. But this was no magic trick. Wrenching his hand away, Karl sprinted towards the beach - a point where he could take off easily enough with his elytras.

“Jordan, Tom, get out of here!” He yelled panickedly over his shoulder, as he shot into the air, the familiar feeling of the wind rushing against him acting as a small spot of comfort. How could that happen? Why didn’t I stop him? This is all my bloody fault. He reached a high point above the islands, and attempted to pull himself into a controlled circle. The weather wasn’t on his side, unfortunately, and gusts seemed determined to send him plummeting to the ground. It only took a moment for him to spot Jordan and Tom, with the Darkness somehow easily pursuing them. There was no way they’d be able to handle him in another fight, especially in the air, and Karl didn’t want to do anything that would harm Mianite. As Jordan shot by him, struggling to bombard the Darkness with arrows, Karl called loudly out to him, “Jordan, get Ianite’s help! She was down there with us, she has to do something!” Jordan, though struggling to maintain his complex flight pattern, did as asked, diving towards the islands. Helplessly gliding far above, Karl watched the Darkness launching volleys of attacks on Tom, as he tried to distract him from Jordan’s efforts.

Within a minute, the Darkness suddenly froze in place, tendrils of black and purple light winding around his torso like a straightjacket. Ianite’s usually bubbly expression was frozen in a small scowl, as she drew the temporarily trapped being towards her, evidently putting all her strength into it. Dropping into a steep dive, Karl stumbled to a stop alongside her, his eyes fixated on the hate-filled expression contorting Mianite’s face. “It’s pointless trying to capture me sister. I have become more powerful than anything you could conjure up in your visions.” The voice was a combination of Mianite’s confident tones and the grating sounds of the Darkness’. It repulsed Karl, yet he stood still where he was. Ianite rolled her eyes at the declaration, turning to the three champions instead.

“I’ll be bringing him back to Asgard to try and purge this thing from him.” Her eyes flitted to Karl, and he heard a soft voice in his head, much more soothing than what he had ever heard from the Darkness.

He’ll be fine. My brother is rash, it was not your fault.

Karl couldn’t bring himself to give any other response than a small nod. But the instant before they vanished, the all-too familiar tones of the Darkness echoed in his mind.

Imagine following a god as weak as the form I am in...

Then with a small pop, the two gods vanished into thin air. “That was insane,” Tom broke the silence, running a hand through his hair. Jordan nodded mutely in agreement, clearly still mulling over what had happened. “Listen, Karl, why don’t you join Cap, Hermod, and I for a round of mead. It’s on me.” Karl shook his head at Tom’s suggestion. He needed to get away, if anything. He needed space to think, to be alone.

“I’m good right now, catch up with you later mates.” Raising a hand in farewell, he turned to trod slowly back towards his house.

Hours later, he found himself in Mianite’s new temple, the temple his god had created after the first one became demolished. Normally he found it a bright, comforting place to sit and think in. But with Mianite gone, it seemed cold and austere, almost like a crypt. A chill stole over him, a chill that sunk into his bones, a chill that reminded him of the sensation that always crept over him when he looked into the neverending depths of the void in the End. His bare feet softly padding across the smooth floor, he made his way to the front of the temple where he kneeled in front of the glistening throne. It was polished to the point where he could see his own reflection staring back morosely. 

Dreading to see the extent of the damage to his face, he first removed the wide brimmed hat from his now ruffled hair, then carefully unwound the dark blue scarf from his face. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the brightness of the room. The amount of light seemed to only agitate the burning sensation in them, a pain that just intensified as the days passed. He had learned not to rub at them, because that only caused thin rivulets of a thick black substance to trail slowly down his cheeks. The stuff stained like nothing else, and he spent hours trying to scrub it from his pillow when he mistakenly swiped a hand across it.. But he was used to the sight of the lifeless, deep black eyes. It was his skin that had started to worry him. At first, the grey skin had only appeared under his eyes, like shadows from not getting enough sleep. But it soon grew darker, spreading further around his eyes and slowly down his cheeks - giving him the look of someone not quite alive. Thin cracks formed, fracturing the skin like a statue about to crumble. 

He reached a hand up to lightly touch the infected skin, wincing as a few flakes fluttered down. When the skin crumbled away it felt like hundreds of tiny needles had been stabbed into the site. A deep sigh escaped him, as his shoulders slumped, and his eyes fell to the base of the throne. “What did I do wrong? Why did it have to be me, and my god? I don’t… I’ve been tryin’ and tryin’ to figure it out but I dunno why. Am I not good enough? Not strong enough?” His voice cracked slightly, as he croaked out the words in a hushed voice. 

He didn’t expect a reply. He knew he wouldn’t be getting one, what with the state Mianite was in. I failed him. I failed my god. I could’ve protected him, but instead I let the Darkness take him. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that he could just cry, just let his emotions escape him. Things would be so much easier if he only didn’t have to feel. A sticky, thin trickle of the black substance inched its way down the brittle skin of his cheek, falling onto his loosely folded hands.

It’s not too late to accept my offer, Karl.

A scoff escaped Karl as he heard the voice of the Darkness rumble in his head. “As if. You screwed with my god, man. That was taking it too far. And have you seen me? I’m a walking disaster after that shitty stunt you pulled.”

If you join me, you will be healed. You’ll be restored to your proper self, Karl. But it will be better, because you’ll have access to powers you could never get with one of those little godlings. 

“I’m not looking for power, mate, I just want to be normal. That’s what you don’t understand.”

I know more of you than you would think. You don’t truly want to just be “normal”. You crave respect, to be recognized as someone worthy of it. You fear the memory of old friends will be stronger than any connection you can ever make. If you simply accept my offer-

Karl pushed himself to his feet, snatching up the scarf and hat from the floor. “You,” his voice trembled, but he steeled himself quickly, “have no idea who I am. I don’t want anything you have to offer.” In all honesty, the offers were growing more and more tempting. To be healed, to be accepted, and to simply be happy? The others will never accept you if you make a deal with the Darkness. Don’t you get that? He hesitated though, still struggling to fight the temptation. With that much power, they’d have to accept me. They’d have no other option.

No, no. What was he even thinking? Force his friends to accept him? What kind of lunatic would actually do that? His resolve strengthened, he reassembled his hat and scarf disguise, and turned to stride towards the large doorway. 

One last thought for you, Karl. Do you really want to side with a god that would willingly risk himself and his people to satisfy an idle whim? Do you truly support a god so selfish?

Of everything the Darkness had thrown at him, it was the only thing that truly planted a tiny seed of doubt. Out of everything that had happened to him, it seemed like his loyalty and trust in Mianite would always be a constant source of comfort. He’d always be able to turn to him when he was in need - or so he had thought.

The Darkness’ words kept repeating in Karl’s ears, the doubt he felt towards his god growing stronger and stronger. Still, he refrained from doing anything until he could see Mianite face-to-face again. Maybe it was just somehow a misunderstanding. Maybe the Darkness was only saying it to pin him against his own god. He couldn’t just renounce his god as casually as Tom had done. Mianite was still his anchor, and he couldn’t let go of that.

But it all changed the day of the judgments. When he had to capture his own god at sword point, force him into a cell to guard. Staring through the small openings in the door, the god Karl had once been proud to be announced champion of was nothing more than a sneaking, suspicious shell of his former self. Or had he really been like that all along, and Karl just never noticed? 

