#he knows exactly how the government stands towards ghosts

[ilovereading5252]

DpxDc promt

Danny knows he can get a bit hyper focused. Especially if it concerns him personally. So maybe he didn’t notice that other places also had ghost problems. So what? He fixed it didn’t he. He even said sorry, all right. He will pay more attention from now on.

The Justice League, probably: It’s alright, we forgive you, but what did you do with them?

[kitsunesfandomtime]

Treasure Vault - CH 4

Characters: All for One, Yoichi Shigaraki, Second One for All User

Relationship: All for One & Yoichi Shigaraki, All for One & Second One for All User

Warning: Platonic Yandere, EXTRA Disturbing behavior, Vault time, Force Feeding, self-imposed starvation, AFO being surprisingly nice with kids

Summary: All for One has had enough of his little brother's rebellious nature. He can't afford to risk his little brother's life by letting him continue this. If he has to commit cruelties to keep his brother safe, then so be it. What's one more sin on the pile?

It has been months since Hisashi entrapped his little brother in that vault that had never been intended for this. Each day grew longer as it felt like the ghost of his victims lingered longer than it should. Wondering if the guilt of everything was truly driving him mad and now had tried to do some 'negotiations' with the Vigilantes.

They were becoming an annoyance and while had been tempted to just get rid of him felt as if could win them over. Maybe he can use that as leverage to show Yoichi he isn't just a monster and has got some heroes on his side. Well, that was the intention but it was clear upon first meeting the leader was... Well, they certainly had quite a look.

Those red eyes and rugged looks would be quite charming if it wasn't clearly looking like he wanted to shoot him with his quirk. Likely only held back because is still startled at the sudden peace treaty. The very same man who laughed and cheered after slaughtering men was also trying to reach out to the ones who hated crossfire.

"You must have lost your mind considering you haven't exactly been 'kind' toward my group," the leader, uh was it Kenji? Kaiji? Some other third thing? Ugh, he's terrible at names well he will just call him Gearshift since it's his quirk.

"But you still accepted the offer to talk," Hisashi points out with a smile as knows it means the other is hoping for some kind of avenue. As even the leader must know when it comes to a one-on-one confrontation with All for One it was a death wish. Though he didn't respond to that seeming to be waiting for him to offer, such a quiet man.

"You must be really popular with the ladies," Hisashi notes with a sigh as he shakes his head. Holding his wine glass that had been poured the other wasn't touching his offered drink. As if expecting him to poison him, "I didn't poison it. Trust me if I want you dead you wouldn't be standing."

The man's eyes narrow as if to say he didn't believe him as he moves the drink farther from him, "I rather not drink during negotiation."

Negotiations are going to be quite difficult. He could at least make an attempt to try and smooth things over.

"Fine, more for me then," he answers with a shrug. Knowing the man likely thought of him as childish as if the bastard had any right to judge him.

"What do I have to give for you guys to ally with us and help us dismantle the government?" He might as well cut to the chase. Watching the man's lips turn into a sneer guessing didn't like how he went for the point.

"When you stop so casually getting people hurt in the crossfire and gloating how great you are," Was all Gearshift answered as stared intently at him with pure contempt.

This cheeky bastard. A part of Hisashi wonders if Yoichi would even actually like the man or would only like what he represents. He grits his teeth just a hint but it turns into a smile as he looks at the man. It was unbecoming to get upset over such things he knew this going in the other already had a negative impression of him.

"You do realize I'm in a war against the government itself right? Most fault is in them they don't even acknowledge me," he points out as he leans back in his seat. "I've had 'civilians' be contracted to try, capture, harm and poison me. I'm just trying to survive and most of the people I take in are metahumans or former ones who been hurt. I'm not the villain you think I am and you can ask anyone working for me."

Gearshift certainly seemed quite a stubborn man but even he should at least see he isn't all evil. Slowly All for One leans on the table as he stands up allowing the other to see his full height as he looks him down with a coy smile.

"So tell me, what will it take?" He purrs at the other as he holds out a hand toward the other. That is until the other let out a loud laugh making him recoil in confusion because what was so funny?

"You seriously believe that you can just buy me? That I sell my soul to you just because in your delusions you believe you're in the right? That the amount of people you've murdered in your quest is justified?" Gearshift looked amused as if wanting Hisashi to admit it. "I may not like the government but if you end up in charge I already know there will be no future for Japan."

There is a pause as the great symbol of evil slowly registers that the other truly believed that. This man would prefer a government that is in martial law, abusing its power, while being too slow to do anything. Worst there was no fear in this man's eyes simply staring him down despite likely being aware of what he could do. This insignificant man was acting as if was some how equal to him in threat despite the fact at this moment All for One could easily kill him and he be helpless.

Seems like this meeting was pointless. A pity.

A heavy sigh escapes him as he slides back into his seat more than able to tell that since the start the man wasn't here to negotiate. He was here as a courtesy and to make it clear where he stands. Hisashi tilts his head just a bit as he stares intently at the man who seemed to think the conversation was over. Slowly getting to his feet there was one more thing that needed to be said.

"You're a killer too," Hisashi speaks calmly watching the man tense up. "You've murdered my men and stolen from the government. Play pretend all you want that you're some hero and I won't do anything now. This is neutral grounds, but next time you get in my way..."

His malice, his hatred as he grits his teeth at the hypocrisy of this man acting as if he was something above the rabble. This hero was a man carrying out his own sense of justice no different than his own. His hands were not clean and he won't let him leave thinking he is, "There won't be any mercy."

It was a promise.

"You never show it to anyone. So I expected nothing less," was Gearshift's own response. Though as he got up he suddenly got really close to All for One's seat moving in close to stare him down. "And you don't scare me."

His last words before he leaves.

All for One and the 'Vigilantes' failed to make an alliance. But he knows next time he will make sure to wipe them out now that he knows who they are. With a leader like him they can grow into a challenge, he needs to be careful.

As he downs the rest of his drinks knowing he could have done better. He knows what people want and yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. Something about him, those eyes that looked down at him despite their differences created a visceral response. That made him want to forgo using a quirk and grab his hand around that man's throat to wipe that look off his face.

He is much too emotional for the role he wants to become.

"And I still have to visit Yoichi," he mutters as he gets up guessing there was no point in avoiding it.

---------

His little brother has been suffering hallucinations and delusions since being trapped. Claiming things that Hisashi knows for a fact did not happen like hurting him and constantly insulting him.

Yes, he has called him some names but Yoichi acts as if he would spend every visit just beating him down verbally and bruising him. Even Hisashi can't tolerate being that terrible his little brother is already trapped, why would he do that?

It seems like a waste of energy so can only assume Yoichi is hallucinating such things. Was it concerning? Quite a bit so a part of him is wondering if he should take him to a doctor. Since it made his brother even more hostile than normal toward him randomly and bruises have started appearing on his brother likely self-inflicted.

Still, he doesn't stop his usual routine of making his baby brother's food by hand. Bringing in more food knowing it would be wasted and having to force-feed him it was his attempt at showing he still cares. That he will even accept even a pleasant lie-

Only to have to sidestep a tray being flung at him as if Yoichi had spent all day just waiting for him to arrive.

"Have you really resorted to throwing food?" Hisashi speaks almost exasperated at the other's action.

"Just let me go dammit!" Yoichi shouted before covering his own ears as if to ignore anything he wanted to say. Those green eyes were now shut as looks away despite the assault as he was curled on the bed. At least he was using the bed instead of being on the floor and here he thought he slept on the floor.

"Stop that. You go and then what?" Hisashi sneers hating every time the other talks about leaving. He places the food on the table as he watches his little brother curl up into a ball on the bed. Knowing for a fact the other doesn't actually want him gone at this point his resistance is nothing but a show.

A way to make himself feel like he was still following his own moral code and not throwing way too long of a tantrum. Hisashi watches his little brother not move and takes that as a sign to approach. Even though he recoiled when he felt the bed shift Hisashi makes sure to move an arm over his other side.

Trapping him beneath as he stares down at the young man who kept his eyes shut and a small hum escaped him. This is the closest he has gotten in a while that didn't earn a violent reaction. Slowly he leans down and presses a kiss against his little brother's head hearing a sharp breath from the other.

"Shhh I'm not going to hurt you. You know that," he whispers as the male seemed so exhausted and weak. Though Hisashi can't help but feel pleased when the other doesn't lash out like he usually did. It was a triumph, or well it would be before he heard a growl and then felt teeth dig into the arm he just put over the other.

Hisashi winces but guessed he should have expected it as his little brother has been becoming more animalistic in this place. Though he doesn't remove his arm as he feels those teeth dig in as at this point his brother was pitiable.

"You've become just an animal," he sighs it no longer hurts him as much that his brother hates him now. Though as he stares at his little brother memories of how they would hide in bed together return to his mind. Their fights that used to be playful were now violent as he could feel his brother's teeth pierce his skin.

Able to see those green eyes staring at him as if daring him to insult him or aggravate the situation. Unheroic and an absolute mess but he was still his adorable baby brother despite all that.

"Have you gained a taste for human flesh? You can have a piece of myself inside you forever," Hisashi teased knowing before he reacted a bit more violently but he wasn't showing it. Though seem his words worked as Yoichi seemed to realize what he was going on and released the bite trying to move away from underneath as he wiped his mouth of the blood. Snapping out of whatever he was in.

"You're disgusting," Yoichi mutters. Whether it was because he teased wanting a piece of him literally or was trying to imply it actually tasted bad he isn't sure. He hopes it's the former he hates to actually learn he tastes like shit this way.

"I'm disgusting? Have you looked at yourself? You literally bit me," Hisashi taunts as he sits upright with amusement as this was the closest they had returned to their old selves. With his brother acting annoyed and grumpy as hell about whatever Hisashi did.

Yoichi looked ready to retort only for the male to seem to realize he was giving him what he wanted. Shutting up instantly and stopping all conversations, is a pity.

"I had a meeting with the Vigilantes," Hisashi notes casually watching those eyes look a bit surprised. Was it really such a surprise to hear that he opened his hands to some small little militia?

"I decided to try for a 'treaty' but it seems they already have me as the bad guy in their mind. Next time will be a blood bath," he informed and of course, Yoichi's expression changed back to annoyance. Clearly not pleased at being informed of this likely thinking they must be right. As if ready to start another argument.

"Do you wish me dead as well Yoichi?" Hisashi questions casually watching his brother look gobsmacked. Whatever statement his brother had cooked up in his mind suddenly screeched to a halt. How adorable.

"Stop asking me that," Yoichi mutters as clenches at the bed sheets. "That is NOT related to anything we are talking about! Stop trying to act like some victim!"

Ha! A victim? He's many things but he knows more than anyone he is no one's victim maybe in his youth but he has since gone past that.

"Oh you misunderstand Yoichi," he purrs as he reaches out and grabs his little brother's face with his injured arm. Earning a hiss as he forces the younger male's head to look up at him to make it clear to look at him. To stop turning his head away and running from him and truly face him.

"I just want to know how far gone your mind has went. Heroes aren't supposed to be murderers you know but everyone has killed. No one hands are clean," he speaks with clarity as his free hand tucks some of his hair back behind his ear. Before he taps the others heads almost mockingly, "Now tell me... How would you have helped people? I'm curious if you ever had any ideas or you were just content in telling me I'm wrong, hero?"

He couldn't help but mock the young man as can still recall the others attempting to help with no ideas or anything. Yet more than content to snap or call him out on doing what he thinks is best all by himself. The very man who has been trying to take care of Yoichi despite everything.

"I-" Yoichi seemed to be trying to think of an answer. Something that likely would somehow convince Hisashi he was wrong. But maybe because of the state he was in nothing seemed to come out as frustration showed in his brother's eyes. But Hisashi wasn't at all done with this conversation.

Does he think he can allow him to wiggle out of this suddenly acting docile now when they are having such a pleasant 'chat'?

"Answer me," he sneers as he tightens his grip on his brother's faces watching him wince in pain. Here he was giving him a chance to show him the errors of his ways to actually tell him why he was wrong. "What would you do if men you thought you could trust betray you? If the government wished you dead or rather to turn you into some helpless experiment? You aren't an idiot, you've seen how people treated us so tell me YOUR big idea? Or... Would you have rather been some pathetic bystander?"

Yoichi's mouth still held his blood and seemed to have difficulties speaking despite his attempts. So Hisashi decided to grant him mercy as he released his face shoving him back against the bedpost.

"Would you kill me to be a hero?" His voice was low as he stared at his brother's eyes as if waiting for him to say it. To say that after everything that had happened, he would throw his brother to the wolves. Or if really had some ideas it be nice to have some honesty for once.

"Stop it. I don't want you dead dammit," Yoichi whispers... Hisashi did not expect him to still hold onto that belief. Looking almost stunned as didn't detect any lie despite everything that had been done. His brother... Truly was an enigma.

He isn't even sure if it's Stockholm or weirdly genuine. The way his brother had tears in his eyes was puzzling after everything he had done yet had strength in those words. To make it clear that he didn't wish his big brother dead despite how much of a monster he was.

"How can you think that and yet not join me. You make no sense," he sighs wondering if isolation has truly messed up his brother's mind he definitely needs to talk to the doctor. Moving his hands into his coat to take out the bag of food. Watching his little brother's eyes dilate with fear at the sight.

"I wonder how long before that changes," Hisashi speaks as he pins his little brother down as he smiles down at his little brother. Coming to enjoy making sure his little brother eats and stays alive, "It is time to eat, my hero."

He speaks mockingly as he continues this cycle and the guilt he has is slowly disappearing. It was all he could do to keep his little brother alive able to see his brother's will is weakening.

Soon they will be a family again.

[solrika]

Inspired by the suggestion of @astralalmighty on the "possible reveals" post:

Zeb hates just sitting. He knows it's supposed to be an easy mission. He knows. It's something they've pulled off countless times before: put Kallus in yet another Imperial disguise, let him saunter into a base, and wait until he saunters right back out with a stick of stolen data. And yet, here Zeb is, anxiously tapping his claws against his bo-rifle as if this is the first time he's ever run an op.

It's reasonable to worry, he tells himself. Even though Kanan and Ezra hold the award for the most dramatic upsets, everyone on the Ghost has a tendency to wander into trouble. Kallus, as much as he'd like to insist otherwise, is no exception.

So when the commlink clicks on, and Kallus announces, "We've got a problem," Zeb isn't exactly surprised.

"Someone noticed me," Kallus continues, breath labored like he's running. "Another ISB agent."

Panic makes Zeb's hackles bristle, and he's upright before he's even aware of rolling to his feet. "I'm coming--"

"No! I can handle myself."

Faintly, almost lost under the commlink crackle, Zeb hears, "--not escaping your leash this time, Hound--"

--and then louder, Kallus snarling, "Oh, fuck off, Forty-seven!"

"Kal--"

"Stand down," Kallus snaps back. "I'm not letting you get caught by the Empire today." The connection breaks in a wash of static.

Zeb growls in frustration, tail curling tight. On one hand, he's seen Kallus fight, and knows that the man's far from defenseless. On the other--on the other, another ISB agent is a far cry from a hapless stormtrooper or an over-eager Jedi padawan. And Kallus has been off, lately. Sleeping longer, moving slower.

What decides Zeb, gets him moving towards the base, is the memory of their last spar. Usually, they're fairly evenly matched. This time, Kallus had gone down early, and gone down hard. It's not normal. And if he's not feeling right today, either--

--well. Whatever Kallus feels today, he's getting Zeb anyway.

This is a newer base, built into the shell of the local government's occupied council hall. Imperial architecture tends towards slick surfaces; it's a relief to have a multitude of carved handholds instead. All Zeb has to do is wait for a patrol to pass, scale the wall, and break in through a window.

He might not have any Jedi mind tricks, but he can stay unnoticeable if the situation calls for it. Especially in a place with vaulted ceilings covered with yet more of those wonderful handholds. Non-climbing species rarely look up.

The faint smell of human blood makes Zeb's lips curl back from his fangs. If that piece of banthashit has hurt Kallus--

Calm down, he tells himself, before he does something stupid like drop to the floor and start running. It could just be from the medbay.

More reliable than blood-scent is the whiff he catches of Kallus himself, tainted with echoes of anxious sweat. It leads him off from the main halls, a mixed blessing. There are no patrols, but the ceilings lower, taking away his hiding place.

Kallus' trail is getting stronger, but so is the blood-scent. Zeb can't help flexing his claws, wishing he had that ISB agent--what was it Kallus called him? Forty seven?--in his grip. It leads him into what used to be the building's administrative offices.

Here, he starts to see signs of a struggle--a scuff on the floor, a dent in the drywall, blood smeared on a statue's bust as if someone got their head knocked against it. Zeb's not a betting man, but he'd put credits on the mess being from one of Kallus' attempts at escape. Even slow and sleepy, their Fulcrum can be downright nasty when cornered.

Evidence of a fight aside, Kallus still hasn't checked in.

Every breath Zeb takes is tinged with copper.

"Karabast," he mutters, and giving up on caution, breaks into a run.

His nose leads him up a flight of stairs to another set of offices, and from there to the one at the end of the hall. Another time, he'd take notice of how it's the biggest, fanciest door, and scoff at ISB arrogance. Now, Zeb simply kicks it in.

And stops, his hindbrain automatically putting on the breaks at the sound of a guttural, inhuman snarl.

His eyes catch up to his ears.

He knows that form crouched over the ISB agent. He knows the shape of those eyes going wide in surprise, but he's never seen them like this--inky, encompassing black, like the space between stars in hyperspace.

"Uh," says Kallus, snarl dying in his throat. He sits back on his heels, swipes at the blood covering his lips and dripping down his chin. It's incredibly ineffective.

"When did you get those teeth?" Zeb says, dumbly.

"Uh," Kallus repeats. He's got no pupils, but Zeb has a feeling his eyes are darting to the side anyways, looking for words. His guilty grimace is the same, even with the addition of four needle-sharp fangs. "I can explain?"

[spockandawe]

Okay, I think I found what I really wanted to root out with Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu and the physicality of their book relationship.

Because I will argue for days that Wen Kexing is terribly touch-starved, especially at the beginning of the book. For eight years, as the Valley Master, he’s only allowed Gu Xiang within a meter of him. They have a fairly casual relationship, but they straddle an awkward line between family and master/servant, and as the Ghost Valley Master? Everyone in Ghost Valley, including Gu Xiang, is at least a little frightened of him. He’s affection-starved as much as he is touch-starved, and having one person who cares more than she’s frightened isn’t really enough to overcome that degree of isolation. When a servant woman is combing his hair and accidentally hits a snag, she begs for her life, and his first reaction is to ask if someone forced her to wait on him. He’s been the Valley Master since he was a very young adult, and he’s been in Ghost Valley since he was a child.

And it’s so interesting to me that a lot of cnovels really emphasize that when the leads are in a relationship, it’s their first relationship, and they never wanted anyone else, but Wen Kexing (and jing beiyuan in lord seventh, which is an interesting parallel) really directly subvert that. Gu Xiang almost immediately remarks that Wen Kexing spends plenty of nights with male courtesans, and partway through the book, Wen Kexing uses a handkerchief from a famous courtesan to treat Zhou Zishu’s injury. He left the valley and entered the human world, and immediately threw himself into the arms of other men.