His turn in the tank came too soon, he was too lost in his thoughts to properly process what was happening to him, until he was sealed into the tank. The water surrounded him, pushing down from all sides. He felt like he was slowly being dissolved into nothingness. The rather warm water felt scalding through the scarf he clung to, keeping his face as concealed as possible. The short duration he spent submerged felt like an eternity, and when his lungs began to burn with the need for air, the water was suddenly gone, and he heard the whispering voice of the judgment tank in his ear.

Darkness

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 55

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

Things have been out of whack in the real world for a bit, so I know I’ve gotten behind on things like updating the Master List for this story, and especially behind on posting it to Wattpad.  My goal for this week is to have all that sorted out by Friday, so keep your eyes open.

Parts of this chapter were inspired by a conversation I had with @baelpenrose. It’s always surprising what things in my life inspire parts of this story, especially the people.

Content warning: Someone yelling and throwing things. It’s a temper tantrum, and no one gets hurt, but just in case, I wanted to give a head’s up.

”Damn it all to HELL!”

I stopped in the middle of what I was telling my sister as we both whipped our heads toward the shout, which was quickly followed by a crash. We glanced back at each other, her wide-eyed expression a mirror of what I imagined my own face looked like.

That shout came from my quarters, with a suspiciously heavy Irish accent.

We dashed to my door, stopping to peer around the corner as slowly as possible. I wasn’t sure about Tyche, but I had seen Conor angry before.  It was rare, and it took a lot, but when it happened, it happened in a big way.   This time, even I was surprised by the sheer magnitude; as we watched, he shouted and threw things, subconsciously careful to avoid hitting any terrariums or people.  Even so, Zach Khan was dodging to hide behind whatever piece of furniture he could impose between himself and my enraged partner.

Taking a deep breath, I stood tall and squared my shoulders, gently pushing down my sister’s arm when she tried to stop me from confronting Conor.  Firmly, I knocked on the threshold of the wide-open entrance before striding in with more confidence than I currently felt.  “You could at least close the door,” I suggested airily, trying to get his attention.

As I hoped, he whirled around to face me, disheveled hair falling in his face. “Sophie,” he started trying to explain. “You could have gotten hurt.”

“Hello to you, too, sweetie,” I smiled before stretching on my tiptoes as he automatically leaned down to let me kiss his cheek.  “I waited until you were on the other side of the room, facing away.  But that doesn’t explain why you’re currently scaring Zach and Tyche.”

All anger gone at this point, he stepped around me and toward my sister.  He crouched and softened his voice like he was coaxing a scared kitten, which I reminded myself firmly not to laugh at. “Oh gods, Tych, love, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t hit you with anything, did I?” He whirled to face me, all color drained from his face. “Please tell me I didn’t hit you with anything?” he begged, hitting his knees.

“Zach, you can come out now. It’s over,” I called softly to the sofa, before walking over, wrapping my arms around Conor, and assure him I was fine. Really, all he had done was make a mess. “Maybe take up boxing,” I suggested softly, brushing his hair back out of his face. “It’s a much healthier outlet for your frustration.”

Tyche came in the room, tentatively at first, then more confident when she saw Conor’s face buried in my stomach.  She started to pick up debris from the floor, but was interrupted. “Put it down, woman,” the muffled admonishment came from my abdomen. “I made the mess, my job to clean it up.  That’s the rule.”

She sputtered in exasperation. “Then what can I do!?  This place is a mess, and my anxiety says to clean or do something to fix it,” she scolded at my back.

“How about some coffee,” I suggested with a chuckle, patting Conor on the shoulder in indication that he should get started with cleanup.

Once everyone got settled – including Zach with a cocoa, seeing as he was practically vibrating with anxiety – and Conor went about restoring order to our living space and apologizing to the plants, I asked, “Are you going to blow up again if I ask what you were so angry about?”

Conor dropped his hands to his side and tilted his head back to face the ceiling. “No, I won’t. And it was Huynh.”

Tyche growled ferociously before elbowing me. Oh.

That was me growling, not her.

He continued blithely. “The diving platforms are showing signs of rust damage.” Frustration was showing in his tone, but not anger. So far, so good. “Since I was head of the project, he is coming down on me hard. Trying to say I cut corners, didn’t coat everything properly, used the wrong materials, basically just bollocked the whole thing.”

“But you were the one who ordered one of the platforms taken out entirely because it was too close to the line for spec…”

“Hey,” he pointed at me firmly. “That thing would have been clearly out of spec if the temperature varied more than about twenty degrees.”

“It’s climate controlled, and that’s my point. You literally went with ‘better safe than sorry’ the entire time, and he got mad at you for wasting materials to meet the guidelines.”

“That’s my point!” he cried in frustration, flinging his arms wide and falling to his back with a thud that made me wince. “And now, he’s reversed course and accusing me of shoddy workmanship. I can’t win!  Even though Mav signed off that everything was dead level, on the nose within tolerance.”

“Wait,” Zach interjected, wrinkling his nose. “Why would Maverick sign off on that? He’s a pilot. That doesn’t make sense.”

Tyche snickered. “He’s a pilot when we need a pilot. Which is nearly never, so he’s more like an insurance policy there – better to have and not need than need and not have.  No, he’s quality control for any equipment in the research labs.”

“That’s just… what? Not tracking.”  Poor Zach looked like he was getting a headache.  I dropped another marshmallow in his cocoa, and he looked like I had answered his prayers. Ah, yes. Marshmallow makes sense in this crazy world.

“He has an insane eye for detail and is a completely arse about precision,” Conor’s tone was so fond it barely escaped being considered cooing.  He shook his head and glowered at the boot wedged under a piece of furniture. “Huynh is calling that nepotism, by the way.”

“But he’s even worse here!” I cried.  Tyche nodded vigorously, having been subjected to a two-hour rant when she put away a fork the wrong way.  Not in the wrong drawer, the wrong direction.

Maverick was permanently in charge of setting the table for every meal.  It was the only way to avoid killing him outright.

“Okay…” Zach trailed off, pinching his nose and vigorously wiggling his mug to beg for more chocolate salvation. “But the platforms are still rusting?”

“All three,” Conor confirmed.  “They’ve warped badly enough that we had to declare them unsafe until we can figure out the issue.”

“Wait. They rusted that badly in four months?” Tyche looked so confused it made my face hurt in sympathy.  “How is that even possible? Even if you didn’t take any measures to prevent rust, it shouldn’t be that advanced.”

“Grey is trying to figure that out. It’s also why Mav is stuck at work and not here for dinner.”

As much as I wanted to laugh at the – very manly – pout I was witnessing, I was also frustrated by the interruption in our routine.  Shaking my head, I tried to steer the conversation away from our errant pilot. “Is there a possibility that one of the lab’s experiments could have caused the issues?”

Conor shook his head before surveying the area for any more storm damage. “If that was the case, it would be so corrosive everything in the habitat would have died, and all the swimmers would be burned.  We would have known almost instantly.” He raked a hand through his hair, turning to face us. “But if anyone can figure it out, it’s Grey.”

“What I don’t understand,” Tyche ventured, “is that the materials were fabricated here on the Ark, right?  The facilities are obviously more advanced than anything we could have managed before.” She waved her hand at the ceiling for emphasis. “So, how could there be any flaws in the materials themselves?”

“The program still has to be written,” Zach groaned as he leaned forward. “You’re right about the system being more advanced, but that also means it’s incredibly finicky and precise. One character out of place, and everything used could be worthless. And before you ask,” he held up both hands defensively, “I personally checked the programming against what it should have been, and there are exactly zero errors. It’s literally the cleanest bit of programming I’ve ever seen.”

Conor nodded, heading to the kitchen for his own coffee. “And before anyone asks, we’ve had the calculations checked over by six different people, plus our mate Noah.  Calculations are accurate, they were programmed in accurately, and Grey’s people have tested to make sure the output is accurate.  Mav has already measured the samples with everything he could get his hands on, and they all show the amount of precision you would expect from an advanced civilization.  No fault to be found in the materials, whatsoever, which is where I come in.”

“Ugh. Huynh needs someone to blame, and since the materials are as perfect as you could ever dream of, he’s putting the fault in the construction?” I may have had my moments of grudging respect, but I never quite managed to like the bastard. Here he was, proving me right.

“Which puts me on furlough until they figure out what the cause is, yeah.” He huffed explosively and flopped down into the seat my sister vacated for him. “At least I can still work in the hydroponics lab.”

“No offense to you, Zach, but have you considered having Derek cross check the program?”

“None taken, and yes,” he sighed. “But he’s been holed up in his quarters for two weeks now, won’t talk to anyone.  I sent him several requests, but never got a response.”

Alarmed, I started to say something, but Tyche cut me off. “I already checked with Noah, and Derek’s okay.  Not sleeping well, but otherwise his physical health is fine.”

I stood anyway, frowning. “That’s good to hear, and I know he goes through periods where he can’t be around people, but two weeks?  It’s not like him.”  Snatching up my purple fuzzy blanket, I headed to the door. “Mac in your quarters?”

“Yeah, but Soph – “

“Nope.  I’m taking him the blanket and the cat.  If he wants to talk, he’ll talk, but at least this way I can see him with my own eyes. I won’t be long, I promise.  Zach, feel free to stay for dinner.  We’re doing pizza tonight.”  With that, I took off, focused on my mission.

It only took me about fifteen minutes to collect my furry co-conspirator and make it to Derek’s quarters. “Hey,” I called softly, praying he still had the outer microphone on. “I heard you’ve been taking some alone time, so I thought I would bring you the blanket and your buddy.  No clue how you managed two weeks without him, but Mac misses you – “

The door slid open, revealing a piled of blankets with a surly, squinting face poking out. The door is keyed to let him in, Derek said impatiently before stepping aside to let me in.

As soon as the door closed behind me, the blanket monster stomped past and dropped on the bed.  I was relieved that nothing about the room immediately screamed for help.  Low lights, white noise in the background, and about as tidy as I could expect from a seventeen-year-old.  Two arms thrust themselves from the heap of fabric on the bed, hands grasping in a gesture that needed no working knowledge of sign language to understand.  Obediently, I handed over the soft purple offering in my hands.  Meanwhile, Mac dropped gracefully next to Derek with a demanding yowl.

“He likes to be invited,” I explained gently.  It was taking every ounce of willpower – and some I was pretty sure I didn’t possess – to keep myself from interrogating him on the length of his isolation.  Instead, I watched him rub my blanket against his face with one hand while the other tugged the large black cat onto his lap and started stroking it.  Despite token resistance, Mac quickly settled in for what was likely long-overdue and well-deserved attention.

I waited a few seconds, in case Derek wanted to talk, then cleared my throat. “Well… let me know if you need me to bring you anything else, okay?  And remember, cheese will make Mac sick, no matter how much he likes it.”  Quietly, I left with clenched teeth and eyes burning from tears I refused to shed.  I was trying to break my habit of smothering people, but it was hard.  Logically, I knew Derek could take care of himself – superficially, he had been doing fine.  But the fact that every blanket he seemed to own was layered over him, even just to answer the door?  He needed comfort, clearly.  Being incredibly touch-averse, I had to restrain my urge to hug him and let Mac and the blankets do the work.

Halfway back to my quarters, my databand chirped.  With a flick, I displayed the screen to see a message from him. “Not sleeping well. Nightmares.  They make me jumpy.  Mac will help.”

The corner of my mouth quirked up, despite my heart wanting to break. “He’s good for that,” I replied. “He eats nightmares, I think.”

“I’m not a child, I don’t need silly stories.”

I scoffed. “I know that. I’m being serious.  I never have nightmares when he’s around, and he always makes that face like he just ate when I wake up. Either he’s figured out how to work a console or he eats bad dreams.”

“I’ll lock down my console and let you know.”

With a deep breath, I told myself Derek would be okay and strolled back into my quarters.  Zach, Tyche, and Conor were in the kitchen, laughing and working on getting the pizza dough going.  It panged my heart not to see Maverick, but a part of me hoped that he would still manage to make it home in time to eat with us.

I’ll make an anchovy pizza, just in case, I told myself.

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[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 74c (NSFW)

Charlie got there before him. “What’s this?” He asked.

Peter shot his dad a panicked look as he moved his fingers to reveal the packet of cigarettes. As far as he knew his mum was still clueless as to his little habit.

“Ah.” Charlie smiled. “Go on.” He kissed his son’s head and let him off. “Love you.”

After Peter had closed the door Duffy lent against the counter and tilted her head suspiciously at her husband. "What was that all about?"

“Peter smokes. But I think you know that anyway, don’t you?” He asked as he wrapped his arms around her waist and began to kiss her neck.

"That boy really thinks I'm an idiot doesn't he?"

“No. He just doesn’t want you to kick his arse for smoking.” He laughed.

"I wouldn't kick his arse, too much effort! I'll just invite him to come assist me next time I treat a patient whose lungs are shot from years of cigarette damage..."

“I’ve tried warning him of the dangers but, he’s his own person.” He caught her gaze, “You should open those messages I sent you earlier.”

"You're just trying to distract me so I don't lose my temper and go off in a huff."

“You should still open those messages.” His hand cupped her left breast.

"Pass me my phone then."

He handed over the phone. “Did it turn you on knowing I was been absolutely filthy?”

"Maybe." She smirked. She clicked on the messages. "Oh... My..!" She giggled.

“There was no way I was hiding /that/ erection.” He replied. His hand rubbing her inner thigh.

"So it seems..!" She giggled. "Aren't I a lucky girl?"

“Very lucky when it’s all yours.”

"Well, I never was very good at sharing." She replied, batting her eyelashes.

“No, no you weren’t.” He smirked. “You drive me insane.”

"You're just too easy to reel in..." She grinned smugly.

“You drive me wild! I’m always so horny around you.”

"You're like a dog in heat!"

“It’s you.” He answered back, “Your body is simply stunning when you’re pregnant.” His hand slipped into the front of her leggings.

She let out a moan as he teased his fingers along the edge of her knickers.

“How wet are you right now?” He asked as he moved his hand into her knickers.

"I'm sure you can tell."

“Bloody hell.” He whispered, “Pregnancy really does make you horny, doesn’t it?”

"Its a fun perk!" She giggled.

“Luckily enough for you, I think our sex drive is equal.”

"Luckily for you, you mean." She giggled. "I'd hate for you to struggle to keep up." She teased.