And Zhou Zishu, I would say, is also touch starved and affection starved, but is coping differently from Wen Kexing. No matter how strained and/or political his relationships with the Emperor and the government are, and even though he took charge of the Four Seasons Manor at... fifteen, iirc, he did have at least one close, affectionate (for a zhou zishu value of affectionate), trusting relationship, with Liang Jiuxiao. And where Wen Kexing starts the book with a comfortable relationship with Gu Xiang, Zhou Zishu starts the book knowing that his shidi is dead, and in Lord Seventh, we see the ways that he failed and/or “failed” Liang Jiuxiao, with Jiang Xue, and with staying at his post during the final battle instead of rushing off and trying to find his shidi, and it working out... not well. And I think it’s fascinating that unlike Wen Kexing, when he leaves Tian Chuang to reenter the human world, he’s content to be almost completely solitary, and focuses his attention on seeing the sights and drinking good wine.

A really interesting parallel to me is in the Ye Baiyi extra, where he mentions that it’s only human nature to crave food and sex, and he’s too old to care about sex, so food it is. Because that’s not a thought he ever shares with the other characters, but it’s very interesting to me that in the novel, in that first burst of enjoying their freedom, Wen Kexing is so focused on physical intimacy, first with courtesans, and then with Zhou Zishu, while Zhou Zishu is much more focused on physical pleasure must less dependent on other humans, like sightseeing and wine.

But once Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu are in action together, and once Wen Kexing definitively gets invested in Zhou Zishu, the physical progression of the relationship is really interesting to me. Wen Kexing gets very handsy and very forward, very quickly. Zhou Zishu tends to either endure or push him away, depending on the situation, but compared to something like, say, svsss, there’s much less ‘but i’m not gay though’ and much more generalized irritation until he (much more slowly) gets invested in return. 

And I probably would have brushed it away except for that one scene where they were about to do it, and get interrupted by the Scorpion King. First, this line, which makes it absolutely clear that as much as Zhou Zishu had given up on living a long, normal human life, Wen Kexing was in exactly the same position. Now, seeing Zhou Zishu potentially get a new lease on life, he’s forced to reckon with the idea that it might be possible for him to live on in the same way, which casts a whole new light on how casually he slept around with courtesans and propositioned Zhou Zishu earlier in the story, versus where he stands now.

They were both lone wolves who had been caught in hunters’ traps, struggling with all of their strength to free themselves to no avail, and thus, were willing to gnaw their own legs off without mercy.

[Wen Kexing] hadn’t been able to help following him, from watching him. Then a revelation had dawned— He’d realized, for the first time, that if Zhou Zishu could live like this, was it also a possible for him to live like this?

And then when Wen Kexing starts to catch a fresh round of feelings, Zhou Zishu’s response says volumes about his prior reactions whenever Wen Kexing got forward with him.

“A-Xu, sleep with me once. This way, we’ll keep each other in our hearts. You won’t die so easily then, and neither will I. What do you think?”

He said it jokingly, yet Zhou Zishu did not reply, only looked at him oddly. A while later, he finally asked, “Are you truly sincere about this?”

Wen Kexing laughed, his body tilting towards Zhou Zishu. He spoke, nearly against Zhou Zishu’s lips, “Can’t you tell if I’m sincere or not?”

Stunned, Zhou Zishu paused, then said in a low voice, “I… truly can’t tell. I haven’t experienced many instances of sincerity over the course of my life, and can’t identify it. Are you?”

Wen Kexing's fingers drifted up his shoulder, and tugged his hair loose. Dark hair cascaded down, making the tough man before his eyes look a few degrees more fragile in an instant. He dropped his cheeky grin, and in a soft voice, filled with momentous certainty, said, "I am."

Wen Kexing is most starved for touch, while Zhou Zishu is most starved for sincerity. Zhou Zishu was up to his neck in court politics in Lord Seventh, where a major focus of the story is about how sure, the Crown Prince may be deeply in love, but he’s the future Emperor, and ultimately, his feelings land way down the priority list. Up until this point in the story, with Wen Kexing waxing eloquent about how pretty Zhou Zishu must be, and calling it ‘mariticide’ when Zhou Zishu hits him, and being like ‘no no let’s hear the man out’ when the Scorpion King wants them to put on a sexy show for him, Zhou Zishu hasn’t been able to tell whether  Wen Kexing means it. 

I love me a story where the leads are terrible communicators and it causes them much Suffering, but this is a really tasty variant that I don’t feel like I see that often. Their hungers are so similar, but just disjoint enough that they can’t understand each other’s reservations. For a soulmates story like this, it’s just the right kind of tension to make the relationship work extra well for me. They’re in sync about this, as they are about so many things, with just enough of an offset that they’re both left ever so slightly uncertain, and it isn’t until they trust each other enough to ask a question as plain as ‘are you truly sincere about this?’ that they’re finally able to close the gap and reach that understanding with each other. 

[aja154ever]

BSD STAGE Dead Apple Spoilers

Mainly a report on the additional scenes or scenes that hugely differ from the movie

PLS DO NOT REPOST AND SPREAD IRRESPONSIBLY

Tag spoiler posts, Credit as necessary 

All photos come from the official press release

Please read these points before proceeding! ↓ ↓ ↓

Summary of the BSD Stage Dead Apple Synopsis

Under the cut for Spoilers!

▼Beginning

The play starts with Atsushi looking for Dazai (as tasked by Kunikida to attend the ADA mtg) Differing from the movie, he doesn't find him. 

Atsushi meets Shibusawa on the street instead when Shibusawa saved an elderly crossing the street, making him think that Shibusawa is a kind person.

Atsushi thinks that they have met somewhere before but can't remember it exactly.

Kyouka then meets Atsushi about the Ability Users Suicide Case.

▼Akutagawa pursues Shibusawa

Chuuya and Akutagawa are talking on the phone. Akutagawa is tasked to pursue Shibusawa as the perpetrator of the Dragon Head Conflict. 

However, Akutagawa was physically attacked by Dazai from behind - he snapped Aku’s neck, then stepped on him - causing him to lose consciousness (though he recognizes Dazai before passing out).

Dazai then comes with Shibusawa.

▼Chuuya and Akutagawa scene

The day when Dazai took Akutagawa to the Port Mafia is shown. Akutagawa wakes up from the dream and remembers Dazai attacked him.

An Ability user suddenly comes out of nowhere. Akutagawa fights him and realizes that he can't use Rashomon.

Chuuya comes to save him. Apparently, it's an Ability that got separated from its user.

Chuuya then explains Shibusawa's Ability and says that the mist engulfing Yokohama is actually the breath of a dragon.

Akutagawa then asks why Chuuya's Ability doesn't separate from him.

Chuuya answers that his Ability is quite special and isn't something small that can be taken easily by this fog. And if his Ability happens to separate from him, it will be the end of Yokohama.

Chuuya gives Akutagawa a new mission - to kill Dazai, because he's the one who took Shibusawa to Yokohama.

Akutagawa laughs, saying that he doesn't believe that because the Dazai now wants peace in Yokohama.

Chuuya laughs at him. He says that he's known Dazai for 7 years and were once partners so he knows Dazai - he knows that no one can tell what Dazai is thinking. There's a monster inside Dazai that no one can understand.

Aku claims that he can understand Dazai so Chuuya asks him why Dazai left the Mafia, but Aku couldn't answer. Chuuya says that he doesn't care if Aku looks up to Dazai but as for him, he's never looked up to Dazai even once. He then tells him to his face that Aku going all "Dazai-san, Dazai-san" and accepting everything he says - is probably the reason why Dazai doesn't approve of him.

Aku gets mad and attacks him to no avail. Chuuya taunts him further saying that if he doesn't do something about this mist, he'll remain weak.

Rashomon appears in the background. Chuuya says that Rashomon is just looking at him and not attacking him as if putting Aku to a test.

Chuuya says that without his Ability, Aku can never land a single punch at him.

Aku accepts the mission and says that he will beat Chuuya right after.

▼White Trio at Mukurotoride

Dazai walks to the center. There's a voice-over of Oda when he told Dazai that the good or bad side doesn't make much difference to him.

Shibusawa arrives.

Dazai says he's happy working with him.

Fyodor arrives saying that Shibusawa shouldn't believe Dazai. (Fyodor does a mini violin performance, talk about grand entrance lol)

It seems that Dazai didn't know beforehand that Fyodor is part of the plan.

Fyodor says that he's just a rat on the side that will help a bit.

Dazai realizes that Fyodor's role is to keep him in check.

Shibusawa says that he can actually accomplish all his plans on his own without them, but it would be boring.

Dazai agrees that it indeed wouldn't be boring because no one knows who will betray who.

▼Atsushi, Aku, Kyouka in the Mafia passage

Atsushi argues with Aku on the way, saying things that it's his fault that Kyouka suffered in the Mafia. He told them that he should never come close to Kyouka ever and talk as if he knows her.

Aku then retorts back asking Atsushi what he actually knows about Kyouka.

Atsushi says that he knows a lot stating things like Kyouka likes tofu and bunnies, and hates lightning.

Aku asks him about her past but Atsushi wasn't able to answer. Aku narrates that Kyouka's parents were killed by Demon Snow and she was picked up by the Mafia, and was then trained by a Port Mafia Executive known as the best Assassin in the world (in reference to Verlaine).

Aku then adds that he also knows that Kyouka hates flies and dogs, and likes ghosts and hydrangeas. He knows more about Kyouka so it's his win.

Unable to come up with other things about Kyouka, Atsushi resorts to bickering.

Atsushi: You're a sore loser!

Aku: Orphanage castaway!

Sushi, visibly hurt from Aku's comeback: You don't change clothes!

Aku, visibly hurt from Sushi's comeback:  I wash it every time!

Sushi: Huh? Do you also wear that when sleeping?

Aku: I'm gonna kill you!

They were then stopped by Kyouka.

Before they go out of the passageway, Kyouka attempts to check if her phone can connect somewhere. 

Aku gently stops her telling her that that phone is the one used to control her Ability and would be bad if it connects. 

Kyouka says that there's nothing to worry about because there's no signal. 

Kyouka asks him if Aku tried the Mafia's communication device and Aku says that it can't connect too.

(Note: When Aku talks to Kyouka his voice is calm and softer than usual)

Atsushi, feeling out of place, silently watches them from the side. "You two, you actually get along well, huh..." 

▼Demon Snow Battle

The trio go back outside the streets and comes to face Demon Snow. They ran back to the Mafia passageway but Demon Snow just follows them and slices the door. Byakko then also appears.

Kyouka's phone rings. When she answers it, the scene flashbacks to the time when her parents died (same scene with the manga) with her mom explaining what truly happened, and then advises Kyouka how to control Demon Snow.

They were able to beat Demon Snow after and the Ability goes back to Kyouka.

▼More Aku, Atsushi, and Kyouka

Aku, Atsushi, and Kyouka continue to walk in the mist-covered street. Atsushi suggests to Kyouka that they should hold hands so they don't get separated. Kyouka agreed and held out her hand, but then asked Atsushi about Aku.

Sushi: Eh?

Kyouka:

Sushi: Eh?

Kyouka: Should I hold his hand?

Sushi: No way!

Kyouka: Then you should hold his hand

Sushi: Ehhhh, t-there's no way I would... i-it's Akutagawa...

Kyouka:

Sushi: Aahh, there are no other hands in here so fine!

Atsushi settles to offer the dangling part of his belt for Aku to hold on to (lol he's pointing his ass in the process because the belt is on his back like a tail). Aku reaches for it, but was taken away by Rashomon before Atsushi and Kyouka can see him

▼Aku vs Rashomon Battle

Aku uses his gun to fight against Rashomon. Just when he thought he won, he is then caught and pierced by Rashomon. At first Aku thought that Rashomon is fighting him to test if he's worth it as Rashomon's "owner", but then realized that Rashomon is actually filled with wrath - Aku's wrath towards his weak self.

Scenes flashback to Chuuya telling Aku why Dazai doesn't approve of him, of Atsushi telling him that he lost against him and is still not recognized by Dazai, and of Dazai telling him that his new subordinate is better and he doesn't need Aku.

Aku makes Rashomon remember all these, of what they went through, of what they are mad about, of what they both desire. If Aku doesn't beat Rashomon then he will be a part of Shibusawa's collection and will never get what they desire.

Before Rashomon ends Aku, he sets the bomb off and beats him eventually.

Aku returns to Atsushi and Kyouka thereafter, and Atsushi was surprised to see him covered in bruises.

▼White Trio Betrayal Scene

Fyodor sees Dazai suspiciously trying to enter the Draconia room. They went inside after Fyodor tells him that Shibusawa is not there. Dazai reveals his motives to Fyodor, and Fyodor hands him the crystals. Before Dazai can touch them Shibusawa stabs him from behind. Dazai dies. (scenes are almost the same as the movie)

After Dazai dies, Shibusawa also kills Fyodor, grabbing him on the top of his head, lifting him up, and then breaking his neck.

Shibusawa laughs (like a villain) saying that his plans succeeded.

▼More Aku, Atsushi, and Kyouka

Aku, Atsushi, and Kyouka are riding an elevator, standing side by side. Because the ride is taking quite long, Atsushi tries to make small talk to relieve the awkward atmosphere.

Sushi: Your Ability has returned to you, right? How does it feel?

Aku: None of your business.

*silence*

Sushi: Looking from this angle, your nose looks nice. (literally "you have a high-bridged nose" used as a compliment in Jp)

*silence*

Sushi: Aahh, with this three the talk is going nowhere..

Kyouka: *tries to narrate Momotaro (a popular Jp folklore)*

Sushi: Ah, I'm sorry Kyouka-chan, I didn't mean to force you

▼Chuuya at the Special Ability Dept

Chuuya arrives at the Special Ability Department Office. He is stopped by the guards but Chuuya beats them all (fight scenes were shown).

Chuuya arrives at the main office, but Ango is only showing up in the scene via a video screen. Tsujimura is in the office btw.

Chuuya and Ango talk about the government's involvement with Shibusawa (same with the movie).

Chuuya threatens Ango that he will kill the people in the office if Ango doesn't tell him about the case of Shibusawa now.

▼White Trio

Shibusawa takes Dazai's Ability crystal, but realizes that it is not the one he's been looking for.

Fyodor suddenly appears from his back, shooting Shibusawa with a gun.

Apparently, the one Shibusawa killed earlier was not Fyodor himself, but his separated Ability.

Fyodor then kills Shibusawa with a knife, making him remember his death (same with the movie).

▼Dragon Appears

Fyodor does his poetry speech about the dragon lol

The dragon appears as animation in the background.

Deadly Drive plays as bg music after!

Ango asks Chuuya to fight the dragon, believing that only his Ability can do it just as when they fought Guivre in the past.

Chuuya complains that the government just always does nothing but order people around while not getting their hands dirty.

He accepts the mission and asks Ango's life in return.

▼Chuuya vs Dragon

Plane scene with Tsujimura is almost the same as the movie. Chuuya throws his gloves and activates Corruption.

This scene involves his actor Uechan flying in a harness, where he did flips a few times. On his background is an animation of the levitated rubbles and the building he used to throw at the dragon.

Bless Uechan's throat for all the screaming

▼Soukoku scene

Chuuya shouts Dazai's name, and punches him waking him up. Dazai touches his cheek to deactivate Corruption. (Same lines with the movie, yes Dazai is still Snow White)

Chuuya asks him to let go but Dazai refuses saying that the place they are in is where the mist is the most concentrated and Arahabaki will end up separating from him.

▼Atsushi reflection with Byakko

Atsushi realizes that the orphanage director must have known that he killed Shibusawa, but wondered why he never told him.

The orphanage director appears at the end saying that he hid the truth from Atsushi because he thought Atsushi wouldn't be able to accept it and would be crushed (mentally) once he knew about himself.

▼Aftermath

Bokura plays in the bg

Aku leaves

Dazai arrives saying that Atsushi was saved because of them

Atsushi butts in saying that Dazai was the one who did

(same lines with the movie)

After Atsushi says the "more beautiful" line, Oda's voice-over plays when he told Dazai to go to the side that saves people because that's a little bit more beautiful.

▼Aftermath Chuuya

Ango calls Chuuya saying that the battle is finished thanks to them, and now he's ready to give his life in return.

Chuuya just laughs at him saying that his life isn't enough to pay for this. He also tells him that he understands that Ango was just a small fry in the government six years ago so wasn't able to do anything about the Shibusawa case. Ango thanks him but still tries to insist but Chuuya hangs up.

Akutagawa shows up, but he doesn't bow at Chuuya (unlike in the movie) and just continues walking after Chuuya told him that Dazai is alive. Chuuya calls him to lend his shoulder because he can't move and gestures him to come closer.

Aku does and Chuuya laughs at how unwilling he looks and asks if Aku is still mad that Chuuya called him weak. Aku says that he's not bothered at all.

Chuuya tells him that he shouldn't worry because they're both included in Dazai's plans, which means that Dazai thinks that they are essential in beating Shibusawa.

Aku remains silent. Chuuya then tells him that as Dazai's ex-partner, he's gonna say it - that Dazai approves of Aku. At the very least, Chuuya does approve of him too.

Aku just says that he's nothing compared to Chuuya.

▼Days after

Atsushi and Kyouka are back at the Agency, where they wave off to everyone as they go on a new mission.

Voice-overs of the ADA stage play cast were played sending them off.

Tanizaki: Take care!

Naomi: Stay safe!

Kunikida: Don't forget your report after.

Ranpo: Get me sweets on your way home!

Yosano: If possible, go back here with injuries, okay?

Kenji: Let's eat some gyudon later!

Fukuzawa: Atsushi, Kyouka, take care and come back safely.

▼Closing

Chuuya talks to Mori on the phone, reporting that the mission has been accomplished. 

However, he gets instructed to do the send-off or the farewell greeting to the fans on the stage.

Chuuya, angrily to the audience: What are you looking at, huh? 

Send-off? *takes a sit elegantly and stares at the crowd*

Ugh, okay,, *stands up*

Be careful not to be engulfed by the mist when you go home, okay? See ya.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Please support the official accounts and releases as much as possible!

I’m no longer active on tumblr nowadays, so you may follow me on twitter instead @harukaja15

My translations on tumblr are compiled under the tag #bsd translation and #my works

[heavenbarnes]

nothing to lose

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader (18+)

Warnings/Contains: swearing, semi!sub bucky, alcohol mention, stripping (male), oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected sex (please use a condom), spanking, dirty talk

Word Count: 3.5k

I’m trying to get back into writing, believe you me, so please appreciate these lil breadcrumbs I’ll try to keep dropping! In the meantime, I love you all x

Bucky had a way about him when he wanted something from you. He had a turn up in comfy clothes, wine bottle in hand way about him. It was a way that you saw right through, but a way nonetheless. The tricky part was deciphering what he wanted.

Now Bucky wanted a lot of things, he wanted a holiday somewhere warm, he wanted to see Phoebe Cates in Fast Times for the first time again, and he wanted...

How do you put it? He wanted...

You opened the front door to him, in his sweatpants and half-up hair glory, a buttery Chardonnay in his right hand. You immediately shot him a look that either asked “what have you done?” or “what do you need?” Objecting that it was just a friendly house call, he came inside and that’s where you ended up.

Curling in the corner of your couch, knees bent in front of you as your cheeks kept a steady warmth fed by the wine. Bucky sat in front of you, legs spread and taking up room, hands gesturing as he continued his story about a time you’d never understand.

“Wait, you just let this slide?” You questioned, shooting him a puzzled glance.

“You have to remember this is the forties,” He jumped up a bit. “Anyways so!”