“There will be no issues of me not ever getting Charlie Jr up.”

"I'm glad." She grinned. "Now I seem to remember I promised you dinner on me tonight so what would you like..?"

“Other than you?”

"Your choice of what you get to eat me with."

“Chocolate.” He smirked.

"So predictable." She giggled. "Well, that's upstairs."

“You’re sweet enough but you taste so much better covered in chocolate.”

"You'd best go fetch it then."

“Do I need to make a shopping trip? Or did you bring your own.” He winked.

"I know my man well, there's some already in the bedside drawer."

“I take it you’ve wanted this for a while.”

"I thought it might come up whilst we were on holiday so I came prepared." She giggled.

Removing his hand, he grinned. “Come on then gorgeous, let’s go upstairs so I can cover you in chocolate.”

"You best not make a mess! I'm not explaining that to the cleaners at the end of the week."

“Why there's cum on the ceiling?” He laughed loudly.

"I was thinking more the chocolate sauce on the bedsheets."

“We could always wash them if you did get a bit too carried away?” He took her upstairs.

"Who's this 'we'?" She giggled. "I came on holiday to escape the laundry!"

“I’ll wash them then.” Reaching the bedroom, he quietly closed the door and ran his fingertips up her neck.

"Good boy." She whispered.

He put his hands up her top. “You’re so sexy!”

"You're not so bad yourself." She let out a low moan as his fingers worked higher.

“You are much sexier than I am.” His fingers got higher up towards her breasts.

"Punching above your weight are you?" She giggled.

“Yes.” He replied, “You caught my eye from the very first day. Imagined a lot of dirty stuff about you too.”

She guided them towards the bed. "Oh? Do tell..." She smirked.

He removed her top and threw it onto the floor. “I think you’ve re-enacted every single scenario I’ve thought.”

"You clearly need to reinvigorate that imagination of yours then!" She giggled, leaning back on her arms.

“Mm, sure do.” He began to kiss her shoulder and her neck.

She moaned softly but encouragingly.

He removed her bra, chucking it near the cot. His lips moving across her collarbone, planting gentle kisses.

"Careful..!" She chuckled.

“Of what?”

"Where you're throwing things."

“Oh yeah.” He laughed softly, “Sorry Oli.” He said gently.

"It's a bit of a mood killer..." She teased.

He caught her gaze. “Where do you want my tongue first?” He reached over to grab the chocolate sauce from the bedside table.

"Its your choice darling." She replied, shuffling backwards so she was further on the bed.

He opened the chocolate sauce and trailed it between her breasts and then over her nipples.

She shivered slightly in anticipation.

“You’re gorgeous.”

She blushed.

His tongue gently ran over the chocolate trail between her breasts.

Her back arched as her head lent backwards, a moan escaping her lips.

He continued to run his tongue up and down her cleavage. “Mmm, tasty.”

She trailed her finger through the sticky mess he left behind. "Mmm..!" She agreed as she sticked her finger clean.

His tongue tiptoed across her breasts towards her nipples.

"Mmm..." She moaned, trying to move herself closer.

He teased his tongue over her right nipple.

Her moans increased in volume.

He began to suck against her.

"Oh shit!" She breathed.

He did the same to the other nipple.

She tried to hold back but she was fighting a losing battle.

He continued to suck.

"Fuck! Charlie..!"

He continued until he tipped her over the edge.

She lay back, breathing hard, as he finished. He was grinning like the cat that got the cream.

She nodded, not having the breath to form coherent words.

“Fucking hell Duffy!”

She lay back on the bed giggling.

“I wondered what that wet patch was.” He laughed gently as he trailed kisses down her stomach.

"So rude!" She remarked then giggled as she felt the baby kick against it's father's face.

“Sorry Baby. Bet you’re wondering what daddy’s up to aren’t you?” He removed her leggings and knickers and placed a line of chocolate on her naval.

"Probably wondering what the hell just happened to mummy!" She giggled.

Charlie’s tongue ran up and down her naval.

"That tickles!" She giggled.

Charlie did it again and again, knowing it was tickling her.

"I'm getting all hell kicked out of me here!" She tried to be stern but couldn't help giggling.

“Sorry.” He stopped and lay next to her. “Duffy?”

"Yeh?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at his sudden shift in mood.

“I love you.” He grinned as he undid his belt.

She laughed, shaking her head indulgently at him.

He removed his jeans and his boxers. “Will you sit on my cock?” He asked. “I’ve got such an ache in my cock and balls.”

"Even after your lunchtime interlude?" She smirked.

“More so after my lunchtime interlude.”

"Give me a hand then."

He gave her a hand, helping her up.

Once back on her feet she groaned softly as she stretched out her back.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “You could always get on all fours and I’ll fuck you from behind.”

"I'm fine." She replied, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, it's your choice tonight. Reward for being prepared to have a wank in a public toilet!" She giggled.

“Would you be more comfortable on all fours?” He asked.

"Possibly." She shrugged.

“Shall we try?”

"Sure." She smiled.

When Duffy had got on all fours on the bed, Charlie began to kiss down her spine and over her bottom.

"Mmm..." She sighed contentedly, that felt strangely pleasant.

He did it again.

"Can you just keep doing that for the next three months?" She giggled.

“Make you feel good, huh?” He ran his tongue over her most intimate area.

"Very good!" She moaned loudly.

His tongue ran over her again.

"Faster..!" She moaned.

He did it again. And again, continuing to lick her. Encouraged by her words and moans.

"Shit!" She buried her face in the duvet.

[askthedespairkids]

Paranormality

Kyoji! There’s a call coming in from your laptop!

Kyoji: Addaghff!

He almost drops a test tube in surprise

What’s going on?!

You gotta answer it, Kyoji!

Kyoji: Right, right! *He answers* Hello? Can you hear me? What’s the situation?

Oh boy! Video is turned on! It’s Saori!

Saori: SaluuuuuuTATIONS! This is an emergency call. 

Kyoji: What’s the emergency? Is the Main Base under attack?! 

Saori: Uh… no. 

Kyoji: Is there a threat inbound? 

Saori: N-No? 

Kyoji: Is there a disease outbreak on the island?

Saori: No.

Kyoji: So what’s the emergency?

Saori: I’m having difficulty being taken seriously here.

Kyoji: …excuse me?

Saori: You and me? We’re both scientists. You’re certain to help my case.

Kyoji: I…I’m sorry, who is this again?

Saori: Kibe Saori. Ultimate Paranormal Investigator.

Kyoji: Ohhh. Kibe-san. You’re that one who wore the tinfoil hat, right?

Saori: I have been known to wear those on occasion. I don’t very often though. I don’t want the government in my head but I’m fine with the aliens. However the hat clearly made it difficult for them to reach me.

Kyoji: (Oh please help me, Gregor Mendel) Yeah, that’s…that’s interesting. So what did you need help with? Your credibility is being challenged?

Saori: Indeed.

Kyoji: How so? (I’m opening up a whole can of worms here, I can feel it)

Saori: No one is taking my job seriously. I can tell they don’t believe me when I talk about my past experiences and achievements. I’m determined to get into the forest outside the base, but plenty of people seem to be just as determined to keep me out. I’m SURE I could do something in the forest to restore my credibility. That I apparently never had here.