Forgetting this meant he had an ulterior motive, you melted into the cushions and into his voice as he kept you giggling as the hours passed. It wasn’t until he spouted stupid ideas like truth or dare that you bit back at him, bringing it round to the beginning.

“Fine, fine, pick truth!” He was in the midst of reminding you that wasn’t how the game went but you managed to have him concede with a grumble of “okay, I pick truth.”

“Why did you come here tonight with the ingredients to butter me up?”

His mouth dropped in surprise, a faux surprise that reminded you Bucky had never really been good at lying. Through stutters he got out his words, “I’ve no idea what you mean!”

“Wine, lush stories from before my time, looking lovely and cuddly?”

“You think I look lovely-“

“Bucky!”

He sighed, leaning forward and taking your glass (much to your protest) and placing it with his on the coffee table. He turned back to you, hands bracing your knees at the bend and looking into your eyes. Whatever he wanted, he wanted it bad, and he was going to make your life hell till he got it.

“Now, you’ve got to promise not to shoot this out of the sky like always!”

And there it was, what you knew in the back of your mind he was here to ask for. The same thing he always asked for when it got late and he got needy and wine dropped your reserves. The cheek of him, huh?

“James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes,” The government name flew off your lips as you stared back at him. “Tell me you did not come all this way to ask for some pussy.”

He wasn’t sure which winded him quicker, the full name and the way it sounded coming off your lips in such a clipped tone, or the fact you said pussy and he needed to hear you say it about a hundred more times. He quickly cleared his mind, getting back to the subject at hand, the one he was determined on.

“Don’t make me sound like a bitch, honey,” he grumbled. “You make me sound like I can’t get any!”

“You can get any, you could walk out onto my street and find any number of people that’d be willing to give it up to you!”

His eyelids dropped, scooting further towards you and gripping your knees harder. It was his turn to call you by your full name, sounding unfairly delicious coming from him. “You know I don’t want just anyone.”

“You know that this,” you flicked your hand back and forth between you two. “This would be detrimental, we work together, we see each other every day.”

“And that is the killer! I see you walking around and kicking ass and looking like everything I ever dreamed of, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.”

You couldn’t help the way your lip rose in a smirk. You knew that Bucky had felt this way about you ever since you helped Sam and Steve track him down. He saw you catch a bullet midair and throw it back, he knew from then he was fucked.

“By the way,” he tacked on the end. “I didn’t come all this way to beg for pussy, I actually enjoy your company and I knew you’d enjoy mine.”

Raising your brows in a “oh, is that right?”, you nodded slowly as your hands came to rest on top of his. “Now, I never said beg, but if that’s what you want to do then maybe we’re talking.”

Bucky’s eyes had fallen out of the early onset of embarrassment, but your words had perked them right up again. He dropped a brow and raised one, urging you to go on. The corners of your lips picked up as everything ticked over in your brain.

Let’s check all the cards on the table, Bucky was unexplainably beautiful, not just in his god-like features but he was right when he said you enjoyed his company. Every time you caught his eyes holding your figure too long, it ignited that little flame burning in you. Lying and hypocrisy weren’t a good look, so there was no use denying that he wasn’t on your mind on lonely nights with only your fingers for company.

“If you want it as bad as you say you do, are you going to work for it?”

Bucky turned closer towards you as you spoke, almost as if he’s unsure of what he was hearing. Your expression gave him a hurry up, until he was clearing his throat. “Of course, yeah of course.”

You brought one of your feet back, pressing the ball of it against Bucky’s thigh and pushing him gently. He quickly got the message and shifted down a bit. Extending your leg, you were able to lay your foot against the crotch of his pants. His eyes moved from his lap before shooting back to you.

“You’ll do whatever I say? You’ll be good and give me what I want?” Pressing your foot down gently, you began to rub it against him as you spoke.

Bucky’s breath caught right in his throat, right hand coming to gently grasp your ankle as you worked against him. “That’s always been it, whatever you want from me, you can have.”

And he had to have been telling the truth, the way you could feel him hardening under the ball of your foot was no lie. Bucky’s head fell back to rest against the top of the couch, eyes closing gently and mouth slightly parting as his fingers drifted up to massage your leg.

His hips stuttered ever so slightly, only the smallest bit and you could’ve missed it if you weren’t so invested with how delicious he looked just then. He was getting harder by the second, pants tightening as you saw the outline of him showing prominently in font of you.

Of course he had a huge dick, of course.

“You want pussy?” You hummed, sliding your foot back and tucking your legs to the side. “You want to eat mine?”

His eyes lit up like he’d been given the world, tongue dipping out against his lower lip and nodding slowly. You turned to place your feet on the floor, beckoning him up and in front of you with one finger. Your mouth curled into an obviously devious smile.

“Strip.”

Bucky was never and will never be a stupid man, he was not impartial to light embarrassment to get what he wants (in fact, it sometimes made him hard). To be honest, you could’ve told Bucky to get starkers on the balcony with the city watching and he would’ve done it, provided he got you in the end.

So there was no qualms and he was pushing off of your knee and stepping into the space between your thighs. Pulling the band from his hair, the strands fell into his face before he brushed them back with a wide span of his hand.

His shirt was the next to go, landing behind him and taught muscles on display. Only natural that your lower lip got tugged between your teeth, until Bucky lent forward and took it between his fingers. He kept leaning in, running his thumb down your lower lip until you were pouting for him.

He was moments away from you, to the point where you each could feel the breath of the other ghosting across your skin. He bridged the infinitesimal gap between you both and lay his lips on yours, tongue immediately finding its way past your teeth.

Of course he was a great kisser, of course.

You fought your inner monologue just enough to place your palms flat on Bucky’s chest and push him back to standing height. “I wanna’ see the rest.”

And he could never deny that girlish smile, whether you were asking him to bring you a drink or rub your back or fetch something off the top shelf. So the way his fingers undid the tie of his sweats, poking into the waistband to draw them down his hearty thighs, told nothing different.

Your teeth gritted together, corners of your mouth dying to quirk up and give yourself away. He just looked so good. Those black briefs were straining, the outline was right there, you almost had it but you held it back.

You wanted to see Bucky on his best behavior.

Rolling the band of his boxers down, your breath caught in your chest. It was a slow descent into insanity as he drew it out and drew it out. You knew it had nothing to do with nerves, everything to do with making you suffer the same way he had. 

But soon, they too hit the floor. This time you were pouting without his help.

This man was from another planet, he had to be. He was cut from a cloth that was woven at the hands of God’s and never to be replicated. All that and he was standing in your living room ready to do whatever you asked.

“Good boy.”

You tried your luck and to your reward, Bucky’s eyes lit up like Roman candles (think church, not fireworks), knees buckling slightly in the twinge of excitement that coursed around him and kissed his skin.

He took his own lead, stepping towards you and tucking his fingers around your bottoms to draw them off. You let him, no use arguing when he was doing exactly what you wanted without even having to say it. You even want as far as lifting your hips for him so he could toss your clothes to land with his.

Bucky’s knees hit the floor in front of you, shuffling in and hooking his arms under your thighs, resting them over his shoulders. His eyes were firmly fixed on where you were softest, wettest, where his mind would always wander on cold nights.

He gently flickered his gaze to you, a look that asked permission.

“Go ‘head.”

And his lips were deathly soft against your thighs, and he could say the same about your skin. He could smell you, so close and so mouthwatering that he was conjuring all his untapped strength to not go wild right at the moment.

Bucky had to remind himself he was a good boy.

Lips coasting their way closer he very gently pressed a kiss to your clit, tongue dipping to roll against it as he sucked in the same motion. Immediately a shiver ran the length of your body, thighs tensing against his shoulders.

Buck’s fingers grasped the muscle of your thighs, massaging to loosen them as his mouth continued to work against you. Your hips rolled against his face, back raising off the couch the mouth his lips suckled your sensitive skin.

The back of your brain was yelling at you, asking why you’d taken this long to let him feel this good kneeling at your feet. Part of it was the fun, the thrill of the chase? Watch him squirm a little bit.

Stubble grazed against you with every minuscule motion he made, the tender burn only heightening your sense. You felt your body chase him, still raising off the couch to follow wherever he went.

You watched the movement of his right arm, slow and steady as your eyes followed it down to the wrist. Fingers grasping his length as he only slightly twisted his grasp around it, hips gently cantering into his own touch.

“God damn, Bucky.” You cooed, hand threaded through his hair and tugging slightly.

He only hummed, a rumble that fed straight into you and the way your legs were closing around his head. His tongue still flittered across you, forcing your eyes shut and incoherent cries to fly off your tongue.

And when your orgasm finally hit you, you were trying your hardest to pull back, but that grip he had on you was locked steady. His mouth was pressed to you, determined to work you through the tide of pressure that was breaking over you.

Your eyes rolling back, heels digging into his shoulder blades, his name becoming the only cry you could remember. He pulled back, chin glistening and hand still steadily tugging at himself, smile reflecting your own hazy expression.

“I was thinking,” You started, leaning forward to tuck some hair behind his ear. “I haven’t heard a lot of begging from you.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, head leaning into your touch just slightly as the hand pleasuring himself stopped altogether. He stayed quiet, the realisation dawning on him that he’d managed a pretty sweet run.

Pulling your hand back, you stood from your spot on the couch and headed for your bedroom. You could hear Bucky shuffling behind you, clambering to his feet and following.

“Wait, wait-“

“You’ve just taken whatever you wanted.”

“But you said to go ahead-“

“Not the point, Barnes, I wanted to hear you beg.”

As you pulled your top over your head and tossed it behind you, he followed it like breadcrumbs until he snuck into your room behind you. Barely acknowledging his presence, you situated yourself against the pillows, cocking your head in his direction.

“Baby, you could just be kind and I could wreck that pretty lil’ pussy.”

Raising an eyebrow, your head recoiled as if questioning his seriousness right now. He realized that wouldn’t slide before he got onto the end of the bed, sitting back on his knees.

Palms pressed flat against his thighs, cock still hard as ever, he drew in a deep breath.

“Can I please fuck you?”

Sighing, you drew yours knees up and kept your legs pressed together, seemingly lying in wait.

“You look so fucking good, taste like heaven, like everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Drawing your finger tips against your chest gently, you listened to what more he could conjure up. His eyes narrowed, the situation ticking over in his head. Raising up he moved up the bed until his hands were on your knees, grasping them before pulling them to the side enough for him to slot between.

“Every night, all I can think about is how I need to bury myself in this hot little cunt, bury you into the mattress as you’re crying my name. Every time I see this tight ass bounce past me I just thinking about splitting it open until you’re seeing stars,”

He lent further into you, nearly nose to nose until it was your turn to go bug eyed.

“You’re fucking mean, you’re nasty and you love to torture me cause you know there isn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do to have you in my lap with your legs wrapped around me. Almost sad part is, I fucking love it, I love being teased by you and I love chasing your damn tail because I know there isn’t anyone else that’d let me do the fucking things I want to do to you.”

His hands left your knees as they came to cup your jaw, drawing you in until his lips nearly touched yours.

“So, for the love of all that is holy, let me flip you over and split you in two.”

Surging forward you locked your lips onto his and drove your tongue into his mouth, making as much purchase as you could. It was filthy, messy and spit slicked and teeth nearly clashing but it was you getting what you want.

“It’s about fucking time you grew a pair.”

“Oh, fuck you-“

Forgoing the tail end of his remark, he wrapped his arms beneath you and pulled you forward and against his chest. Mouths back and messily working together, you fought your way out of his grasp until you were straddling him.

“But you do look so good under me.”

His hand shot up to crack against your ass, sending you forward where he quickly wrestled you into swapping places. Getting you on your front and pulling your hips back until you were arched, his much smoother movements of heavy petting your backside were welcomed.

Keening into him, shaking your ass just a little to get what you want, he grasped both cheeks and spread them. You must’ve looked a sight, still wet from his mouth and just about everything else you two had done, you felt a metal finger running along the length of you.

But part of him didn’t want to wait a second longer as you felt the bed dip with him raising back up to lay his length down the split of your cheeks. Coating it nicely with your slick, you could feel it prodding against you.

As he slid himself in, his chest came to lean against your back, nestling himself within you and getting used to the snug fit.

“Fuckin’ tight, fuckin’ perfect, all mine.”

He listened for your shaky exhale before he drew back, hips lined up and slamming back into you as your arms gave out. Cheek pressed into the blankets and arms out ahead of you gripping onto whatever you could find purchase in.

Bucky found his rhythm, rolling his hips eagerly into you, sounds of skin blending with the pathetic moans he was wickedly good at forcing from you. His grip on you and the way he was living up to his word of fucking you into the mattress, your mouth was dropped open.

It was like he’d fucked all sense out of you, until incoherent little moans about “how good he felt” and “how big he was” were the only things that were swilling about in your brain. You felt remarkably proud of how long you’d kept together the facade of being in control.

“That feel good, baby? Glad you finally let me fuck you like you deserve?”

More senses of agreement tumbled out of you as you gripped the bed and gripped around him, rolling your hips back onto him to try and match his movements. One of his hands splayed between your shoulder blades while the other lay against your ass.

“So fucking mean, but I fucking love it.”

His hand came back and struck down against your ass with a delicious sting, a cry of his name sounding out of you. He massaged over the area, before slipping his hand down to rub against your clit.

“I always knew you wanted to give in,” His chest huffed as he kept powering into you. “But I liked the little game, naughty girl.”

This time has hand drew back and delivered a slap against your clit, your legs shaking against him he pushed you straight towards your end. You felt your lower half clamp right around him, your body tensing up.

“That’s a good girl, fucking come for me.”

Bucky was a good boy, but you were even better.

Doing as told, you felt your whole body come apart as you slumped forward, shaking slightly as Bucky never let up with his thrusts or his fingers. You felt the wetness against your thighs, knowing he’d well and truly fucked it out of you.

His grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you back into him and rolled his hips against you. Impossibly deep and nearly bulging out your belly, Bucky stayed deep inside you as his hips stuttered.

He held you still as he came, raw moans flooded your ears like a choir as you felt a dumbstruck smile make its way across your face. Feeling the weight of him sink onto you as you both collapsed into the bed.

Resting against his chest, tucked into your pillows, you felt him tracing patterns into your back. You tilted your head up, looking towards him with a smile.

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for coming all this way to beg for pussy.”

“Don’t fucking ruin the moment, beloved.”

[popopretty]

Storm Bringer Spoilers (9)

I finally finished the translation of the last part in the epilogue where it is explained why Verlaine was still alive and how he became after that. Verlaine and Rimbaud’s relationship is just so sad :( 

Please feel free to re-translate. Just be aware that I don’t speak English or Japanese as my native language so I may make a few mistakes here and there. Also, some meanings might be lost in indirect translation. 

...

Going back in time.

The Demonic Beast Guivre appeared in the wood. Adam blew himself up. Chuuya opened the “gate” and defeated Guivre.

Four minutes and thirty seconds after that.

The place was the site of the collapsed highway overpass. Crushed foundation materials, concrete, wires, steel frames, cylindrical forms and such were scattered and piled up like dead bodies.

On the top of that place, Verlaine was in the progress of vanishing.

He couldn’t bend the tips of his fingers. His breathing was shallow. His vision was so dark and hazy that he couldn’t even see the stars. Verlaine is nothing more than a sealed string of codes. When the singularity lifeform that acted as his main body disappeared, his heart was slowly stopping due to the life-sustaining energy being depleted.

Verlaine’s thoughts were just as shallow and slow as his breath. Even on the verge of being engulfed into the hollow of death, his heart didn’t flinch one bit, nor did it seek for anything.

So this is death, Verlaine thought in his disrupted consciousness. It is not such a big deal as I thought. No groaning in pain, no crying of regrets, no distraught with fear either. It is flat and thoroughly empty. In the first place, my life is not a life that has anything to regret at this point. It is a life that should not have been born from the beginning. I didn’t live in a way as to regret anything either.

It’s just that, I caused troubles to so many people. The French government, my assassination targets, Port Mafia, brother. In the end, I didn’t get anything, even with all of that. That only is like a stain my life’s trail, that I regret a little.

Well, whatever. As you can see, I will die soon so forgive me.

His fingers grew colder and eventually he didn’t even feel the cold anymore.

His heartbeat weakened. And after a brief spasm...

It stopped.

His heart.

A few tens of seconds passed.

Verlaine realized that he was still breathing. At the edge of his field of vision, he saw something red. He turned his eyes to that. 

A crimson red cube was passing through his chest and surrounding his heart. That thing was making his heart move.

What the hell is this? Verlaine was confused. It was not because he did not know what the crimson cube was. He was confused because that was something he knew so well.

Why is it here?

“This is the first time I saw you in such a terrible state.”

How nostalgic was that voice.

Verlaine couldn’t believe his own ears. And when the person entered his sight, he started doubting his eyes too.

“No, no...”, Verlaine spoke in a whispering voice. “This can’t be happening. You can’t possibly appear here.”

“Exactly”, the person nodded. “However, showing up in the most unlikely places, at the most unlikely times, isn’t that what a spy is?”

That was Arthur Rimbaud.

A fuzzy outer jacket. A thick scarf around his neck. A pair of earmuffs made from rabbit hair on his head. Long, black hair and somewhat gloomy eyes.

He was the person who saved Verlaine from the lab, and his partner. And the person Verlaine betrayed.

The subspace created by the crimson cube was the sign of Rimbaud’s skill. All substances inside it can be manipulated at Rimbaud’s will.

“Paul, what have you learnt in the world of spies?” Rimbaud sounded surprised as he asked.

“That if you don’t throw away your feelings, you won’t be able to complete the missions, it taught me that much. But what are missions? And what are feelings? Is that to vent out all of my hatred towards human? Or is that to get a little brother? I rushed into this without knowing clearly which one was the mission, and this is the result. If I hadn’t told brother the way to stop Guivre, I would have been able to kill off all those hateful humans.”

“Ahh... I see, you are Rimbaud’s hallucination.” Verlaine said as if he was ridiculing himself. “You are the illusion that I see on the verge of death, the death reaper my guilts are showing me. Otherwise, there is no way Rimbaud who died one year ago would appear here.”

“I’m not a hallucination, neither a reaper. I am a ghost.” Rimbaud shook his head. “I have been waiting for you, in this country.”

Verlaine stared at the other silently, as if he was trying to understand what that existence over there actually was.

“No way, there can be no ghosts.” Verlaine finally shook his head. “Not because it’s unscientific. If you were a ghost and not an illusion, you would not be saving me like this. You would definitely curse me to death.”

“Why?”

“I betrayed you, and tried to kill you.” His cold voice echoed through the night.

Rimbaud didn’t say anything, he looked back at the collapsed Verlaine with calm eyes.

“What’s with those eyes? Be mad at me more, resent me more, punch me, kick me, strangle me, Rimbaud!”, Verlaine screamed, still lying on the ground. “I shot you from the back. That’s why that explosion happened. You were caught up in it and lost your memories, then died in this foreign country not even knowing who you were. If you are a ghost, then there is only one reason that you became one. That’s your grudge towards me, isn’t that right, Rimbaud!”

“It’s the opposite.”, Rimbaud shook his head. “I waited for you because... I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what?” Verlaine frowned, not getting what he just heard.

“I wanted to help you. And I thought that I was helping.” Rimbaud leaned forward, holding his hand over Verlaine’s chest. “But what I actually gave you, was nothing more than the one-sided sympathy of a man who pretended that he understood. I can’t allow myself to just apologize. I have always been thinking about what I could give. And I finally got the answer on the verge of death. This is it.”