Kyoji: What is your job exactly? I thought paranormal investigators look for proof that aliens plant mind control chips in your teeth or something. Or study the way Bigfoots mate

Saori: *She makes a face* You think they’d be dumb enough to put those in the teeth? Those are fragile and get pulled all the time. I thought you were a scientist. ……yes I have studies Bigfoot mating habits.

Kyoji: I’m a geneticist, but I haven’t been upgraded to a xenobiologist. You’ll have to forgive my lack of expertise.  Wait, wait…what was that about- actually, never mind. Why are you interested in the forest?

Saori: There’s supposed to be yokai in there. But I’m certain there’s gotta be more. *She crosses her arms* As for my job, Paranormal Investigator is a generalization.

Kyoji: Well, I guess I can relate to you there. I’m more versed in human biology than just genes. But what do you mean more? Are you hoping to find alien artifacts?

Saori: Alien artifacts, ghosts, monsters… anything really.

Kyoji: Well…some of those I can vouch for.

Saori: Oh?

Kyoji: Oh, uh…nothing, just…well, there’s a reason nobody’s allowed there. It’s dangerous.

Saori: Exactly. That’s why there has to be something more.

Kyoji: And that’s why you should stay out. Seriously, of all the islands they could’ve colonized, they choose the most dangerous one.

Saori: Dammit not you too….

Kyoji: Kibe-san, if I may ask, are you one of those people who’ll stop at nothing to accomplish your goals? Even if it puts your life at risk?

Saori: Absolutely.

Kyoji: …are you also one of those people who thinks jet fuel can’t melt steel beams?

Saori: What? Where are you going with this?

Kyoji: Please answer the question. I’ll explain

Saori: You don’t have to. I don’t think jet fuel can melt steal beams. You think I’m crazy.

Kyoji: No, you’re not. You’re only mostly crazy- just like me- so you’re in good company. See, there’s a scale of crazy out there. At the far end is “dangerously delusional.” You don’t fall anywhere near there, so it’s good.

Saori: I know I don’t.

Kyoji: Instead, you feel that the only way to accomplish a goal that’s important to you is to throw yourself into it, consequences be damned

Saori: And?

Kyoji: And you’re missing some key steps in that process

Soari: Continue.

Kyoji: 1. Consider how your actions affect the people around you. Should something happen to you, what would happen to them? How would they react? 2. Consider how your actions affect the Foundation as a whole and potential consequences that could arise from it. 3. If you’re going to do it, don’t go in without plenty of preparation and protection. I can only really give you advice on the first two points. As for the third one…well, I can’t recommend using a flamethrower. 

Saori: *She points to the glowstick around her neck* I always have protection. 

Kyoji: …a glowstick?

Saori: It’s my focus. Where my powers are harnessed. As long as it’s on me, I’ll be safe. I’m sure of that.

Kyoji: You…have powers?

Saori: Absolutely!

Kyoji: Elaborate?

Saori: It’s what allows me to communicate with the paranormal and have good persuasion skills over them. And it just protects me in general. I’ve gotten horribly injured before but I’ve always made it out okay. And that’s because of my glowstick. ….it does other stuff too but that’s not information to disclose. 

Kyoji: ….I see. But does it protect you from everything?

Saori: I’m not dead, am I?

Kyoji: Not to my knowledge If your brain is still showing activity, I’d say it’s a good sign you’re not

Saori: My point is I’m not dead so clearly it does.

Kyoji: As far as you know. I mean, going by your explanation, the fact that it’s worked up to now is only proof that it works against some paranormal entities. Unless your life is far more adventurous than you’re letting on, you can’t be certain it works against everything

Saori: Being a paranormal investigator is a dangerous job. I’m been in more than my fair share of near-death experiences from non paranormal circumstances.

Kyoji: Like what? Wild dogs?

Saori: Wild dogs, cave-ins, being trapped while water rises, running out of oxygen while deep under water, falling from stories high, fires, storms at sea, being lost…. you name it.

Kyoji: …okay, far more than I was expecting.

Saori: I don’t just try to prove the existence of the paranormal. I search for it. I study it. I solve problems involving it. I embrace it. I LIVE it.

Kyoji: You ever deal with MRSA?

Saori: Depends on what that means for you.

Kyoji: Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus. It’s a strain of antibiotic-resistant bacteria. It’s a very painful and unpleasant infection, and one that’s very difficult to treat. One of the ways you can catch it? Being around livestock. And given how many paranormal encounters seem to involve cows, I imagine you’ve been around plenty

Saori: I suppose.

Kyoji: Just saying, you could survive the most insane adventure imaginable and end up succumbing to the most unexpected thing

Saori: But I haven’t yet. We won’t know unless we try.

Kyoji: Ever heard of Bobby Leach?

Saori: The Niagara Falls guy?

Kyoji: Yep. He went over the falls in 1911, suffered two broken knee caps and a fractured jaw, but he survived. In 1926, he slipped on an orange peel, injured his leg, and died of a resulting infection

Saori: He didn’t have my glowstick. Your comparisons don’t really mean anything.

Kyoji: A glowstick isn’t going to protect you from an infection is what I’m saying. Trust the disease expert. I’ve had part of my leg eaten off by flesh-eating bacteria because I was experimenting with a cure that it turns out didn’t work 

Saori: You also didn’t have my glowstick. You still survived without it though. The damage I take doesn’t matter to me as long as I’m alive.

Kyoji: *sigh* I mean, you can keep the glowstick, but it doesn’t hurt to use other means of protection, right?

Saori: Of course not. I’m not stupid.

Kyoji: Okay, good. If you plan on going in that forest, I recommend…well, many things. Number one on the list is probably a hazmat suit. A Tier-3 one, at least. 

Saori: ….just what exactly is in there? What are you hiding?

Kyoji: Bad things. That’s all you really need to know. I can’t stop you from going in, so I just want to make sure you’re sufficiently prepared for doing so. Don’t be like me. Don’t accidentally get your friends nuked.

Saori: I smell a conspiracy.

Kyoji: There is no conspiracy. I just made some dumb, stupid mistakes in the past

Saori: It’s a conspiracy until proven correct to the general public.

Kyoji: That’s…no, it’s not. Do you even know what a conspiracy is?

Saori: Yes but I use the term loosely.

Kyoji: A conspiracy specifically refers to secret activities that are harmful or malicious. Just because something’s secret doesn’t make it a conspiracy.

Saori: I know thaaaaaaaat.

Kyoji: I question how some conspiracy theories are supposed to work. I mean, all the world’s governments are just quiet about aliens? Nobody’s ever blown the whistle and taken some hard, irrefutable evidence to back it up? Documents are one thing, but no UFO’s? No alien weapons or technology? Nothing?

Saori: It gets mistaken for other things. Or explained as other things.

Kyoji: Uh-huh. Like how the Tunguska Event was really an alien spaceship? 

Saori: *Her eyes narrow* I’ll have you know I’ve personally been abducted by aliens.

Kyoji: Really now?

Saori: Absolutely.

Kyoji: What was that like?

Saori: I felt more home than ever.

Kyoji: Uhh…Are you implying something with that beyond your fascination with the paranormal?

Saori: Elaborate.

Kyoji: Have you met Ishikawa Tsukiko? She was part of Class 79. According to her, she’s already dead.

Saori: I’m not an alien.

Kyoji: Okay, I just wanted to be sure, but I didn’t want to be rude

Saori: It just felt like home.

Kyoji: What did the aliens look like?

Soari: ….I was pretty little so I don’t remember everything in great detail. However…. I remember they were humanoid. Their necks were long and they had no hair. They were unusually pale. Their limbs all looked too long for their bodies and they spoke in clicking sounds. They didn’t have ears and their noses were like slits. Their skin was leathery. Their eyes were like ours except all their irises were yellow. I remember the eyes the most.

Kyoji: So…basically like the typical alien look? For the most part?

Saori: Kinda yeah. But those are just the ones I remember most. They were the ones doing the most stuff with me. There were other kinds of aliens here and there. But because there weren’t as many I don’t remember them that well. 

Kyoji: Were they like…examining you? That seems to be a recurring theme in alien abduction accounts

Saori: No not examining.

Kyoji: What then?

Saori: Teaching.

Kyoji: Teaching? What did they teach you?

Saori: *She frowns* I don’t remember all of it. It didn’t help I was so young and that they couldn’t communicate with me. I just remember sitting in a chair while they showed my different pictures and objects and tried to talk with me. I don’t know what the point was.

Kyoji: Huh. Interesting. I mean, it’s understandable that you couldn’t communicate, pardon the phrasing there

Saori: Pardoned. *She pauses and then points to the glowstick again* They gave me this.

Kyoji: Really? It…looks just like a regular glowstick to me. Or is that the point? 

Saori: Not sure. It’s just always looked like this. Point is it was given to me by them, presented to me in a small case. And it’s never stopped glowing.

Kyoji: …you’ve made sure it’s not radioactive, right?

Saori: Absolutely.

Kyoji: Okay, good. But they just gave it to you? Maybe they saw some potential in you?

Saori: *She smiles widely* That’s what I think too. 

Kyoji: That’s quite an interesting story. Glad to know you wouldn’t rely on that to protect you from everything. An alien glowstick is cool, but it’s not going to stop a monokuma

Saori: It’s just a boost. I know how to take care of myself. ……….you do believe my story right?

Kyoji: At this point in my life, I’m ready to believe a lot of things. Though I admit to being skeptical, that’s my duty as a scientist. If I could examine that glowstick under careful conditions, maybe we could see how it differs.

Soari: ……..I’ve never taken it off.

Kyoji: Never? How long have you had it?

Saori: Since I was about 5 or so.

Kyoji: Well, I’m not about to take it from you. Alien or not, it’s special to you. Still, if we ever cross paths in person, I could take a look at it and you wouldn’t need to take it off.

Saori: ……and what if all you see is a normal glowstick?

Kyoji: Well…maybe that’s a sign that you had the power in you all along

Saori: I am not sure what to make of that statement.

Kyoji: Y-you never seen that in stories? The hero thinks their power comes from some artifact or something, then it gets destroyed or they lose it, but it turns out they don’t need it because they had the power in themselves the whole time. That kind of thing

Saori: No I know that. I’m just not sure what to make of it when it comes from a scientist. A clearly skeptical one. 

Kyoji: Skeptical, but I like to keep an open mind about what’s possible. I mean, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve made it no secret that I’ve helped perfect the process for human cloning. People thought it couldn’t be done for decades 

Saori: And yet the thing that makes you skeptical is the paranormal.

Kyoji: I’d really like to understand it more, but it’s such a weird nebulous area. Maybe you could help enlighten me sometime?

Saori: I’d be happy to.

Kyoji: I would appreciate that. Maybe with that knowledge, we can help end this Tragedy

Saori: Maybe. …….Nakamura-san?

Kyoji: Yeah?

Saori: You said you do genetics stuff. …..What’s the possibility of you being able to completely change someone’s genes to the opposite sex?

Kyoji: Uhhh….well, I’ve never done it before, nor have I heard about it being done. But a complete genotypical sex change? I think it’s possible

Saori: …..Would you be willing to try?

Kyoji: If it’s what the party in question would like, I see no reason not to. I’ve dabbled in that realm of surgery before, but not quite to that level. But could I do it? I’m certain it’s possible.

Saori: Well it is most certainly what the party in question would like. 

Kyoji: Then it’s what they shall receive…once I figure out how I’m going to get it done. And when I finish working on some other WIPs, but I jump around with projects, so everything gradually moves forward. This’ll take some time and experimenting. I’ve never done it before and I want to make sure it works first, but when I know it does, you’ll be the first to know. Well…second, I guess, but you get what I mean.

Saori: I want to be the only one to know besides you. Unless it’s given to the public. But I most definitely do not want people to know it’s me you’re doing it to.

Kyoji: If that’s what you want. Doctor-patient confidentiality.Though I do plan to publish my finished projects to the world once all of this is over, I’ll be keeping the people who helped make them possible anonymous

Saori: If there’s every anything I can do to help with it, please let me know.

Kyoji: Well, probably the basic safety tips of “limit radiation/UV exposure” and “don’t die.” Also, there’s a scanner in my old lab in the 4th branch. It has a little needle thing on an arm. If you can give it a blood sample, it’ll send me your genetic data, which will give me a good starting point

Saori: Sounds good.

Kyoji: Also, eat plenty of vegetables. That doesn’t have anything to do with this beyond maintaining good health.

Saori: Nasty.

Kyoji: Karma says the same things and I always have to insist, but hey, I guess that’s part of being a father

Saori: Karma’s interesting.

Kyoji: Very. *he smiles* I’m so proud of them.

Saori: That’s good that you are.

Kyoji: Thank you/ And while I’d like to continue this discussion, I have some projects I need to get back to, as well as a new one to start on. I’ll notify you once I’ve made progress

Saori: Thank you.

Kyoji: You’re very welcome. Whatever I can do to help

Saori: ……..is… is this where I end the call?

Kyoji: For now, but we can talk later if you’d like

Saori: Sounds good.

Kyoji: Take care, Kibe-san

Saori: You too.

The call ends.

[coloredinsanity]

Kristie please make it not trash. :V

"He's late..." Valentina noted as she glanced at the clock; it wasn't like she was mad... Jenna quietly wondered from the corner if she was capable of being mad. Agatha chimed in before anyone else as she spoke. "He's a civil lawyer; It's like... You know how on the news how they'll have breaking news every few hours? " Valentina nodded a little as she looked to Agatha who was curled up beside her husband, writing in a notebook.  She was taking this time off work to try to catch up on some paperwork in regards to other things...  Agatha smiled a bit as she thought through how to explain things. "So imagine that everytime there's a breaking news story he's offered a job. It's sort've like that. It's not that he takes them all but he might've gotten and important call. He's never late so I'm sure it's just something like that."

Valentina nodded and smiled as she walked over to glance out the window once more before letting out a vague sigh and flopping on the other end of the couch next to Jenna who was waiting for her own date who glanced over before moving enough so Valentina could watch the you tube videos that she was watching. ----

"Sorry..." Matt quickly spoke as Valentina opened the car door but she simply smiled with not even a hint of anger in her lips as it was just the way she was, getting in and buckling up before placing her purse on her lap and looking over at him. "It's okay!" she stated with a happy chime. "I - Well I sort've understand how your job is... You're here now and that's all that matters!"  She reached over, turning up the radio a little as she began to sing along to the song on that she liked. A smile resting on Matt's lips as he watched her; Valentina was a bit odd but he never regretted dancing with her for a second. She was the kindest and most genuine person he'd met in this town.