Under Rimbaud’s palm, the space cube grew bigger.

The thing that was at Verlaine’s chest earlier started to expand as if it wanted to shallow his whole body. Then it became huge enough to shallow both Verlaine and Rimbaud inside. That was the subspace created by Rimbaud’s skill. Inside it, Rimbaud is capable of doing anything. Except for bringing the dead back to life.

That exception seemed to be happening.

Verlaine noticed his own fingers twitching. They bent. It wasn’t an illusion. His eyes were also moving. His muddy vision gradually became clear.

“This is...”

Verlaine moved his arm. He twisted and raised his upper body up. He looked at his palm, at the back of his hand, squeezed it, then released it again. He felt his fingers being warmed up by the blood flowing in.

He tried to ask what was happening so he looked at Rimbaud who was there.

Rimbaud was not there.

He collapsed.

By Verlaine’s side.

“What is this?”, Verlaine asked in shock. “I see, you... you used your skill on yourself?”

“A method that I could use only once in life.” Rimbaud said with a faint smile on his face. “But it worked well.”

<The skill to turn humans into skills>

That was Arthur Rimbaud’s skill.

Transforming dead humans into a skilled lifeform, and using them freely inside the crimson subspace. The person who is turned will have the memories and physical capabilities of their past lives, they can even use skills. It is a skill worthy of a spy that is considered the most elite in Europe, the heresy of the heresies. 

Rimbaud used that skill on himself.

“It’s nothing to worry about. I am already dead.” Rimbaud said weakly. “What is left here is just information. But even if it is like that, I feel good. Because I could leave this to you.”

Rimbaud’s body started to glow in red. The way it glowed was familiar to Verlaine.

A redshift. (*TN: A term referring to an increase in the wavelength, and corresponding decrease in the frequency and photon energy. In astronomy, it happened when an object is moving away from us. Good luck Googling.) 

“Wait!” Verlaine who realized what was going on, reached out to the collapsed Rimbaud.

“Wait, Rimbaud. Don’t disappear!”

“Because you didn’t like my birthday present.” Rimbaud laughed apologetically.

“Just take this as a birthday present instead. Happy Birthday. I am happy you were born into this life.”

After that, the subspace contracted sharply, sucked into Verlaine’s heart and disappeared.

All that remained was the debris, and Verlaine, and the cool breeze of the night.

Verlaine walked two, three steps with the stunned look on his face. He looked around then sat down on the debris.

“Ha...hahaha.” He looked down and let out a dry laugh.

“Hey Rimbaud, you waited one year for me just to do this? For something like this?”

Verlaine knew, what Rimbaud had done.

To save him, Rimbaud had turned himself into a self-contradictory typed singularity.

Rimbaud, who had turned himself into a skill, used that skill again on his own self who was born as a result of that. Then he continued to apply that skill on his new self that was born. And by repeating this progress, he created a self-contradictory typed singularity. Then he gave that singularity to Verlaine, in place of the Demonic Beast Guivre.

Verlaine tried to stand up but he didn’t have enough strength and dropped his knees on the debris. He was weak. Perhaps, the singularity that Rimbaud created did not have an infinity output like the unlimited energy that the usual self-contradictory typed singularity emits. He could no longer use his inexhaustible gravitational skill like he did before.

But Verlaine didn’t find it particularly regrettable. 

Because he was regretting the thing that he just lost that very moment more.

“Why, Rimbaud?” Verlaine looked up to the sky. “Why did you smile at the end? I betrayed you, and you died because of that, you know?”

He knew the answer. He just didn’t want to understand.

Rimbaud, the man who freed him from Faunus and gave him the freedom to live.

Rimbaud, the man who trained him and raised him into a spy, the person who got through all the dangerous missions with him.

Rimbaud, the man who shyly handed him his birthday present.

“Why did you smile?” Verlaine spoke with a trembling voice. “If you turn yourself into a skill, you are no longer human. You will be nothing more than a piece of surface information with a human’s memories and personalities. You knew that for sure. Still why did you wait for me? Why did you have to go that far for someone like me, when you didn’t even know if I would come or not?”

Verlaine finally came to his senses.

The reason why he let Chuuya know how to defeat the Demonic Beast Guivre at that time.

He hated humans. He thought that it would be okay if everyone died. Yet, he gave out the hint to destroy Guivre. That was because he didn’t think that everyone should die, equally. 

There was only one exception.

One person worthy of affirming human beings.

“Sorry, Rimbaud.” Verlaine whispered behind his clenched teeth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to your friendship. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you when I received the birthday present. I am finally grieving the fact that you are not here anymore now...”

Verlaine said so with his trembling voice, as he sat still and looked up to the sky with his eyes closed.

He remained there for a long, long time, looking at the night sky.

...

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

...

Time pours on everything equally.

Verlaine didn’t die. After surviving with the life he got from Rimbaud, he was confined in Port Mafia’s underground shelter. That was what Verlaine wished for. There was already no place for Verlaine in the outside world. He had lost most of his gravitational skill and the only place he could escape the long and big hands of Europe was the hideout deep underground.

Also, he had no interests in the outside world. There wasn’t anyone he wanted to kill, nor anyone he wanted to meet. Apart from Rimbaud. 

And Rimbaud was no longer there.

At first, he just sat in the basement and spent all his time reading and writing poems. When he became bored with that, he started doing what Rimbaud used to do. Training the younger generation.

He hammered his assassination skills and knowledge into the Mafia’s elites in an underground training space. Gin, Izumi Kyouka, and many more.

Those mafias under his discipline all became top-class assassins in a short period of  time.

Verlaine didn’t reveal his feelings to anyone. He never told his apprentices nor the Boss the reason why he kept desiring that crippling life underground. 

When he was not training his apprentices, he just sat on his wicker chair, waiting for something. He never told anyone what he was waiting for. If he was asked persistently, he would just say “for the storm”. No-one knew what that storm was supposed to mean.

Six years later, Verlaine now has become an indispensable central figure in the Mafia, and risen to the position of one of Mafia’s five executives.

He is still sitting on his wicker chair, waiting for his storm even today.

...

[luxwritesfanfic]

Definitely Not Your Color

In true Sherlock fashion, he shows you exactly why green isn’t his color. Or, the one where reader can read auras and Sherlock is going through it at the sight of her new friend. AU!Bucky makes an appearance because I can’t live without him. Enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You were stood off to the side of the crime scene recounting your conversation with the last witness of the night. There had been yet another murder and Lestrade had requested Sherlock’s help for what seemed to be a serial killer in the making. Two murders in less than a week and Sherlock was thrilled and it was easy to tell. An array of yellows and subtle oranges surrounded him, engulfed him, as he explained how vacant Scotland Yard truly could be and how quickly he had figured out the killer’s M.O. He shined like the sun, and you swore you saw tendrils of sunlight shoot off of his fingers as he analyzed every aspect of the scene before him. All confidence, he paraded around the crime scene in a way you knew so well, pointing out things that even after working with him for months that you wouldn’t of picked up on. He was happy to be working again, to be playing, no, winning the game once more. 

You were thankful no one else saw his colors like you did. Because as sure as you were that he was what they meant when they said, “let there be light!”, you were sure that others would gravitate towards him even more until it got to a point that there was so much in between the two of you that you would only be able to see his shine from between the cracks of other people.

Pulling you out of your thoughts of Sherlock and things that you couldn’t control, you turned your head at the sound of someone’s throat clearing.

“He’s seriously brilliant.” An officer who you hadn’t recognized before stood behind you, holding his cap in his hands and drumming his fingers along the rim. He looked past you to where Sherlock and John were, a laugh slipped out from under his breath. “Makes it look so easy.”

Your lips twitched at the statement, a warmth you knew too well for your liking spreading around you. If anyone else could see you, really see you, you’d surely be figured out. Sherlock Holmes was a great man, you were sure of it. He was as intelligent as they came and as handsome as the devil, and sure— sometimes he could be rude, and maybe a little ignorant, and sometimes you really wanted to slap the smirk off of his face when playing Cluedo (Because, Sherlock, it can’t be the victim!) but you wouldn’t change him. 

They told you not to stare at the sun but you couldn’t help it. You needed to see what was really there because you refused to believe that a man who couldn’t feel a thing made the world look that vivid. You were the moth and he was the flame and if that meant dying a painful death just to bask in everything that he was, so be it. Evidently, there were worse ways to die.

Stealing one last glance like you couldn’t help yourself, you shoved your notebook and pen in your purse and made your way back to your conversation.

“He really is. You’re new, right? Lestrade mentioned he had some new guys joining the force. Can’t say you didn’t have an interesting first week.” You wanted to lighten the mood as much as you could because you knew this wasn’t an easy crime to see. You still couldn’t look at the body too long yourself without feeling the black sit heavy in your stomach.

“Don’t worry ma’am, I can handle it.” As if he read your mind, he gave you a warm smile and nodded. “My father, he, uh, he was an officer as well. Started me with the bad stuff early. Said it would give me a little more character and a lot more advantage. There’s not too much that can scare me away, I don’t think.”

You returned his smile. He was a cool blue, and it matched his eyes perfectly. It looked good on him, you decided. “Good. London needs all the help that we can get. Oh- I’m Y/N, by the way! I work with Sherlock and John sometimes. I’m not a genius or a doctor but I can take damn good notes.” And at that you both laughed, as he reassured you that the boys would have nothing to study from if it wasn’t for you. In turn it made you laugh even harder when you realized he hadn’t got the chance to see Sherlock visit his Mind Palace yet, where everything you could offer him he already had.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m James, but I hardly ever use my government if I don’t have to. Please, call me Bucky.” He reached his hand out to you and shook yours, that boyish smile never leaving his lips. From behind you, you could tell subconsciously that it had gotten significantly darker. Like a light had went out. You didn’t think enough of it to turn around and investigate it.

---

You found it was easy to talk to Bucky and you had more things in common than you could have expected. He was polite and seemed to have seriously believed that you were an integral part of the team that he needed to get to know. You appreciated his kindness and how friendly he was, and it seemed like more than anything he was grateful you were giving him a chance to belong. You couldn’t figure out why.

It just so happens that from the angle you were looking, you saw Sherlock’s shoes before you saw his face. It looked like moss had grown through the concrete and saturated him so thoroughly that you thought he wouldn’t soon be able to move. It made you uneasy how sickly the green made him look. You had never seen this color on him before.

“If I knew all you were going to do was stand around and disregard everything I say, I would have brought Molly instead. She listens. Intently.” Sherlock spat and cut his eyes at you before looking to Bucky and giving him a once over before digging in. 

“Generally, they say to try again and again if you fail. I would think that wouldn’t apply to something like the police academy. Third, no... fourth times the charm as they say?” The green fog spilled out of Sherlock’s mouth and continued to cover him, wrapping so tightly around his body that you thought he might have trouble breathing. Even though you were standing a few good feet away from him, you could feel how heavy the fog had made you, and you worried for Sherlock as it encompassed him. You almost made to reach for him because you were afraid you’d lose him under all the smoke.  

“You’re a favored drop out who still lives with his mother, no, father. That’s where the drinking problem comes from I assume? One failed relationship too many and now suddenly your calling is keeping the streets clean of the people you used to run them with. Now, I know Lestrade has horrible taste when it comes to putting together a team but tell me, how did he get so lucky as to stumble across you? It can’t be the... no wait, it is because of-“

“Sherlock!” You say exasperatedly, looking at him like he’s he’s got three heads when you can’t even see the one he’s got as it is. He is solid and dark and lost in this feeling that you can’t name and he’s not him. Well, he is him, but weighed down so much by whatever he’s trying to carry through that you can’t imagine he’s acting this hateful for no reason. You refuse to believe it.

Bucky sighed and somehow still managed to twitch his lips upwards, a ghost of the grin he wore before. “Well, Mr. Holmes, you are what they say you are. Brilliant for sure. Hell, you haven’t even spoken a word to me prior and you know my life.” You were shocked to see Bucky’s reaction, most people would of blacked out on Sherlock for an outburst like that and this one definitely warranted it. “You’re right, about all of those things. I guess I’m just trying to play the best game I can with the hand I was dealt. I’m not one for feeling sorry for myself.” He straightened up and fastened his cap back on as he caught eyes with Lestrade and returned a knowing nod. 

Turning to you, Bucky grinned as if it never phased him, like he had grown used to being talked down on. The blue never left him and that made you happy. You didn’t want him to feel bad.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I look forward to speaking with you again. Mr. Holmes.” With that, he bid you both a good night and headed towards his team.

“Sherlock,” you murmured when you turned back to face him. The fog was so dark that you couldn’t make out his features anymore. You felt the fear creeping up your neck while you were trying to figure out what was so wrong with him. “What’s wrong with you? I figured you’d be happy that you practically solved the case...?” 

You saw it, he had been happy. And then you remembered his earlier comment about Molly. Maybe he wished she was here instead to celebrate his win with him.

“Listen... if this is about Molly, you know you can always ask her to tag along instead. I don’t want you to feel... obligated to invite me. She’s probably more useful in a situation like this anyway.” 

You felt yourself internally deflate as you spoke, but you were able to make out Sherlock’s face once more under the city lights. The green began to thin out. He must’ve been relieved at your confession, you thought.

Sherlock visibly tensed for a second before quickly masking it under an air of nonchalance.

“I could care less about Molly or what she’s good for. All I care about is the work and that it gets done. You know that.”

You watched as time passed and you could start seeing more of him. You realized you’d been holding your breath for some time waiting for the green to dissipate and set your detective free. Sherlock was back with you, and whatever feeling tried to take him away from you was lost now. That’s all that mattered.

And, of course, because there were still pressing matters to finish attending to, your moment with Sherlock didn’t last long. You swore something had changed within him. Something you couldn’t name just yet.

You weren’t totally quite convinced that whatever had happened between you two back there wasn’t about Molly, or some strange feeling that Sherlock was having that he’d surely never talk about. Even still you continued to follow after him wherever he asked you to go, as he still always asked you to go. 

And if he happened to stand a little closer to you the next time you worked alongside Scotland Yard, you were none the wiser.

[redrobin-detective]

Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

_________________________________________

It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted. 

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on. 

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie. 

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers. 

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her. 

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand. 

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom. 

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!” 

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

[imkylotrash]

Chaos In My Bones

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You’re not supposed to fall in love with him. Hell, up until this point you thought you weren’t capable of love. But he brings you a feeling of serenity that nothing or no one else can. It’s just too bad it’s not enough to stop you from being the villain in this story. 

A/N I haven’t really stuck to plot of the movies but just used different plot points that fit into the story. 

Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​

You meet him the first time when he’s still the winter soldier - a protect created from deep within the Hydra facilities. You’ve heard rumours of his true identity but Bucky Barnes from 1945 doesn’t mean much to you and neither does Captain America. It’s your lack of empathy that makes you so damn good at what you do. Unlike Bucky, you don’t need someone to fry your brain to convince you that killing people is fun. All your job comes down to is who’s the highest bidder. 

It’s the reason Hydra hires you to work with the Winter Soldier. Granted, he’s one of the best there is but it’s a big assignment and it comes with a lot of risks. They want to make sure the job is done right. That’s the first time you see him in the fryer and it feels wrong. You don’t know how to explain it but seeing him writhing in pain makes your stomach churn. You turn away from it not ready to dive into the feelings the sight brings out in you. His scream pierces your ears to the point where you have to leave the room. 

“Get it together,” you whisper leaning your hands on your knees. You’ve barely talked to the brown-haired man in the other room and here you are feeling sick at the thought of him being in pain. You’ve seen men in pain all your live and most of the time you’ve been the reason for it, but not him. You can’t watch him. 

“Are you getting soft on me?” You turn around to see the man who gave the order to fry his brain once more stand there looking at you. 

“No, sir. Absolutely not, sir.” You take a deep breath hoping you sound as convincing at you’re trying to sound. Fresh air is what saves you. You find your way to the roof stumbling out. What is happening to you? Several deep breaths before you feel somewhat in control again. You tell yourself to get over it refusing to feel weak over a man. It gets easier when you see him the next time seeing as he doesn’t remember you. But still you’re drawn together. You don’t want to care but for the first time in your life, you can’t control your own feelings. There’s no numbing the fire he’s started in your chest. 

-

“Budapest, huh?” You’re turning over one of the few books in the apartment when he walks in. He’s back to his normal self but the ghost of what the Winter Soldier did still lingers in the corner. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks throwing his backpack on the bed. You put the book down on the table looking at the view rather than him. It’s been a while since you saw him last and while you know nothing has changed, it still feels different. Every time you see each other, he’s taken another step away from the world that you’re so integrated in that there’s no escape for you. 

“I had a job to do in Tatabánya. Figured I’d stop by and see how you were doing.” You don’t tell him about the man whose blood splattered onto your skin the night before and he doesn’t ask. It’s the only way to make this work. 

“Also, I missed you,” you add in a softer tone taking two steps towards him. 

“I told you, you should just stay here.” It’s said as a joke but you know he means it. He’d want nothing more than for you to retire and create a simple, peaceful life with him but you can’t do that. You can’t give it up no matter how much you care about him. It’s all you know and you’re good at it. 

“You’d get tired of me if you saw me all the time,” you say finally closing the gap between the two of you and wrapping your arms around him. His metal arm feels cold even through the sleeve but it’s a feeling you’ve come to adore. You reach up to caress his cheek before kissing him. It’s exactly what you need after a rough job. 

“How long are you here for?” he asks hope evident in his voice. 

“I have three days.” It’s better than he hoped for but less than he wanted. It’s all you can offer though and he knows it. 

“Let’s make the most of our time then.” 

- 

“I’ll never get tired of waking up next to you,” he hums nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. You want to stay in bed with him but you also know that any minute now a new assignment will check in on your phone and you’ll have to leave for the airport. 

“You know, you say that every time yet you never come see me. I always have to find you.” You know why though. Steve is openly against Bucky’s “relationship” with you knowing who you are and what you do. You doubt any of the Avengers are a fan of you considering you’re the very thing they fight every day to stop. Lucky for you, Bucky has decided not to listen to them. 

“I’d be flying all around the world if I were to follow you,” he mumbles tightening his grip on you. Once again, his metal arm has a cooling effect on your skin which is much needed in the summer time. 

“You’d be able to experience the world. I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” you whisper. Being here with him is the only place you can afford to relax. You’ve made a lot of enemies over the years but no one will be able to find you here. 

“I don’t care about the world. I care about you.” You’re about to answer when your phone rings. Your face turns pale when you see your next target. You knew the Accords had been tough on the Avengers. It had broken them apart but you never thought the day would come where someone would want them dead.

“Why is there a photo of Steve on your phone?” Bucky asks not fully awake. 

“The government has deemed him a liability to the safety of America.” You’ve never bothered with politics or worried about picking a side. 

“What are you saying?” Bucky sits up and the fact that he’s not touching you anymore doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“I’m saying he is now considered an outlaw due to the Accords. And they want him gone.” Another text chimes in asking you to confirm the assignment. If you didn’t know Bucky, you’d have no qualms taking out Captain America. You don’t particularly like him very much and you know he hates your guts. 

“But you can say no, right?” He’s not looking at you because he already knows the answer. This will tear you apart and you’ll let it. You’re not the good guy in this story, and you won’t become a hero either. You’ve never felt remorse or regretted being the villain - someone had to. 