----

The Chinese food place was a little hole in the wall but it was fantastic. Matt glanced over at the kid hanging off the arm of what he assumed was her dad for a moment before glancing back to Valentina, smiling. Valentina giggled a little bit as she rubbed her head a little. "I'm sorry, I've been talking like crazy about, nothing.  How was your day..?"

"Excellent actually... It's taken long enough but now that Quinn Hardy has broken the supernatural barrier and has people talking about they finally have the majority of people on there side against Heron; The city is doing a case against them."

Usually Valentina just listened and praised but for once she choked slightly before frowning. He could see her body visibly become uncomfortable, tense... Her fingers twisted. He'd never seen such a repulsed action from a single word or phrase...and then it passed as a false smile filled her lips and she spoke. "That's fantastic. I'm glad you're able to help people... Do you think Aggie will get in trouble?"  She asked with a solem tone.  He wanted to assume that was why she reacted so poorly but something nagged in his stomach...The fear and sadness stained in her eyes she'd masked so well was visible once again. ----

It'd been three weeks since then as he stared at his laptop screen... The two hackers hired by the city had managed to crack almost half the files but they were out of order so he was putting together the dates and people involved. He didn't really want to watch the videos but he wanted to make this case solid after he'd just simply looked at some of the before and after photos of people who'd been in Heron.  They weren't coming back, ever. He decided this.

The first few folders were already terrible; A girl's mother watching her daughter rithe in agony from injections and documenting it like she was talking about the weather; He knew that girl. Angeline, she worked as a barista... She wasn't even a non-human at least to began with but her file explained how long ago that changed.

Video of a mute girl who essentially seemed to be being tortured somehow but the cameras were stopped by a plant that grew over the lens and according to the matching audio file; plants stopped the entire procedure from occurring.  

He clicked on the next folder, VC-921.  The hackers had renamed files of people they were able to identify and as he clicked it open he saw the rest of the title and his breath caught in his throat as he reread it several times. 'Valentina Constantine.'  

He didn't want to even click the videos but after a moment he pulled them over to the video player and hit play.

The first few videos weren't to bad but it was clearly the young woman he'd been courting for the last few years although she was just a child in this video; Seven or so?   She seemed annoyed, aggravated. He didn't even know she could be aggravated as he watched her slam on the door over and over and over.

She didn't fight the first time they injected her although she cried a lot; he couldn't blame her. The needle was massive and god knows what was inside it; it was glowing.  He pulled his eyes from the video for a moment just to glance at the paperwork scans that went alongside it, finding the one that matched and reading through it but it appeared they didn't even really know what it was but they'd found that it'd bled out of one of the few things he'd been informed by the librarian that would be classified as and actual 'monster' it had no humanity, it just; killed things, that was it's purpose.  He'd have to ask her what exactly it was as the name was barely pronounceable.  

The screaming finally started soon after the injection; Valentina's eyes turning purple and the screaming abnormal as she clawed at her arms until they bled, thrashing around her bed before getting up and clawing at the door as she screamed for help that never came and as the screaming stopped she fell to her knees, objects in the room floating up and suddenly slamming into the door, the metal bed falling to pieces and assuming she was responsible for it she'd managed to hit herself several times with the few objects before finally everything including herself crumpled to the ground. It wasn't until and hour of the video passed until a medical team came in to actually check her wounds.

He felt sick; A trip to the bathroom he finally came back into the living room where he'd been working and walked over to the fridge, grabbing the case of beer Vain had brought months ago during a little get together; he didn't drink often but tonight was and exception to that rule as he sat back down... He didn't want to watch but he had to. Not just for the case...But for the woman he cared so dearly for.. He wanted to know everything about her even the worse of it as he hit play once again.

She was older; Thirteen?  He watched as the men came in as she begged and pleaded, several syringes one after the other being injected into her. Her eyes glowing and her entire body convulsing as they held her in place. The video ending quickly however as someone said "It's not working, nevermind."

Same age, new day. She looked terrible... She was underweight and looked gaunt, her eyes dull with large dark circles underneath them.   Luckily nothing else happened...

The next video sadly explained far to much to him... His face falling as he looked away from the screen. Valentina was uncomfortable whenever they got 'to close...'  And one time it sent her into and all out panic attack that Jenna even struggled to calm her down from.

The man had been in the past videos. He was one of the men who'd hold her down; and he was doing that again. Though Matt doubted this was for anything related to Heron; this was just a sick man who knew she couldn't fight back. She didn't even understand... He wiped his tears from his eyes as he swallowed a rough mouthful of beer.  He looked back if only to get a look at the man's face... He'd find a way to make sure he was locked away somewhere so far that he'd never be seen again, the sound of a metal can flattening in his fingers as he glared at the man's perverse grin.

He made his way through the rack of beer and the videos and photos...They all were essentially the same until the last one where she argued that 'You promised I could go outside!' - He didn't understand how she was able to smile the way she did. He didn't understand it at all as the tears ran down his face and he closed his laptop.  

----

He knew as a lawyer that she'd be a great witness but as her 'not-boyfriend' he didn't even want to ask her... He didn't want to make her cry like he'd watched her do the night before. His eyes lost as he stared at his coffee instead of her as they had breakfast together like usual...

As naive as she was her voice dropped it's cheery tone as she finally said something that wasn't related to the story about Jenna.  Her violet eyes dully staring at the cake she'd been given for free by Rachael's fiancee.  "You know now, don't you...?"  Her voice sounded like it could crack into tears any moment but she managed to hold herself together.

"Valentina I - I had - It was - The videos are the best evidence - " He tried to form a sentence but it all blurred into a random string of words that barely sorted it's self out towards the end.  

"It's...I knew...you might find out. I - I couldn't bring myself to tell you. I - I thought you'd think I was insane...and then I thought you'd think...that. I wasn't - "  She let out a shaky breath as she spoke again. "The last guy that I met before you... I liked him, Vain let it slip... He heard the story from someone else in town and it freaked him right out so bad he didn't want anything to do with me... He said I was damaged. He said I was a freak  - I didn't want to feel that again. I-I'm sorry, P-Please don't hate me..." Tears finally began to fall, hitting her plate as she covered her face with her baggy sleeves and began to hyperventilate.

He barely realized he was upright, Matt's arms sliding around her, carefully. He knew she panicked when people gave her tight hugs... His fingers sliding through her hair and pressing her against him. "I could never - ever, hate you."

[sending-the-message]

What the blind man sees by TobiasWade

I’ll never see her face again. If my blindness only meant scrubbing this dirty world into an ocean of black mist, then I think I could learn to accept that. Stealing my wife from me before her time though — that I’ll never forgive. It’s bad enough she’s sick and fading from me already, but not being able to see her to say goodbye is killing me as surely as it is her.

I suppose it’s my fault though. I spent the last few nights leading up to my accident shifting around the rigid hospital chair beside her bed. I was so tired that I could barely walk straight, and all it took was a patch of black ice in the parking lot to pitch me to the ground. My head slammed into the asphalt and everything went dark. The black mist didn’t lift, but next I could remember I was sitting in my own hospital bed with a nurse explaining what had happened.

“…post-traumatic cortical blindness,” she was saying. “It seems like there was some damage to your occipital cortex when you hit the ground.”