“We both know I’m not going to say no, Bucky.” The worst part is how you don’t even feel sad about having to kill his best friend. You don’t want to lose Bucky, but you knew it would only be a matter of time before a job would rip you apart. 

“I can’t sta-”

“I know.” For the first time, you find yourself wishing you thought like a good person but there’s chaos in your bones and a storm in your mind. You don’t know how to be good even if you tried. 

“I can give you a head start to warn him but I will be coming for him. It’s the best I can do.” Maybe when the dust settles, you’ll be able to rekindle the fire but you doubt that he’ll ever move past the fact that you killed his best friend. 

“How much time?” 

“Two hours. It’s enough time to call him and get on a plane. I can’t stop this. He caused it himself when he decided he was above the law. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else.” 

“Since when do you care about the law?” he sneers painfully aware that the clock is ticking. 1 hour and 57 minutes. 

“I don’t. But whoever hired me does.” You type out “confirmed” hitting send. It’ll keep them from giving the assignment to someone else. You’re one of the only people who’ll stand a chance against Captain America so it doesn’t surprise you that you were first choice. 1 hour and 54 minutes. 

“I am begging you. Please don’t do this.” His eyes show the desperation he’s trying to keep out of his voice but it’s no use. There are two outcomes; either you kill Cap or he kills you. 

“You know I can’t. Giving you a head start is all I can do.” What you don’t say is that you don’t want to. You’re addicted to the hunt, the feeling of power when you’re holding someone else’s life in your hands. It’s too good a feeling. Bucky knows it wrong when he takes you in his arms and kisses you. He knows you’ve just become the enemy but even the devil has charm. He’s kissing you to tell you everything he’ll never be able to express with words and you reciprocate. You do love him - it’s just not enough. 

“Goodbye, Bucky.” 

[ladyeliot]

Stay with me

Prequel to  It will always be you.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader

Summary: Because of the consequences of your actions, 117 nations come together to create the Sokovia Accords. Now a decision hangs over you, whether to sign them or not, whatever you do will have repercussions.

Warnings: Angst.

Word count: 3702

A/N: Civil War. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic. You use psionic force to track any sentient being. You also create psychic shields to protect yourself. You can project psychic force bolts which have no physical effects but which can affect a victim's mind, causing them pain.

The evidence was clear, the position you were currently in had come about because of some very poor performance on your part, the news had echoed the catastrophes you had caused, especially the attack on Lagos, the governments had lined up to stop it and come to a common agreement to keep you under their command. Deep down you all knew that day would come, though you were confident it would be further away. It had been almost four years since Tony Stark had rescued you from your past, from being a contraption held in a laboratory for research. You had been offered a future where you no longer had to run or hide, you had been offered freedom, a purpose in life, but that bundle of paperwork in front of your eyes was meant to make you a prisoner of the government once again.

The discussion had been getting louder and louder, the different opinions countering each other were causing the nerves to come to the fore, alternating the atmosphere. Although the resolution was clear, there was nothing to be done, you were either with them or against them, becoming a fugitive wanted by the whole world. The Sokovia Accords were established by the United Nations and ratified by 117 nations, and what they proposed was to regulate the activities of the altered individuals, namely that the Avengers would cease to be a private organisation, and from now on would operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, and only when and if that panel deemed it necessary.

There was no turning back, the consequences had been placed before you for the acts you had committed, it was a one way street, not a return. Secretary Ross had been in charge of presenting you with the whole set of papers that would have to be signed by you, but convincing you all to agree was not going to be so easy. 

“So let's say we agree to this thing,” Sam said, unresponsive to the situation. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“A 117 countries want to sign this,” Rhodes reminded him.  “117, Sam, and you're just like, ‘No, that's cool. We got it.’”

Unlike them, you chose to keep a few metres away from the meeting table, remain silent and meditate with yourself on the proposal, not that you didn't know the pros and cons or the consequences of not signing the agreements, but that you wanted to analyse the situation from different points of view without the others questioning your opinions.

"Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal," Natasha said, turning her gaze to Tony.

“It's because he's already made up his mind,” Steve's tone seemed harsher than usual.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Tony countered sarcastically, then turned his gaze and gestured in your direction.  "She does seem to have made up her mind what her decision is."

You felt the gaze of everyone present focus on you, who unlike him preferred to be absorbed in the shadows, hiding from the attention of your companions. But in the end, perhaps his words were true and you had made a decision, a decision that you were not going to allow anyone to choose for you.

"I guess it's not as simple as you're trying to make us believe Tony," your tone was calm and affable, knowing that you were about to receive a sarcastic and ironic counterattack from him.

"Simple?" he gets up from the sofa raising his hands, walking towards the kitchen area, where you were sitting on a stool. "You think it's simple for me?" he pulls a mobile device out of his pocket and sets it down right in front of you on the top, the device projecting an image of a smiling young man. "Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia."

You look down, you understand perfectly what he means, you remember what happened in Sokovia, you remember because you were there, you saw with your own eyes what happened and also the consequences of your actions. But you knew that any decision had consequences and they could have been much worse if you had not acted, although there were also causes for your own fault.

"He wanted to make a difference, I suppose," Tony continued, looking directly at you, his tone rising and stiffening. "I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass."

After his last word, silence filled the room, everyone in the room was reliving the ghosts of the past. Tony definitely realising that you weren't going to look up to return his gaze decided to head back into the room with the others.

"There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes..."

You felt his voice trailing off, then Steve seemed to come in to debate various points, but you could barely focus on what each of them was saying. An internal struggle was going on inside you, and you couldn't wait to see who was going to win.

"I have to go."

You looked up after hearing those words spoken by Steve, his body rose energetically, dropping the agreements from his hand. That was the beginning of all the consequences that were to come after we had made the decision not to sign.

Your steps were decisive, you walked through those long corridors that had become your home for the last few years, knowing that you would most likely never see them again, or at least not for an indefinite period of time. You truly believed you had made a decision, a decision that could become the decision of a lifetime, a before and after in the life process you had created for yourself. You believed that you knew the consequences, that you would be willing to face them as they came. You knew there were going to be setbacks, obstacles, but you didn't expect one as big as him to stand in your way.

"So you've made your decision?" the figure of Tony stood in the doorway of your room, a serious look on his face seeming to immobilise you. "Are you going to leave with Steve?

"I think it's for the best," your words were blunt, as you packed your most essential belongings into a rucksack.

His body entered your room just before the door closed behind him. You knew Tony well enough to know that his next words to you were likely to make an impression on you, but your mind was made up.

"Did you hear anything I just said in the living room?" he pursed his lips and ran his fingers nervously over them.

"Don't make this difficult for me," those words left your lips almost as a plea.

You barely looked at him, your back was turned to him and your eyes were focused on the inside of that backpack that seemed to have no end.

"I suppose you know that your decision is a single ticket," his words were firm. "That you're basically signing your own fucking sentence."

"No," you dropped the backpack and turned to him to find yourself face to face. "That's exactly what I'm running from," you sighed. "I think you of all people know that I know what it's like to be someone's property, that I've been for far too long and that's what really scares me," your pupils dilated as you remembered every single moment you'd lived hidden from the world, being an experiment. "I don't need guys in ties fighting for their own interests telling me what to do or where to go, because my freedom ends when they command me," the seriousness on Tony's face had relaxed, he kept his gaze on his feet and nodded. "I want you to know that I'm going with Steve because you had already made your decision."

The tension spread slightly around you, so much was hidden in those words, much more than what was shown. The complexity of the situation went far beyond signing or not signing the agreements, it was the break-up of a group, of friends, of family, something that could never be put back together again.

"I... I don't know if I'm going to be able to protect you," Tony clenched his jaw as he denied to himself, resting his brown eyes on yours again.

"I never asked you to."

You knew perfectly well how much your words must have hurt him, and what he meant when he said he couldn't protect you. There were so many hidden things in the air, but this was not the right time to start that conversation, maybe it was too late, nothing was going to change things so you asked yourself to please not make things more complicated. You turned around and nimbly zipped up your backpack, everything you had of great sentimental value was inside.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, hanging the backpack over your right shoulder and looking up at him.

"You're not sorry," his tone became serious, but at the same time indifferent, he was hurt. His gaze turned away from yours.

"This isn't what I wanted to happen," you whispered hoping that wasn't the last image you would see of him before you left.

"So, all you have to do was stay," those were the words that almost caused something inside you to stir, but you only gave a small, wistful smile as you looked at his face.

"You know I can't," you whispered hoping he wouldn't extract his share of indifference towards you again. "Please don't make it more complicated for me, because I can't deal with you right now.”

It was impossible to explain to you at that moment the dilemma that was building up inside you. On the one hand your ethics and your values were what prevented you from signing those damn papers that limited and curtailed your freedoms, it was something you assumed. On the other hand, how could it be so hard to leave Tony, why, what was going on right now that you couldn't face?

"Maybe you should just leave now," Tony slipped his hands into his Tom Ford trouser pockets and focused his gaze on the door to your room.

You nodded slowly, your brow furrowed and your lips parted as you didn't expect those words at all, you were ready to start an internal struggle, but he had already sentenced the conversation.

"Alright," you muttered, taking a step backwards, away from him. "Bye Tony."

As you got closer to that door a lump settled tighter in your throat, like a dramatic movie you expected him to say something to stop you at any moment, but he didn't. The door opened and allowed you to leave. The corridors seemed miles long, perhaps because time was slowing down. A black car could be seen from the wide glass windows, there were Steve and Sam waiting for you. A guilty smile appeared on your face as you walked back through the hall, bidding farewell to those present.

As you stepped outside, the air seemed to open up your lungs again, which had been stuck after the last goodbye you had said to Tony. Sam was inside the car, and Steve took care of getting your rucksack into the boot, along with his shield and Sam's wings.

"Are you all right?" muttered Steve, to which your response was a gentle nod.

As you rested your hand on the handle to open the car door, you couldn't help but direct your gaze towards the top of the building, right where you had left Tony a few minutes ago. But there was definitely no sign coming from that spot to stop you from continuing on your way.

The next few days the situation became more complex than anyone here would have expected. Agent Carter's funeral passed without incident, Natasha appeared to inform you that she was leaving for Vienna to sign the agreements, that there was still a chance for you to change your minds, but none of you did. Perhaps it was for the best, because during the signing an attack happened on the spot, an attack that changed the course of things. All eyes were on the Winter Soldier, Bucky, that directed Steve, Sam and you to Bucharest in a supposed attempt to get to Bucky before the authorities did.

"They're on the roof," Sam reported over the intercom.

"Steve get out of there right now," you said hiding on the roof of the building next door. "I can sense you but I can't surround your body with psychic energy unless you come out into the open."

That day was one of the worst failures you had ever managed to pull off, perhaps it was obvious that things didn't go quite right when feelings ran high, and it showed in Steve, especially when law enforcement trapped you in that tunnel.

"Stand down, now," War machine appeared before you to end the fatal chase and set you on your way to Berlin.

You knew what would follow, there was only one way out or the consequences would be far more extreme, either sign the agreements or become prisoners of the law. Things were different for you, Captain could have his shield removed, Sam could have his wings removed and T'Challa, who had appeared in pursuit out of nowhere could have his suit removed too, but you and Bucky were far more dangerous, especially as your powers and dangers were in the mind.

When you arrived at the facility in that armoured truck Bucky was put in an extreme protection capsule, that marked memory making you remember the past time.

"What's going to happen to him?" asked Steve walking beside you in the direction of Everett Ross, Deputy Commander of the Joint Forces.

"The same as you. Psychological evaluation and extradition," he focused his gaze on you.  "Miss Y/L/N, let's hope you'll be cooperative."

You understood his words, you knew the fear you could cause, force could be controlled, the mind was much more complicated.

"Of course," you affirmed with all your good intentions.

You didn't know where, but you assumed that in a few minutes you were going to meet him again in some remote part of that building, you could feel it. First it was Natasha who approached you, and then when you stepped inside the control room there was Tony, talking on the phone.

"[...] consequences?" he turned his body towards you, his gaze fixed on you, which made you cross your arms and look around, avoiding her. "Of course there will be consequences."

"Consequences?" asked Steve with a serious look on his face.

"Secretary Ross wants to prosecute the three of you. I had to give something."

You walked away from them, realising that you had two armed men following your every step around that room. You watched the monitors, every corner of the planet seemed to be controlled by them, there was nothing they could miss, you could even see yourself reflected in one of them.

"Is it worth it?" you turned your face to find yourself face to face with the one who had made you doubt your decision a few days ago.

He took his right hand out of one of his trouser pockets and made a slight gesture for the two security officers who had been assigned to you to move a little away from you, offering you some privacy.

"What do you mean?" you cocked your head to one side. Your voice was stiff, you were tense enough about the situation to offer him a friendly tone.

"I don't know, was it worth risking everything to find yourself back here with possible legal charges?" you didn't deny it, Tony's words hurt.

"Are you rejoicing?" you squinted, uncrossing your arms and turning your whole body towards him.

"How do you think this will all end?" he ran his index finger down the side of his mouth, his nervousness showing. Those words made you shudder. "Now you have a chance, don't let it slip away."

"Please, don't make this worse than it already is," your pleas were in vain. The last thing you wanted right now was a lecture from Tony.

"This wouldn't even abe problem, if you wouldn't make one out of it!" his voice was authoritative.

Your refusals and hesitations had gotten on his nerves, it was evident in the way he was addressing you. That was the last thing you wanted to do, to cause trouble, but it was clear that you were on the defensive against any verbal attack Tony might offer you. Sparks could almost fly between your gazes, which were still on after the conversation was over. You had no idea what was going to happen next, so you were grateful that Natasha caught Tony's attention at that moment, breaking into a battle that wasn't going anywhere.

The hours passed really slowly, so you found a space in a glassed-in conference room to settle in, under, of course, the watchful eye of the guards in charge of you, until you were called in for your psychological analysis.

"Do you need anything?" the door closed behind him.

"Are you playing good cop?" you asked watching as he dropped his blazer on a chair and sat down right next to you. "You're not giving up, are you?"

"I'll take every last cartridge," he leaned his elbow on the table and dropped his chin into the palm of his hand. "You know, I was just remembering earlier when we all went to that Italian restaurant in Soho on your birthday, and then we were at the concert by.... Oh, what was the name of the band? "

"What are you trying Tony?" you cocked your head to the side with a small smile on your face.

"I'm trying to... how do you say?" he rested his index finger on your lips. "Signing a peace agreement? Trying to get to your sensitive spot, because you have one, right?"

"I don't know, I guess if you have one I might as well, huh?" you arched an eyebrow, intertwining your fingers on the table, causing him to make a gesture of placing his hands on yours, but he never got to touch them by restraining himself, so you ignored the gesture.  "Do you want to sign a peace agreement with me, or do you want me to sign the Sokovia Accords?"

He took a breath and let it out slowly through his nostrils. He was completely frustrated, you knew it, you could feel it, he had rarely been involved in those situations that were out of his control.

"Listen," he paused slightly, bringing his fingers to his chin. "I think it's time that I..." he tore his gaze away from yours, let it wander, searching for his words as he gestured with his right hand. "I've tried many times, to do this but.... God, this really is the worst time to do it." He looked around nervously and then crossed his arms, but quickly pulled them apart. "Whatever. We're... well, I... it's likely that I, maybe, can feel..."

You would remember that moment all your life, especially since you wouldn't know until many years later what he meant to say to you. At that moment the lights went out, the monitors stopped working and everything was dark around you, only red flickering lights would have made their way into your darkness. Your head swivelled around you in search of whatever it was that was going on, Tony got up from his seat and placed his glasses over his eyes.

"Friday, give me the source of the blackout," he said to himself.

Finally your eyes focused on Steve and Sam, who were standing next to Sharon in the next room. You listened as Sharon informed them of Bucky's location, and a last glance towards you informed you that they were going to head that way, but just as you were about to leave that meeting room a hand came down hard around your arm.

"Stay with me," the trembling words that came from his lips seemed to shake your insides.

"I can't," you mumbled through your teeth almost with all the pain in your heart.

His fingers loosened, allowing you to leave the room as quickly as possible, but you took one last second to contemplate his face and how many feelings were hidden in it. You knew you only had one chance, everyone present was distracted enough to find the reason for the blackout, you had only a few seconds to get out of the room without being seen, and a couple of minutes before they noticed, so you didn't take long to do it.

A new decision piled up on your list, always facing the consequences you had acquired, and fighting against the feelings your heart presented to you. It wasn't easy, you hadn't given it much thought either, but what you did know was that you didn't regret having done it, at least so far.

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[five-rivers]

Oooh, I just saw the big about prompts!

“Blessings of rot and petrichor, my prince. May you have a home in the dark, and may the distant stars you reach for never fade.”

(Can be inspiration or an actual quote; do what ya want! :P)

The world ended on a Saturday, and it wasn’t Danny’s fault.  Even if that Saturday happened to be his sixteenth birthday.  

Okay, maybe that was a bit overdramatic.  But, honestly, neither he nor anyone else he’d ever spoken to knew why or how things had turned out this way.  Just that, one morning, reality shook, shuddered, and took a few steps to the left.  

Humanity woke to green-streaked skies, a rainbow sun, and a lot more universe than they were used to.  So did ghosts.  

This was a problem.  It might even be deemed the problem.  Humans and ghosts didn’t exactly get along, and even when neither the ghosts nor the humans involved particularly wanted to fight, the new laws of nature and the few who did want to fight tended to ruin things for everyone else.  (Cough, GIW, cough, Walker, cough.)

Hence the end of the world.  Or, at least, most large-scale governments.  

It could have been worse.

Amity Park stopped being a city that day, fragmented with Ghost Zone wilderness, landscape and spatial dimensions shattered in a spiderweb centered on Fentonworks, the portal a wellspring of wild power and unpredictable translocations.  Danny had worried that the portal had been the cause of the whole thing, but Amity Park was far from the only place with similar issues (look at New York), and Danny eventually was able to accept that not every bad ghost-related thing that happened was on him.  

(Probably.)

Honestly, once everything calmed down a bit, the new world was much more comfortable, physically and mentally, for Danny to live in.  Which was weird, but made sense.  The new world was split between human and ghost, just like him.  It was everyone else who was uncomfortable, now.  

Which, again, he felt guilty about, but, yeah.  He couldn’t do anything about that, so feeling guilty was counterintuitive.  Thank you, tiny Jazz in his head.  

It was Saturday again.  Time for the market fair.  

“Mom and Dad are already out?” asked Danny, leaning over the banister.  

“Yeah,” said Jazz, not looking up from her work transcribing an old ghost text into something more palatable to human eyes.  She adjusted her green lenses to sit closer to her eyes.  “An hour or two ago.  Some guys from Chicago came in last night, apparently, and they wanted to get a head start.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “I’m going, too.  You want anything?”

“Nope.  I’d be going myself if I did,” said Jazz.  

“You sure?  Nothing for dinner?”  

“Nope, I’m all set.”

“Cool,” said Danny, padding towards the door.  He pulled his nice, dark coat, the one he’d gotten from Dora, off the hook, and shrugged into it, pulling up the hood.  

“No shoes today?” asked Jazz, who had finally looked up.  

“Eh,” said Danny.  “I guess not.  Doesn’t really feel like a shoe kind of day.”  He flexed his toes.

“Well, avoid blackberries, then,” said Jazz.  

“They should avoid me,” joked Danny.  “Good luck with that book!”

“Thanks,” said Jazz, waving as Danny left.  

Fentonworks was the same tall, brick-and-UFO building as it had always been, but now it stood alone on top of a small hill rising from a distinctly purple forest.  The dark grass waved back and forth like the tentacles of a sea anemone.  Bright green portal streaks, cracks in reality, stood out against the foliage, along with a few other buildings that had once belonged to the Fentons’ neighborhood.  The sun was blue today, but Danny predicted it would be green by nightfall.  

Danny walked down the path, the dirt on it declining to adhere to Danny’s feet.  He hummed, quietly, a tune he half-remembered from before the apocalypse.  He would not be walking all the way to the market fair, it was too far.  His parents had taken the Speeder.  

Danny, on the other hand, had a shortcut.  

He reached one of the portal-fractures and passed through to a part of the forest where the trees whispered to one another.  He took a moment to reorient himself, and continued to the next portal fracture.  

As far as he knew, he was the only person who could reliably travel like this.  He could have flown, but the market fair was busy, and he preferred to maintain his peaceful life.  Phantom was still a celebrity in Amity Park.  Even more so now, than before, as ghosts were no longer shot on sight.  

Some ghosts even came to Amity Park’s market fair.  

He walked through a wider-than-usual fracture which deposited him just outside the main fragment of Amity Park, near the erstwhile mall.  The mall and its attached parking lot being the place the market fair took place.  

It was busy.  There were trucks stamped with the seal of Illinois parked on the edges, presumably belonging to the delegation from Chicago.  There seemed to be more ghosts than usual as well, enough of them to make Danny shiver.   Had they come from Chicago, or was it just a coincidence?  If they had, that would be nice.  Chicago had a lot of local influence, and was one of the places that was still trying to hold together something like a national government.  If they accepted ghosts, others would follow more readily.  

Peace between the two worlds in places other than Amity Park would be very nice.  

Danny wandered down the paths of the market fair, not in any particular hurry to get to his parents’ booth.  He was always more interested in the other things at the fair.  Even if he rarely bought anything.  

People seemed to be mostly moving in one direction.  No, they were being drawn in one direction, with people tugging their companions onward.  Danny, not having anything better to do, went with the flow.  

Which led back to where the Chicago delegation was set up.  Several people were standing in front of the trucks, arguing.  

“How can you lose an entire bevy of ghosts?” demanded the man who appeared to be in charge.  

The target of his ire merely shrugged.  

“Can’t lose people like that, bub!” shouted someone from the crowd.  There was a titter of laughter.  

“Didn’t you have a big, fancy announcement, fed?” 

More laughter.  

“Yeah, what did you want to say?”  This voice had an echo to it, and the the man looked extremely aggrieved.  

Nevertheless, he took a deep breath.  “We were led to believe,” he said, cheek jumping, “by certain ghosts, that there was a way to negotiate with the ghosts and... reverse this nonsense.”

Wow.  So, Chicago got scammed.  That could have repercussions.  Danny hoped Amity Park wouldn’t see too much of the fallout.  

“Wouldn’t you jump on any chance to stop this?” demanded the man in response to the jeers, gesturing at the sky and its pulsing bands of light.  

“Tell us a better story!” shouted Ember, who had struck up a much more cordial relationship with Amity Park after the apocalypse.  “One that we’ll remember!”

The man turned away, throwing his hands in the air.  “Go find them!” he shouted, presumably to his subordinates. 

The crowd broke up.  

Danny was curious.  It was one of his defining characteristics, both as a human and as a ghost.  He followed one of the Chicagoans as they walked into the market turning this way and that.  

“So,” he said, “what story was your boss fed?”

The woman jumped and looked down at him, disconcerted.  (Yes, he was short.  That wasn’t his fault.  Except that it probably was, via the portal accident.)

The woman sighed.  “Why not, it’ll be out before too long.  We were told that the rightful king of ghosts was in hiding here, or something stupid like that.  I don’t think they ever said he could fix the world, even.  Only that he could be negotiated with.”  She kicked the ground.  “This is so stupid.  There’s no ghost king.  This is never going to get fixed.”

“It’s not so bad, is it?” asked Danny.  

“How old even were you when it happened.  Ten?” asked the woman.  

“Excuse me, I was sixteen,” said Danny, crossing his arms.  

“That’s cute,” said the woman, dragging her hand down her face.  “You’re like thirteen, tops.  Not nineteen.  Jesus.  Go bother someone else, kid.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “Well, you aren’t wrong that there’s no ghost king.  Last guy who called himself that got beaten up and locked in a sarcophagus forever.”

Then, just to mess with her, because she’d been rude, Danny turned invisible and left before she turned around.  

Now...  He should probably try to warn people about the scam artist ghosts.  Or would they know from the other people watching?  

Danny flicked back into visibility and continued perusing the various stalls, making small talk with the owners, bringing up the Chicagoans when it was appropriate.  

He was passing by the covered entrance of the mall, one of the most crowded spots in the market fair, when his ghost sense went off, indicating an unfamiliar ghost was nearby.  He scanned the crowd for the ghost.  He didn’t have to look very hard.  Strange ghosts tended to draw eyes, even in Amity Park.  

Especially ones that looked like this.  Inhumanly tall, cloaked, and moving smoothly.  Glimpses under their hoods showed faces riddled with decay- or at least the appearance of decay.  The three of them held instruments.  Flute, drum, and summoning bell.

Danny stood to the side to let them pass.  After all, they weren’t doing anything bad as far as he could see.  

They did not.  Instead, they stopped in front of Danny.  Typical.  

Then they started playing their instruments.  And kneeling.  

Aaaand the crowd was getting bigger.  There was the person from Chicago, too.  Could he escape without turning invisible with all this attention on him?

Probably not without showcasing his ghost powers.  There were people who knew him in this crowd.  Like Paulina.  And Star.  

“Um,” said Danny.  “Hi?”

The leading ghost looked up as the sun’s light turned emerald green.  

“Blessings of rot and petrichor, my prince. May you have a home in the dark, and may the distant stars you reach for never fade.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw the Chicagoan’s jaw drop.  

“I think you might have the wrong guy,” said Danny.  “I’m not anyone’s prince.”

The ghost grinned, sharp and white.  “We came to give our blessings, my prince.  You do not need to accept them for them to exist.  We offer, also, our service and our hope in this new world that you are so suited for.”

Yeah.  This was going to be a problem.  

[evienyx]

DSMP Citizens POV 3: The L'Manburg Librarian

Got an ask requesting a dsmpsona, specifically from someone who wanted to see a part of this series with @thesmpisonfire and their dsmpsona. Luckily, I follow them, and so I'm well-prepared for this one. I took a bit of liberty with their canon deaths, so I hope that's all right. Mostly that they weren't blown up for the first one.

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DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

- - -

Everyone knew that the L'Manburg Revolution was a turning point for the server. It marked the first nation separate from the Admin's rule. The Revolution was a celebration when people reminisced in the streets of a freed L'Manburg.

Still, many people failed to remember that there had still been a war for that freedom.

Of course, those who fought in that war would never forget the blood that was shed, the lives that were lost for the sake of their freedom. Included in these numbers was the L'Manburg Librarian.

Also known as Des, the L'Manburg Librarian had been a part of the country since the beginning, joining the nation as soon as word of it reached their ears. Unlike some, the Librarian fought hard and true for the new country's independence, and when a sword was shoved through them as a splash potion of poison ate away at whatever was left of their life, they simply grinned and returned their enemy's blow with one of their own. Their dogs came to finish the job, and then sat with the Librarian as they sprawled back on the grass, watching the clouds pass by with the sun on their face and a smile on their lips until their body finally gave out and the server returned them to their bed, one life ticked off of their count.

The Librarian shuddered, steadied their trembling hands, grabbed their weapon, and sprinted back toward the battlefield.

When L'Manburg's independence was finally secured with VP Tommy's sacrifice of his discs, Des was sure that they cheered the loudest.

For a while, things were peaceful. Des was given confirmation to build a library up within the country, and people donated books or they would gather them themself, building up a collection that stretched to the ceiling.

When the Election arrived, the L'Manburg Librarian didn't care much for it until SWAG 2020's campaign was announced. Suddenly, then, there was weight to the election, and they weren't about to watch the country that they had died for go up in flames without them having a say in it. So, they listened to every debate there was, mulled over the campaigns and what each party promised. They were partial to Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit, of course. President Soot had led them in the revolution. He had build this country with his own two hands, surely he would know how to care for it.

Then, though, COCONUT 2020 announced their candidacy, with Fundy Soot and Niki Nihachu, who promised free cookies and ice cream for all should they be victorious, and Des abruptly knew exactly who they were voting for.

(And it wasn't President Soot.)

When the results came in, though, much to their chagrin, COCONUT 2020 hadn't won. In fact, they had been disqualified entirely for supposed hacking.

It was announced that POG 2020 had gotten the majority, and Des was satisfied, until the word 'coalition' left President Soot's mouth and everything seemed to come crashing down at once.

Des whirled around as ex-President Soot and ex-VP Tommy were forced to flee, the older giving one last shove to his right-hand man before falling to the ground. A moment later, Wilbur Soot disappeared, and a heavy feeling swept over the citizens of L'Manburg. The man who had built their country from the ground up, who had led them all to freedom, was now on his last life.

The L'Manburg Librarian swallowed, listened with clenched fists as the country that they had died for was renamed 'Manburg,' and then retreated to their library. At least they could find solace in their books.

Until, a week-and-a-half later, while Des was sorting their book collection on one of the lower shelves and stroking a cat at the same time, the door opened and in stepped President Schlatt.

"Mr. President," the L'Manburg Librarian said, inclining their head just a bit. After what had happened at the inauguration, they didn't really want to get on this guy's bad side.

"Librarian," Schlatt said, his voice hard. He took another step forward, and Des noticed then Secretary Underscore standing behind the president on one side. Vice President Quackity was nowhere to be seen.

"What can I help you with?"

"Cut the shit, already, I know what you are," Schlatt said, his voice dropping and eyes narrowing. The L'Manburg Librarian felt a pounding in their chest at his words, and leaned back despite the fact that he was not very close to them at all.

"What... What are you talking about?"

"You're a rebel," the president hissed.

"A what?"

"Oh, don't play dumb! You think I don't know what you're doing here in your little 'library,' spreading propaganda, telling lies to the people."

Des blinked. "These aren't lies, Mr. President. They're history books."

Eventually, it seemed as though as long as they stood their ground, they weren't getting banished anytime soon, which was nice.

(Their taxes were still increased, though, the same way that Niki Nihachu's were, and the L'Manburg Librarian didn't find that particularly fair in the slightest.)

Still, despite the whole thing with the taxes and constantly being accused of being a rebel (which Des totally would be, were they not so thoroughly entertained by the Manburg Cabinet), life in Manburg was all right. It was dreary, sure. Everyone seemed a bit downtrodden, everyone walked a bit quieter, their shoulders a bit more tense, but other than that, it was all right.

(The L'Manburg Librarian still cried when the flag went up in flames. They had been there when that flag was first hung. Now it was gone, like it had never even been there in the first place.)

(The number of visitors to their library increased after the burning for a few weeks, and the number of tears shed were enough that Des started just offering tissues at the door.)

(They understood, of course.)

(That was why they did what they did.)

After the execution of Secretary Underscore, one that the L'Manburg Librarian both hated to watch and couldn't look away from, jotting down every detail in a notebook before running as soon as Technoblade turned on the crowd, Des felt that there was more tension in the air than there had been before.

Then, one day, as they went for an evening walk through Manburg, they heard yelling coming from the White House. They ducked behind a pillar, and watched as Vice President Quackity jumped on the President and beat him to death.

"Holy fucking shit," Des breathed. Schlatt's body disappeared, Quackity fled from the scene, and the L'Manburg Librarian found themself a bit disappointed that most of the original Manburg Cabinet was gone. The drama would be drastically decreased, now, and that was one of the only reasons they stayed in this Prime-forsaken country to begin with.

During the war between Manburg and Pogtopia, Des joined up with the Pogtopia forces, if only because they had never been accused of being a rebel by having historically-accurate books when they were under the previous administration.

"Take that, Emperor Fuck-Face!" They exclaimed, laughing as they set fire to a Manburg flag.

"Language!" BadBoyHalo, the head of the Badlands, cried. The L'Manburg Librarian, fully done with everyone's shit and excited to have their country back, raised a middle finger to the sky and dashed back into battle.

They watched as TommyInnit passed the presidency to Wilbur Soot, who then passed it to Tubbo Underscore. Des grinned, wide and a bit manic, as the teenager gave a speech, promising to build the country back better, to heal from the wounds that the previous administration had caused.

Then, they all heard the hissing in the ground below them, and the crowd barely had a chance to run as the nation exploded around them.

The L'Manburg Librarian went at the Withers that Technoblade spawned with a ferocity that surprised both no one and everyone.

It didn't stop their library from being destroyed, though. Nor their house.

President Tubbo, though, gave them government-allocated funds to rebuild, and so they did. And maybe then some. Hey, if the government was paying for it, what was the harm?

Des grinned and wiped the sweat off their brow as they finally rebuilt their library in New L'Manburg. The first night, though, they dropped down the ladder from the second-floor to find someone sifting through their books.

"Uh, hello?"

The face turned to them, and it was that of President Soot. Who was dead. His body was grayed out, save for his bright-yellow sweater and the blue that was splattered across it, the same color leaking from his eyes, so dark that it was as if Des was looking into the void itself.

"Oh, hello!" President Soot said, with all the pep that he hadn't had in life. "What's your name?"

The Librarian was a bit taken aback. President Soot had always been rather supportive of the work that they did, collecting books and keeping tabs on the events that happened, so that future generations could read about the history of their nation. "Uh, I'm Des. Most people know me as the L'Manburg Librarian."

"Nice to meet you, Des the L'Manburg Librarian!" President Soot said. "I'm Ghostbur. You might have known me as Wilbur Soot, but I don't remember much about being Alivebur, so I couldn't really tell you anything."

"Oh. You're dead?"

"Yep!" And with that, the ghost went back to sorting through their books.

"Uh, sorry, the library is closed right now," Des said, moving forward to put a hand on the ghost's wrist. The skin was cold, and they were sure that if they put a bit more pressure, their hand would slide right through him.

"Oh, no, I'm just getting books to take back to my sewer!" Ghostbur said, as if his words weren't absolutely insane. "I'm making a library there. I want to collect all the books on the server, so that they're protected and the history can be read about for generations!"

The L'Manburg Librarian blinked. "There's no need for that. That's what I'm doing. I collect these books so that people can always learn about the country's history."

Ghostbur frowned, looking rather confused. "That's what I'm doing."

And so began one of the oddest competitions. Ghostbur would steal books from Des's library, Des would steal them right back. This went on for months until the day came that President Tubbo announced to the people of L'Manburg that their country had one day left to live.

"Technoblade, Dream, and Philza are all coming tomorrow to destroy our country," the teenage president said to the people gathered. "Get everything valuable, everything that you wouldn't want blown-up, all of your pets, all your friends and family, and evacuate. King Eret has graciously offered all of our people sanctuary. You may move everything to the land of the Greater SMP, where we have erected a temporary campsite for everyone to leave at." The president cleared his throat, and it hit the L'Manburg Librarian just how exhausted the teenager looked. "We are going to be trying to fight against them. Anyone who wishes to join us in the battle, may, but know that there are incredible risks. It is likely many of us will lose lives. We will do our best to keep our nation standing, strong and free." His words were broadcast through the communicators, and the whole of the country could hear them.

Des moved their pets to the Greater SMP that night, not wanting to take any risks. As they called their friends who lived in other nations to assist them in transporting the books from their library, Des did their best to reminisce on the good memories that they all had back before the L'Manburg elections.

"Des," their friends all said for what felt like the hundredth time, "We are not fighting for L'Manburg again. We have lost too much shit, and over half of us have lost a life, and we don't even live there anymore. That country is going to go down."

"Not if we fight for it!" The L'Manburg Librarian exclaimed. "Guys, c'mon! It stands for freedom! You remember how we fought for it in the Revolution! How we built it together!"

"Yeah," their friends said, deadpan. "And we died. Because of Dream. Who is coming with Technoblade, the Blood God, and Philza, the Angel of Death, to blow it down to bedrock."

"Whatever. I'm still going."

Their friends frowned. "Just... don't die, Des."

Des had never been the best at listening.

The next day, in the afternoon, with a grid of obsidian dropping TNT from the sky and more Withers than they could count soaring through the skies, the L'Manburg Librarian launched themself at Technoblade with a scream.

Before they could even reach him, a bomb from above fell on their head, exploding and launching them backward. Their ears ringing, spots dancing in their eyes, Des flew through the air, down, down, down into the crater below. They heard a crack through the ringing, and then everything was gone.

They sat up in their bed at the campsite once the server reclaimed their soul and brought them back, tears streaming down their face and hands shaking. They gasped on their breaths, and their face felt as if it was on fire. Their fingers ran over their skin and felt bumps, scars from the explosion that had rocketed them back into the crater. Des took a deep breath, dug their nails into their palms, grabbed their weapons, and set off back toward the battle.

When all was said and done, L'Manburg was gone. The nation that they had fought for, that twice they had died for, was nothing more than a hole in the ground. There was no rebuilding from this, and the L'Manburg Librarian knew this. They built up a cottage, technically on King Eret's land, moving their books and pets into the new home.

One day, about a week after Doomsday, they returned to the cottage to find King Eret there, standing outside of their door with one of his knights at his side.

"Hello," King Eret smiled, adjusting her sunglasses. "How are you, today?"

Des shrugged.

King Eret hummed. "Well," they said. "I was wondering what you were doing on my land?"

"I lived in L'Manburg," the Librarian said, their voice level, emotionless. They were rather drained. "Fought for it in the Revolution. Died for it. Twice. I... I didn't realize that this was your land. Sorry."

King Eret furrowed his eyebrows, face turning sympathetic. "I did many things to wrong L'Manburg," she said, hands moving to adjust her sunglasses. "Now, it's gone. The least I can do is help the people who used to live here." King Eret offered a soft smile. "Feel free to stay here as long as you like."

Des nodded, their throat a bit dry. King Eret inclined their head before turning to head up to the castle, the knight following close behind.

The Librarian stood there for a moment before pushing open the door to their cottage and stepping inside.

They adopted two more dogs, within the following few weeks, after seeing the animals on the street for a few days. Des focused in on caring for their pets, both old and new, helping both the animals and themself through the trauma that seemed to be a given with living on the Dream SMP server.

A bit after the destruction of L'Manburg, though, the Librarian was sitting in their home, stroking one of their dogs, when there was a sound from the other room, where their books were contained.

Des had learned to not take chances. They grabbed a splash potion of poison, one of harming, another of weakness, and their sword. The dogs followed them as they moved quietly toward the small library where their books were. They pushed open the door, saw someone standing in the shadows, hands reaching toward the books, and immediately threw all three potions.

The Librarian rushed in and slashed at the figure, who just barely managed to raise a shield and stop their blade.

"Leave," Des said. The dogs entered the room, flanking either side of them, growling at the intruder.

"I was hired to destroy everything that remains of L'Manburg," the figure said, and the Librarian recognized the voice as the mercenary, Punz.

"I don't care," they replied. "You are in my house, threatening my property."

The mercenary repeated what he had said.

"I am under the protection of King Eret," Des said, trying their luck at something that they weren't quite sure of the validity of. "And you are trespassing on their land. If you even touch these books, I will be forced to contact the authorities." The Librarian's hand tightened around the hilt of their sword. "And you best pray that they get here before I can finish with you."