“Where’s Sarah? Where’s my wife? I want to see her.”

The nurse just coughed, giving me time for my own words to sink in. “There’s a chance your vision loss is being caused by pressure on the optic nerve, which can be potentially corrected with surgery. The doctor doesn’t want to get your hopes up though. You should be prepared to adjust to life without sight.”

It’s true that I couldn’t see the nurse, or the hospital room, or even my own hand an inch from my face. But the worst thing was I could still see. It just wasn’t the same world I had left behind. I fumbled for words trying to explain the black and purple vines which dangled around me from unfathomably tall trees. How they swayed gracefully in an unfelt wind, bending across their hundreds of joints like fingers bending back and forth upon themselves. I pointed at the greasy orange sky and the swarms of softly teeming insects which obliviously paraded towards me from all sides.

“Hallucinations aren’t unheard of after acute vision loss…”

It was hard to take her seriously when her voice seemed to be coming from a giant blue flower whose bell-shaped petals seemed deep enough for me to stand in. If this was a hallucination, then it was clearer and more vivid than anything I could have possibly imagined. I tried again to explain the infinitesimal detail of the insect’s uneven carapaces, but she excused herself to leave without letting me finish. I never even got the chance to tell her that I could feel the thousands of tiny legs crawling up my body as the insect parade passed through the origin of disembodied perspective.

I was stuck somewhere between worlds. I could still feel the coarse fabric of the hospital blanket, but so could I feel the smooth gloss of each leaf and barky tree in this sudden jungle I was mired within. I pulled on one of the purple digits only to see it coil around my arm, inquisitively feeling me in return. I tore away from and tried to stand, leaning on a cold metal IV pole that I couldn’t see.

I felt like I was going insane, and there was no amount of reasonably toned nurses or insightful doctors that would convince me otherwise. I knew instinctively that I had to find my wife — Sarah was the only real thing left to ground in the world I was supposed to be in.

It wasn’t easy navigating two worlds at once. Even when I shuffled around until I found the door to my room, I still had to push myself through a thick curtain of fingers which had inconveniently infested the portal. It was slow going navigating the invisible hallways while plowing through the thick jungle foliage, and to make matters worse the blue-white sun was beginning to smolder and set in the orange sky. My hearing remained fixed to this world strangely enough, so at least I was able to hear people approaching and not run into anyone.

Once someone pointed me to the main elevator, I had no trouble from there. I had visited Sarah so many times that I could find the way with my eyes closed. It was disorienting to feel myself rise in the elevator, seemingly flying directly into the air, ducking and dodging branches as I did. I hesitated before her door to ask the passing footsteps:

“Sarah’s room?”

“Are you sure you should be out of bed? Let me go ask —”

“Is my wife in here?”

“Yes, but she should be resting too. She had another grand mal seizure last night. Hold on, I’ll go see if I can find the doctor.”

Footsteps. My hand was on the door, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to push through. Sarah had been in the hospital for the last three months, growing weaker each passing day. There had been a number of tentative hypothesis, but there has yet to be a definite diagnosis to the underlying issue. I guess that’s why I’ve been holding out hope for so long: if she could get sick without a reason, then she didn't need a reason to get better either. All those nights I’d spent beside her, watching her pale face and listening to her shallow breathing — it was all some kind of cosmic misunderstanding that would sort itself out on its own.

It was only now when I knew I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. The black and purple fingers protruded thickly like sprouting plants on the wide branch beyond, converging on a recumbent form the exact size and shape of a human. Some of them reared their sensitive tips only to plunge directly back into the mass, pulsing and squirming as they did fought one another to penetrate farthest. All too clearly I could imagine them puncturing her body or forcing themselves down her where her throat should have been. If this wasn’t a hallucination, then it was explaining an illness that an entire hospital couldn’t decipher.

“Sarah?” I opened the door. “Are you in there?”

Her gentle moan. That’s all I’ve heard from her the last week. It hadn’t made any sense to the doctors as she appeared conscious, but it made sense now. How was she supposed to speak this whole time with those things lodged in her throat?

Sickened and furious, I flung myself at the warped vines, carelessly clattering through her invisible bedside table as I did. I seized one near where her head must be and pulled with all my strength, feeling it go taunt to resist me as I did. Other vines were reacting, unwinding themselves from her to seize me by the arms and legs. I fought through it, clutching and tearing, even sinking my teeth into the rubbery thing. More fingers crawled from the branches above, circling around my arms, up my shoulders, slithering around my neck…

“Someone help! Get them off her!” I shouted.

The fingers were constricting around me, but I didn’t let go. I threw my whole body weight backwards, heaving and straining until something finally gave. Sarah was coughing and retching, the beeping of her vitals going berserk as I struggled. She was shaking so bad that the whole bed rattled, each increment of progress agonizing to watch as I knew the finger must be relinquishing its hold of her stomach and lungs, or however deep the corruption spread. All the while my bondage was secured, ruthlessly tightening to cut off blood supply to my arms and crush my throat into a collapsing pinprick.

“She’s having another seizure. Get a doctor in here!” One of the nurses. I was held so firmly in place that I couldn’t even turn toward her, not like I could see her even if I could.

“What about him?”

“He’s not responding. Get him on the ground and keep his airway clear.”

Hands unwittingly pushed their way past the swarming appendages to ease me down. The pressure slackened, some returning their attention to the knot which surrounded my wife. Blood was beginning to return to my limbs. I could feel, and as soon as I could breath, I could fight again. I was still gasping on the floor when the doctor entered the room.

How could I tell? Well there were certainly auditory clues as a gruff voice barked commands to the nurses, but more prominently was the knot of interlacing fingers which formed the shape of a human. They were spread so finely that every artery and vein must be filled, and I could clearly see them pulse and twitch as they tightened and relaxed, moving the doctor through the room like a puppet.

“Another seizure,” the doctor said. I could see the strum around his head as the things inside him opened and closed his mouth, with smaller ones inside maneuvering his tongue and vibrating his vocal chords. “Check her mouth. Make sure there isn’t any vomit or obstruction.”

“The fingers!” I shouted, aware of how mad I must appear rolling on the ground. “Get them out of her! She can’t —”

“And give him something to calm down. Diazepam, 400 miligrams should do it.”

“They’ve got him too — don't touch me — don't let him touch Sarah —"

I tried to sit up, but someone was squatting on top of me and pinning me to the ground. I jerked as a needle slid into my thigh, but the pressure only increased. Something scoured through my veins. The humanoid network that was the doctor dropped to his haunches beside me, and I felt a warm hand run down my face to cup my chin. It was getting too dark to see anything at all.

“Just a nasty hallucination, that’s all. Let’s get you back to bed and see if we can’t do something about those eyes.”

They had good news for me when I woke up. Not only were they able to alleviate the pressure on my optic nerve, but my wife had made a miraculous recovery during the procedure. I actually wept in relief when I opened my eyes on the hospital room and saw Sarah anxiously sitting over my bed. Just Sarah and the room — no fingers, no unfamiliar jungle, no crawling sensation of the insects or dodging alien trees.

They told me Sarah was talking and eating and even walking on her own, although they warned me she was still stiff and slow to react. “Stiff” isn’t how I’d describe her lurching movements though. She seems more like a marionette doll to me, tethered by unseen strings from the inside and out.