Punz was still for a moment before slipping out the open window and disappearing. Des sighed, shoulders untensing just a bit, and they ran their fingers over the spines of their books before leading the dogs out of the room and closing the door.

The Librarian began to borrow money, after that, to build a new library, one with good security. King Eret allowed them to construct it next to the Museum, where the history of the server could all be in one place. In the process of borrowing the money, though, Des ended up accidentally falling into debt with Quackity, the old Vice President of L'Manburg and the current leader of Las Nevadas, a new power on the server.

"It's easy," Quackity said when he confronted them. "You owe me. You work for me, and that will repay your debt. If not, I might be forced to consider... other means."

The Librarian, though, knew what this man could do, and they nodded and took the job.

(Maybe, though, it was also because they wanted a purpose. They wanted something that made them feel the way they had when they lived in L'Manburg.

They wanted a nation that they could care about. They liked living on King Eret's land, but they didn't care about the Greater SMP. The library was still under construction, and would be for a while, especially in order to be secure enough to protect so much history. Des had nothing, at the moment.

And so, they moved their pets over to Las Nevadas in order to work off their debt.

And maybe they also did it because they wanted to start anew.

When they saw Wilbur Soot again, though, alive and well, with a shock of white in his hair, and when they saw Fundy Soot, walking at night in the woods with troubles on his lips and fear in his eyes, and when they saw Foolish, a god who helped others because he didn't want to face his own problems, and when they saw Charlie, a guy who definitely knew how to be a person, they realized something. This nation was for people who had nowhere else to go.

And now, with L'Manburg gone, with a library unfinished and land that wasn't even their own, Des the L'Manburg Librarian counted as just another person on the server with nothing left at all.)

[caws5749]

CH 13: Experimentations

A/N: I hope you enjoy, I’m very excited about where the series is going! 

Your Red-Headed Mentor Masterlist

Tony watched from the window as you descended the plane stairs, making your way towards the crowd of agents. He felt troubled and on edge, as if something was out of place, just slightly amiss.

A twinge of guilt ran through him as he took in your expression. You were frightened, though you tried to mask it. But mostly, you just looked like you’d tried to rectify something. You looked as though you were turning yourself  for your sins because it was the right thing to do, when you really hadn’t done anything besides fight your teammates and not add a signature to a piece of paper. He felt responsible.

When Tony saw you fall as a gunshot rang out, he was already halfway out the door, the Iron Man suit encasing his body. He should have known something wasn’t right.

Unfortunately, no matter how fast he flew, he wasn’t fast enough. You were taken away on one of the jets, and he hadn’t seen which one. He couldn’t get to you, so he did the next best thing, and got to one of the agents.

“Where the hell did you take her? What did you do?” he interrogated, pointing his hand at one of the leftover men.

“She will serve a greater purpose now,” the man smiled, before crushing something between his teeth and falling to the ground.

++++++++

“Hey, Tony,” Clint answered the phone.

“Hey, Clint. Listen, something bad happened.”

Tony explained what he’d seen while Clint silently panicked. After clearing his head, he promised Tony he’d start researching and reaching out to some old contacts about new groups that were in the business of kidnapping Avengers.

Within five hours, he’d found something, prompting him to give Tony a call back.

“Hey. I’ve got a location, and a purpose, but you’re not going to like it.”

+++++++

Your head was pounding, to put it lightly. A more accurate statement would be that it felt like someone was fiddling with a needle in your brain.

Were those voices? Was a mouse running all over your body or was someone jamming needles into your extremities?

You’d thought that your next session with the “Physical Specialist,” as the Red Room called him, was tomorrow, not today.

Forcing your eyes open, you immediately called out in fear. This man wasn’t familiar and neither was the room. You had no idea where you were, but you had a feeling it wasn’t good.

“Hello, pet,” the man snarled, his lips curling upwards in a way that sent horror through you.

You tried to gather your bearings as your eyes searched the room for anything that might give you a clue as to why you were here and where exactly ‘here’ was.

“You’ll find nothing,” the man pointed out airily. “You will not know where you are, nor will you know who we are. You will simply exist here, as my pet, until you are fit for duty.”

“And what might that be?” you asked.

“That is for me to know, and you to find out.”

You tried not to scream when he plunged a needle into your neck.

“That’s it, pet, that’s it,” he whispered, coming closer so that his lips were ghosting over your ear. You were starting to see black at the edges of your vision, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before unconsciousness reclaimed you.

“You may call me… Dr. Romanoff. That name means something to you, doesn’t it, pet. Does it make you feel alone? Sad that you cannot call upon her? It’s a shame, really. You’ll never see her again, until I make you kill her. Until I make you cut her open, slowly, and painfully, so that you have to watch and feel every cut of the knife as you tear your mentor apart.”

You couldn’t help it when tears flowed as the blackness consumed you.

++++++

“Wake up, my pet.”

You jolted awake, tugging at the shackles that bound you.

“I am afraid you are still trapped, sweetheart. But don’t worry, soon you will be able to exist in a special type of containment.” The man smiled sickeningly, and you felt nauseous.

Something else felt….wrong too, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. It felt like something was coursing through your veins and threatening to explode out of you at any moment.

“Do you feel it yet?” he asked. He didn’t wait for a response. “That power, flowing through your veins. The experiment has worked.”

Your heart stopped.

“What did you do to me?” you growled.

“You will soon see,” he grinned wickedly. “For now, I think it’s time for another nap. You may familiarize yourself with your newfound abilities when you wake.”

+++++++

“Come on, Nat,” Clint begged quietly as the phone rang for the fifth time.

“The subscriber you have dialed is no longer in service,” the automated voice finally said. He ran his fingers through his hair. She didn’t want to be found, and so she wouldn’t be. And normally that was fine, except for the fact that Clint needed her.

Natasha had no idea what was going on with you right now. She’d assumed the government had put you up in a cell in some high security prison, and that you’d either be broken out by Steve or released when - or if - things resolved. And she certainly couldn’t do anything about it, so she’d left.

Which would have been fine, if the government had actually been the one to take you. Unfortunately for everyone, you’d been taken by a unique side branch of HYDRA, formally known as EXIA. They were highly invested in human experimentation and artificial intelligence, and they weren’t going to let their major experiment be done on just anyone. Once they knew they could successfully perform an implantation of abilities on someone, they set their eyes on you. You were young, resilient, strong, and above all, a public figure. There was no better way to get EXIA on the map than by kidnapping an Avenger and performing a successful experiment on her.

On the other side of the world, Tony was preparing for your rescue mission. With intel from Clint that seemed legit, he’d asked Vision to accompany him to check out whether or not you were being hidden away in an underground base in Siberia.

“What if her mind’s been fiddled with?” Tony wondered aloud, tinkering with his suit.

“I would not be surprised if it had, Tony,” Vision answered, looking more somber than usual.

“We don’t know what we’re walking into.” It was Tony’s way of saying ��be careful.’

“No, we do not. We will get her back, though.”

Tony nodded. He only hoped the modified robot was right.

++++++++

“Up!” a loud voice commanded as an alarm rang out loudly. You startled awake, your head fuzzy.

“Up, my pet!”

You were much too out of it to fight, so you opened your eyes, shakily standing. It was then that you took in your surroundings. The closest way to describe the room you were in was that it appeared to be similar to a giant shower.

The more you woke up, the more another feeling, a new one, took over.

“Do you feel that, sweetheart? It is your power. Let it out.”

You looked for where the voice was coming from, but apart from the speaker up in the corner, you couldn’t see him.

But the feeling was becoming overwhelming, and letting it out sounded like it would bring relief. The only issue was that you weren’t exactly sure what would happen if you did.

“If you do not, pet, I will force you.”

You took a second to consider your options, realizing you had none. You took a deep breath, before letting go. The second you stopped holding back, you couldn’t stop. You didn’t even have a minute to be surprised when water was the thing that came out of you. All you knew was that you needed to let it out, that it felt so good to relinquish control.

You even caught yourself with the barest hint of a smile, though suddenly a wave of dizziness came over you, and you collapsed onto the floor.

+++++++

“Got you,” Tony muttered to himself, swooping into the room and blasting all of the guards. He picked up your unconscious body, panicking slightly at the pale color of your skin. Shaking his head to clear all traces of anger towards the man who did this to you, he made sure you were secure before taking off.

Back on the jet, Vision tried to assess you while Tony piloted.

“She appears to be dehydrated. She will need an IV.”

“What the hell did they do to her?” Tony muttered, growing angrier by the second.

“I got a look into their laboratories, as well as a very unique room. I am inclined to believe she has hydrokinesis.”

“Water powers.”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“I’m guessing she’s not very good at controlling them yet,” Tony sighed. “What type of unique room?”

“It’s purpose was most likely a training space for her.”

“Did you get a good look at it? We’re going to need one of those.”

+++++++

“I know you’re out there.”

“I know you know I’m out here. So, are we going to talk like grownups?”

“Is that what we are?”

“Yelena,” Natasha breathed as she finally laid eyes on the woman she hadn’t seen in years.

“Natasha. What brings you home?”

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Journeys end in lovers meeting - Sam/Deena - Fear Street x Bly Manor AU - Chapter 2

Chapters: 2/10 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Sarah Fier/Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Christine "Ziggy" Berman/Nick Goode, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Deena Johnson Characters: Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Deena Johnson, Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Simon Kalivoda, Josh Johnson (Fear Street), Constance (Fear Street Part 3: 1666), Christine "Ziggy" Berman, Nick Goode (Fear Street), Alice (Fear Street Part 2: 1978), Sarah Fier (Fear Street), Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Solomon Goode (Fear Street) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, The Haunting of Bly Manor AU, Not Canon Compliant, Haunted Houses, Ghosts, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Canon Lesbian Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Au Pair Sam, Gardener Deena, Housekeeper Kate, Cook Simon, Josh and Constance as troubled kids, Ziggy and Nick in an unhealthy relationship, minor Cindy/Alice, Martin cameos, special appearances of all the Shadyside killers as ghosts, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The Rest Is Confetti Summary:

The year is 1994. Samantha Fraser recently moved to Shadyside, and she desperately needs a job that will help her leave her troubled past behind. She starts working as au pair at Shadyside Manor, where she is not the only one tortured by ghosts. Grief, regrets, guilt, innocent victims, and an ancient curse. At the center of all of it... love.

Chapter 2:

Sam hadn’t been kidding when she said she would deal with the kids by herself. About nine years as a teacher were worth it. She knew exactly how to balance patience and authority, and exactly when to crack a smile. It wasn’t time for smiles though. It was time to let the kids of Shadyside manor know that their days of self-government were over. Sam was brought there to bring them an education, and that included rules, discipline, and consequences to their actions.

So, if they locked her in a closet, there would have to be a sort of punishment. If they were responsible for the muddy footprints that appeared on the staircase of the house, there would also be a punishment. Nothing too severe, of course. Sam knew even the word punishment seemed too hard for kids. But she knew this would be her only chance at asserting her position in that place.

That was how, after breakfast, Sam found herself with nothing to do while Josh and Constance worked on cleaning up the stairs. Luckily, she was quickly approached by two of her coworkers.

“So, since you have put the kids to do my work,” Kate said. “Why don’t you come hang us for a bit?”

Simon pulled out one of the chairs from the table and with a flourish offered it to Sam, “Miss Fraser, would you care to join us for a mid-morning shit-talking session?”

“Oh, sure,” Sam chuckled nervously and accepted the seat. “And you can just call me Sam.” She couldn’t help repeating herself. She didn’t exactly have good memories attached to her name. She only ever wished to be just Sam.

“Don’t creep her out, please,” Kate told her friend and two of them took a seat as well. “So, Sam, what do you think of the house so far? And the kids?”

The new au pair took her time to answer. “The house is… big. It’s uh, I mean, sure, it looks scary. But once inside, it doesn’t feel as bad as the rumors make it out to be, you know?”

Kate nodded firmly, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Simon grinned playfully and leaned forward on the table as if about to discuss a secret, “You don’t have haunted houses in Sunnyvale?”

Sam chuckled bitterly at that. Apparently, it wasn’t a secret for anyone the place she came from. If only they knew the full story. “No we don’t,” she looked down and shook her head. “Sunnyvale has its different types of hauntings though.”

“What about the kids?” Kate blurted out.

“The Sunnyvale kids?”

“What? No! Constance and Josh,” Kate scoffed, and sent an unimpressed look in Sam's way. 

“Oh, right,” Sam laughed nervously. She desperately hoped she wasn’t blushing in embarrassment. Kate was staring at her very intently, studying her. But it was, somehow, not getting exactly the effect she was hoping for in Sam. Because yes, maybe Sam was deeply intimidated. But she could also tell that Kate’s harshness came from a place of being protective of the kids and caring about them. “They seem great, really,” Sam eventually replied. “Constance is bold and Josh is an introvert, but I’ve dealt with kids like that my entire life. I’m going to try my best with them though, that’s for sure. I just… have to get to know them.”

At that moment, Kate and Simon exchanged a look. Sam had no doubt it was true that those two had been best friends for a long time. It seemed like a really important conversation was silently happening between them. Finally, Simon spoke up.

“No, you haven’t worked with kids like them,” he replied, suddenly very careful with his words. “No offense, you know? But, bold and introverted mean different things in Sunnyvale and Shadyside. Here they mean something more along the lines of survivor and traumatized.”

A not completely discreet cough from Kate got him to stop talking. “No, I know, I’m sorry,” Sam was quick to apologize. They weren’t completely wrong. “I know, it’s just, well… I don’t know anything… I mean, what, uh, why…” She ended with a sigh and slumping in her chair, knowing there was no right way to ask the questions she had in mind.

“Constance’s parents died two years ago,” Kate said. She was speaking almost in whispers, but it nearly startled Sam, who didn’t think she’d get any sort of explanation. Afterward, she would hope she hadn’t. “Cindy Berman and husband. Plane crashed. Then, last year… her aunt. Christine killed herself here on the property. Really gives you some perspective into all the fucking rumors, doesn’t it?”

Afterward, Sam was beyond speechless. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a thing to say. That’s when Simon joined in.

“And Josh, he… uh, well, he is not one of the Bermans,” Simon was struggling to explain. “Look, he has his own fucked up past, okay? But I can’t tell you more because Deena would totally kick my ass. It’s their story to tell, you know? The past is the past anyway.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. At least, she hoped she appeared thoughtful. Not too thoughtful though. Just thoughtful enough for someone that has perfectly normal reactions to hearing the name of a very particular co-worker. That momentary panic at least gave her an idea of how to reply to the tough conversation. A change of subject.

“What about you guys?” Sam asked. “How did you end up working at the manor?”

Instantly, Kate seemed to relax. “I just like bossing people around,” she grinned, earning laughter from the other two. “My aunt used to work here. Alice pays well enough. And if you don’t get scared easily, it’s not a bad place to live in.”

Sam smiled at her and then looked at Simon, noticing how he didn’t look half as relaxed as Kate this time. “What can I say?” he smiled in a way that kept a lot hidden. “It pays the bills. It’s close to home. And I fucking love food.”

The au pair decided it wasn’t time to push for more information. Instead, in that brief moment of silence, she turned her head to look through the door at Josh and Constance working on the stairs. They were doing well, but their day was far from over. From her point of view, she had no way of seeing the man standing on the other side of the stairs. Tommy Slater had been standing there for longer than he could remember. He was still wearing his red flannel shirt, still holding on to his axe, still looking impossibly sad, cold, and lonely.

--

As she made her way to the greenhouse, Sam tried to convince herself she wasn’t nervous at all. She had no reason to be anxious at all. Deena Johnson was another one of her coworkers. Sure, maybe she pulled Sam out of a pretty embarrassing breakdown the previous night. Yes, maybe she had an incredible smile that almost painfully reminded Sam of feelings she had spent a lifetime running from. But… she reached the greenhouse before coming up with a reason not to be on edge.

“Hi?” she called out, tentatively stepping inside the place.

“Over here,” a voice replied from the back of the greenhouse. A voice that was like no other Sam had ever heard.

“Um, hi, Deena,” Sam approached her slowly. “It’s me, uh, Sam.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Deena replied, a small smile on her lips. She stood up from the ground, where she had been kneeling down to work on one of the multiple plants that filled this space. “What do you have there?” Deena asked, nodding toward the plate Sam was holding in her hand.

Sam looked down, as if she had forgotten what it was she was carrying. “Simon,” she blurted out.

“Oh. He looks a little bit different than I remember.”

That made Sam laugh nervously. “I mean, it’s your breakfast,” Sam said. “You didn’t come down for breakfast and Simon asked me to bring it to you.”

Deena nodded slowly, and accepted the plate from Sam’s hands. Then she moved to one of the two chairs at the back of the greenhouse and sat down, inspecting her breakfast.

Afterward, Sam might chastise herself for it, but at the moment she couldn’t help but blurt out, “You’re welcome.”

That earned her an annoyed sigh from the gardener. “Listen, you don’t have to do this,” Deena said.

“Do what?” Sam wondered, taking a seat on the spare chair.

“Play nice with us, with me,” Deena explained, nearly whispering the last part.

“I…” Sam stuttered, she was definitely taken off guard. “Well, we are coworkers now, we live under the same roof, I think-”

“I think you have no idea what you got yourself into. This place, and everyone here, is doomed,” Deena interrupted her. “You’re Sunnyvale, we are Shadyside trash. I know your type. I only hope you’ll run away before the kids get attached to you.”

For a moment, all Sam could do was stare, frown silently at Deena, as the other woman nonchalantly got started on her breakfast, as if she hadn’t just put Sam’s entire mood upside down. It was interesting though, the way Deena chose not to mention the fact that she skipped breakfast just to avoid a set of blue eyes that were too dangerously pretty to wander into Shadyside.

Sam jumped out of her seat, and took a deep breath to reign in her feelings. “You don’t know me at all,” was all she said before walking out of the greenhouse.

--

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur of hard work, mostly for the kids. Surprisingly though, at one point they stopped looking so bothered about it. Josh wasn’t the kind to complain out loud, but Sam noticed from the way his shoulders relaxed and his lips almost started to smile. Constance, on the other hand, was pretty content complaining as much as possible, but she seemed happier doing something new, entertaining, and different from studying. They especially seemed to enjoy working outside.

Sam had wanted to avoid the unkind gardener as much as possible, but she had already planned this, so there was no turning back. This was part of the kids’ education, hard work, and Sam was proud of her methods. The one thing she wasn’t proud of was the way the gardener was making her feel. Her plan to avoid Deena had backfired. Deena, Kate, and Simon were lounging in the garden, while Sam guided Josh and Constance on their work.

As hard as she tried, Sam couldn’t stop herself from second-guessing what her new coworkers were talking about. Were they talking about her? Good things? Did Kate and Simon feel the same way as Deena? Were they criticizing her? Those smiles on their faces, was that a good or bad sign? Deena’s posture on that chair, the way she held a cigarette, played with the delicate chain hanging from her neck, teased her young brother, locked eyes with Sam precisely once… did it mean anything at all?

--

The rest of the morning went by easily. Sam dragged Josh and Constance back to the house to continue cleaning, and they had to comply. Tragic as it seemed, they couldn’t complain to anybody. Kate, Simon, Deena, even Alice in the safety of her own home, they all would have supported Sam’s teaching methods at best, would’ve laughed in their faces at worst. 

Things couldn’t be perfect though. Sam would scold herself for letting her guard down at all. She had been in one of the bedrooms, assisting Constance with cleaning the windows, when it happened. One second it was just a window, showing the green grounds around the property, nothing more. Then the next second, all Sam could see was his face. Dark. Just a shadow. Furious. Disgusted. Head tilted. Observing her. Unforgiving. Horribly familiar.

Sam let out a yelp of surprise and stumbled backward. She caught herself before falling down to the floor, but not before Constance saw her. At first, the girl chuckled, but she sounded somewhat genuine when she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m- uh, I’m okay,” Sam replied, voice trembling. “Give me a minute.”

She was out of that room before hearing the girl’s reply. She couldn’t move fast enough, but her legs were trembling. She couldn’t shake that image of her mind. Her own particular ghost. The monster that she hadn’t been able to leave in Sunnyvale. Following her reflection everywhere she went.

Sam stumbled down the stairs and out of the house. She finally found refuge behind one of the big bushes on the sides of the entrance. A place where she could break down in peace. She couldn’t stop the tears, and she could hardly breathe, and she was so scared.

“Are you okay?”

The question makes Sam choke one of her sobs. Of all people that could have caught her at this moment…

“I get it,” Deena cautiously added, from a safe distance away. “I swear I had the same reaction after I met Constance.” She could barely see Sam, hiding behind the bush, but she guessed that privacy was exactly what the blonde wanted. “If Josh’s the problem though, just let me know. You aren’t allowed to, but I can totally kick his ass.” That earned her a tearful chuckle from Sam, which was a very good sign. “Just so you know though,” Deena added, “That’s usually my spot for having an emotional breakdown. Now I have to go to this other corner and there are spiders and shit in there, no privacy at all.”

This time, there was a genuine laugh coming from Sam. The tears had stopped, and she managed to find the strength to look over her shoulder, show her face to Deena and say, “Thank you.”

Deena softly shook her head, dismissing Sam’s need to thank her. “You’re doing better than most people could,” she said. Seeing Sam smile sadly, acknowledging her tear-streaked face, Deena insisted, “I mean it.”

There was a pause then. Sam opened her mouth, desperately wishing she could say something else. All she wanted was to ask Deena how she could be so kind and so cruel as if a switch was flipped inside her. But Sam feared that saying more than two words would make her cry again. Deena took that as her cue to go on with her day.

“Back to work then,” Deena said, starting to march back into the house. “Stay strong, Sunnyvale.”

Definitely done with her tears, Sam was having trouble holding back her smile. She tried to sneak another glance at the gardener, but Deena was gone, leaving behind only a pleasant warmth in Sam’s heart and a firm smile on her face.

--

Nine years of teaching had taught Sam a lot. She knew how to handle kids, that was for sure. The unruly ones, the proud ones, the ones that struggled, and the ones that shined brightly. Simon had been right when he said she had never worked with kids like Josh and Constance. Still, she was prepared to deal with Josh picking up spiders from the garden, and trying to scare her. She didn’t lose her ground even when Constance’s attitude sometimes made Sam feel like she was the teenager out of the two of them.

What she did that day wasn’t the worst Sam had to do for one of her students. Still, it was pretty awkward explaining to Deena how her younger brother had massacred the rose bushes to give the flowers to Sam.

When the two women arrived at the scene of the crime, it was a huge mess. Josh had picked a few roses for Sam and destroyed the rest. He must have been pretty aggressive to earn that small limp he had when he walked toward Sam a few minutes earlier.

The teenager fell to second place in the forefront of Sam’s mind though. She was slightly more preoccupied about the furious gardener gripping the broken stem of a rose as if it were a knife.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Deena yelled, not for the first time in the past minute, and tried to walk away.

“Hey,” Sam stopped her with a firm tone and a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll deal with him, it’s my job.”

Deena took a deep breath. She was pretty much shaking with anger still. She pursed her lips, suddenly aware of the way she had been yelling at the innocent au pair for god knows how long now. She wasn’t good at apologizing though. She slumped her shoulders and exhaled.

“It’s just… he should know better than this,” Deena said bitterly. “We are lucky to be living here. He knows he has to stay out of trouble.” She looked up into Sam’s blue eyes and the careful attention she found there nearly turned her breathless. “That was the deal,” Deena added softly, taking a moment to gulp nervously. “I made a deal with Cindy Berman years ago, when we had nothing. Josh and I could live here, and I’d pay her by working on the grounds of the manor.”

Sam nodded slowly, with a barely-there smile that let Deena know she had listened, and understood. “It’s okay,” Sam said. “I don’t think it’ll be a big deal. I won’t say anything if you don’t.” The two women exchanged a smile. “It’s just a few flowers-”

“It’s not just a few flowers,” Deena protested immediately.

“I know, I know,” Sam quickly said. She was tiptoeing the line between fearing Deena’s temper and being endeared by how protective she was of her plants. “They’re also a weapon, apparently.”

Deena tilted her head in confusion. “Ah,” she said when she looked down at the rose’s stem she was still holding in her hand. She couldn’t say anything else though. Sam had taken the initiative to reach out and gently pry open Deena’s fist to take the stem away. That’s when they both noticed there had been thorns involved. “Shit,” Deena cursed.

“Um,” Sam mumbled pensively as she stared at the couple of red spots on Deena’s hand. “You know, to be a teacher, you have to learn a thing or two about first aid. Do you want help?”

Deena was already shaking her head. Her wild curls shook with her movement. “No, it’s okay- fuck!” She exclaimed in pain the moment she tried to close her hand again. Now there were a few drops of blood on her palm. “Fine,” she grumbled. 

--

Deena was so upset about having someone bandaging her hand, that Sam found the whole process much easier than she had expected. It was a little bit like dealing with a kid, not that she would ever admit such a thing to the gardener. 

“So, you really like those roses, huh?” Sam asked while cleaning up the little wounds in Deena’s palm.

“They’re some of my favorites from the entire property,” Deena shrugged. “I like all these plants more than most people, that’s for sure.”

Sam nodded, picking up the bandages. “Why would he do this?” she asked. “Josh, I mean. He doesn’t seem to be the type to vandalize the gardens.”

“He isn’t. There was one bad fucking influence and…” Deena replied. Her words were hiding a lot, but her resentful tone warned the au pair against making any further questions. Instead, Deena looked up and added, “or maybe… he just really likes you, Sunnyvale.”

Sam laughed at that, and ducked her head to avoid those gorgeous brown eyes. Surprisingly, she decided to admit something right then and there in the otherwise empty kitchen of the manor while holding on to Deena’s hand. “You do know I’m not even from Sunnyvale, right?” 

“What?” Deena asked. She looked caught off guard for the first time since Sam met her.

“You guys don’t fact-check your gossip, huh?” Sam chuckled. “I was born here, in Shadyside. I moved away when I was little, after my father died, but… I guess, now I’m trying to find my home, you know?”

“Right,” Deena replied.

She blinked slowly, and her eyebrows furrowed into a small frown as she took in the information, the significance of Sam sharing it with her, and the unknown reason why the word home sounded so perfect coming from Sam’s smiling lips.

After a brief silence that felt like it stretched for hours, Deena cleared her throat. “Well, uh, thank you, for giving me a hand,” she said. The mention of her hand made both women realize that this entire time they hadn’t let go of each other’s hands. They pulled away from each other quickly, but nothing could have wiped the smiles off their faces. “It’s not the worst I’ve dealt with so I better get back to work. I guess I’ll see you around… Sunnyvale.”

Sam didn’t even attempt to hold back her grin. Distantly, she wished she wasn’t blushing too much, but that was it. She turned around to watch Deena walk away from the kitchen. Then she was rewarded with the sight of Deena looking back at her once before crossing the doorway.

When she was alone again, Sam leaned her back against the counter and sighed. It was a mixture of contentment and exhaustion. She had tried her best to maintain a good impression in front of Deena, and now she could finally relax. She was starting to understand her better too, how Deena’s boldness came from a good place of being protective over her brother, and maybe even over the whole property. Sam’s exhaustion though, didn’t come from anywhere near Deena, the teens, or the house. She was only realizing how absurdly debilitating it had been to keep up a false version of herself at all times during those years in Sunnyvale. Slowly but surely, she was leaving all that behind.

Sam took a deep breath and straightened up. Then she started to walk out of the kitchen following the path Deena had walked a minute ago. She didn’t have to look back before crossing the doorway, she just kept walking. This way, she missed Ryan Torres’s presence in one corner of the kitchen. Lonesome, unknown, fumbling with the knife he still carried at all times.

--

“Josh! Constance! You guys are way too old for this kind of game!” Sam was yelling as she walked around the house. She didn’t understand how Kate hadn’t heard her yet.

She wasn’t scared. Just because they had turned off all the lights and she was only barely familiar with the house didn’t mean she should be scared. The kids wanted to improvise a game of hide and seek to avoid going to bed? Fine. Sam wasn’t scared of the dark. In the darkness she couldn’t see her reflection and whatever cursed company she would find there. If she had to drag a couple of teenagers to their beds from their ears then so be it. 

When Sam caught sight of the curtains of one room moving strangely, she hurried towards it and pulled at it, but there was nobody there. She sighed, disappointed, stressed, but not scared, not yet. She heard footsteps behind her, and when she turned around, she distinctly heard the front door of the house open. Chills ran through Sam’s spine. It was unsettling, but not too bad, right? She would be deeply upset if she had to chase a pair of teenagers out in the middle of a storm, but it could be worse.

It could be worse… Maybe it was much worse than she imagined. That was the thought going through Sam’s mind when, very slowly, she turned back around to face the window again. At first, it looked like a blur. Then, she feared it was that same ghostly silhouette that followed her everywhere. Somehow, it was worse. Somehow, the figure moved closer and it became clear. There was a man standing on the other side of the window. Tall. Dark hair. Hazel eyes. Smile that never, under any circumstances, would have been mistaken for friendly.

Sam took a step backward, so did he. Then she took off running. Not in the direction some might have expected. She wasn’t running away to hide. She ran out of that room, taking the fireplace poker from its stand and gripping it with force as she rushed out of the house.

“I’m going to call the police!” Sam yelled while the rain poured down on her. “I’m going to call the fucking police!”

She ran toward the window where she’d seen that man. He was nowhere to be seen but, as if it was all part of a pattern, she stumbled across the worst possible scenario.

“Sam?” Josh mumbled. He was just standing there, shaking with cold, drenched from the rain… then he just crumbled down, falling to the ground, unconscious.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 117

MASTERLIST

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Word Count: 2,300ish

Summary: No summary...... I just hope this chapter makes sense.... it’s a lot of jumping....

“Daisy!” Y/N shouted, Coulson and the others running up behind her. “Daisy!”

“Where did she go?” Coulson asked.

“I don’t…” Black spots filled Y/N’s vision. “I don’t know… Coulson, I…” She reached out to him. “Something’s…” then she fainted.

Y/N woke up on the floor, somewhere. Blinking, long and hard, she pushed herself up and looked around. 

“What the…” she muttered. Y/N quickly realized she was in the Mirror Dimension. “What am I doing back here?” She pushed herself up to the standing position, seeing the Ancient One on the other side. “What is going on?”

“The Stones have asked that I finish your training, since I don’t have much longer,” the Ancient One responded.

“What do you mean by ‘don’t have much longer’?”

“My time is almost up. Which means the time you will be needed will soon follow.”

“I’m not ready. I just… I’m not ready.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Rogers. But you don’t have a choice.”

~~~

SIX MONTHS LATER…

May was waiting for the Zephyr’s ramp to lower, Mack and Coulson walking down it.

“How long has it been?” She asked.

“Six weeks in the air,” Coulson answered. “Only the quinjet touched down.”

“Is that a record for Zephyr One?”

“It is. It was supposed to be even longer. You know who called us in?”

“I do.” She handed them a tablet before leading them away.

“You? Okay. Now I know something’s up. Is it Y/N? Has anything changed?”

“Simmons is carefully monitoring her. We’re lucky that General Talbot’s on our side to keep her here cause the Director is itching to hand her over as a sign of good faith to the government.”

“No news though?” Mack wondered.

“We did see good signs yesterday and this morning. But we’ve seen good signs before.”

“She’s going to wake up soon,” Coulson said with such confidence. “I know it.”

~~~

SIX MONTHS AGO…

“I didn’t have time to explain the nature of the Reality Stone before you needed to use it,” the Ancient One stated. “You are able to change the reality of what people see and what’s been done.”

“Like I did with those agents,” Y/N said.

“Exactly.”

“Which Stone is next, then?”

“We’re not moving onto the next Stone until you’ve mastered the powers you have. It is important that you have mastered them so that you can be at your full strength when the time comes.”

“What if I don’t want to? What if I don’t want to fight? I want to be done fighting…. Fighting has cost me everything… the life I once had, in multiple ways.”

“You weren’t meant to live out life in the 40’s. You were meant to be here and now.”

“I don’t care… I don’t want this anymore.”

“Then I can wait. I still have enough time. And I can keep you here until you’ve decided to come to your senses.”

“You can’t be serious. You can’t keep me here!”

“Oh, but I can.” Then she disappeared, leaving Y/N alone in the Mirror Dimension.

“Oh, come on! Let me go!”

~~~

FOUR MONTHS AGO…

“Are you ready yet?” The Ancient One asked, appearing out of no where.

“You can’t just keep me in here!” Y/N shouted. “I’m not a prisoner!”

“I will keep you in here as long as it takes.”

“Ugh!! How long have I even been in here?!”

“Two months.”

“Two months?! How am I not dead?”

“Your friends, and the Stones, are keeping your body safe. You will be able to return to it, once you have completed the training.”

“I told you, I don’t want this.” Y/N shook her head. “I never wanted this. Can’t the Stones just pick someone else?”

“I’m afraid that’s not how this works.” The Ancient One watched as Y/N paced. “I would have thought that this time alone would be helpful to you.”

“Yeah? In what why?”

“To be able to grieve and morn about the loss of your friends, the life you wished you had, and your child… To be able to forgive yourself and those around you.”

“I have forgiven Steve for fighting Tony. And Tony for fighting Steve. I have forgiven Bucky for killing Howard. I have forgiven them of all their faults, because it wasn’t all theirs… it was mine… I will never be able to forgive myself. I could have tried harder to keep my family from being torn apart, to keep my baby alive! So… there’s no need to forgive everyone else. It’s already done… the only person I will never be able to forgive is myself.”

~~~

NOW…

“Hey, Y/N,” Coulson greeted, stopping by the cell Y/N was being kept in for safe keeping. She was hooked up to many monitors and tubes. “Sorry it’s been so long. The Director’s been keeping me busy.” He chuckled sadly to him as he sat down on a chair beside her bed. “I can only imagine how mad you’re going to be when you find out I stepped down… I just… Between you and Daisy. I couldn’t keep my focus…”

He sighed. “I’m headed to Los Angeles. Trying to hunt her down… she’s a ghost, Y/N. She slips through our fingers every time. I wish… Oh, how I wish things were back to the way they were before. I don’t necessarily know how far I want to go, but just before… Stark keeps contacting me, asking me if I’ve seen or heard anything. I think he knows I’m lying. But I think he understands it’s to protect you.”

“I’m sorry that I can’t spend more time with you. But I do have to go. They… the Director had a shoot to kill order placed on Daisy. I have to go help her some how.” He leaned over, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Please, wake up soon. I don’t know how much longer I can see you like this.”

~~~

TWO MONTHS AGO…

“I’m ready,” Y/N huffed. “Let’s just get this over with… I’ve seen what the Stones can do. I understand how important it is to stop them, if what I’ve seen will happen… I’ll train, I’ll master the powers they want me to. But them I’m out of here.”

“Understood,” the Ancient One responded with a nod. “First, let’s practice what you’ve learned with the Mind, Space, and Reality Stones.”

Y/N and the Ancient One worked to improve her current knowledge of the powers. Especially where it came to losing her energy. It took two weeks before the Ancient One believed she was ready to learn more.

“The Time Stone,” the Ancient One began, showing the Stone that was kept around her neck, “with it you will be able to change time. Not drastically. But up to a few minutes.”

“Like, rewind?” Y/N questioned.

“Exactly. You can focus is it on large areas or just a single object.” She took out an apple and took a few bites of it. She held it out. “Now, try it with this. Bring it back to it’s original state.”

With a deep breath, Y/N held out her hand and focused on the object. Slowly, the bites began to fill back in until the apple was whole again.

“Very good,” the Ancient One praised. “Now bring it back to where it was when I challenged you.”

Y/N nodded before focusing again on the apple. The bites that had disappeared, appeared again.

“Good,” the Ancient One said. “Again.”

The Time Stone took a week to master. It was easier for Y/N since it was with her. The next Stone was the Power Stone.

“This Stone is one of the most destructive forces in the universe,” the Ancient One explained. “If you tried hard enough, you could destroy whole planets.”

“Okay… I don’t think I like that…” Y/N shook her head slightly.

“Channeling it will also enhances your strength and durability during a fight.”

The Ancient One and Y/N fought in order to test her strength and durability. Y/N wished she had been taught to channel that Stone earlier, it would have been of great help. Y/N practiced destroying smaller things, like weapons. The power would come out of her hands in the form of purple beams. She worked on this one for weeks, until the Ancient One finally decided she was ready for the last Stone. The Soul Stone.

“The Soul Stone is the most hidden and unknown out of all the Stones,” the Ancient One stated. “Very few know it’s location, or the powers it possesses. I don’t even know it’s location, but I do know the price it requires to retrieve it.”

“And that is?”

“A soul for a soul… This Stone will allow you to conjure the spiritual representation of those who are dead.”

“What?”

“And it will be them. Not the Stone fooling you.”

“Like… I could see my parents? An-and Howard? And… and my baby?”

“Yes.”

Tears sprung in Y/N’s eyes. “How? How do I do it?”

“This is the one Stone I cannot help you learn how to use. You must learn it yourself.”

“No.” Y/N shook her head. “You must know. Please.”

“I’m sorry… your training is done. It is now time for you to go.”

“No! Please. Just tell me!”

“I have told you everything I know. It is now up to you to find the answers you seek. And the peace you long for.”

“No, wait. Please don’t—“

~~~

PRESENT DAY REALITY…

“Here’s the Mapping-Action Eyewear you requested,” Simmons said to May, carrying a tablet and a container towards her in the training room. “Should help your team in case of a blind takedown.”

“Great,” May replied, taking the container. “Thanks.”

“I need you to sign for it.” Simmons held out the tablet.

May didn’t look pleased. “I don’t get the new color-coded security-level rainbow of… What’s it called?”

“The Spectrum of Security.”

“Why do I, level red, have to go through you, level orange, to request hardware? Shouldn’t red be higher than orange?”

“Well, orange encompasses both red and yellow, so… It’s hard to explain, but the Director didn’t want to use numbers because he didn’t want any team member to feel less than.”

May looked down at the tablet, filling it out. “Well, you do have a higher clearance than me.”

“Only in most instances.”

Not impressed, May handed the tablet back over. “I feel less than.”

Simmons took the tablet as May started to walk away, she followed. “Hey, we just had a report come in. A death in a hospital in Los Angeles.” May turned around. “Suspicious circumstances. Suspect is an Asian female.”

“You think it might be Daisy.”

“I’m going to look into it. I just wondered if you’d heard anything from your law enforcement contacts?”

“I’m mostly in the dark these days. Why don’t you ask the Director? Since you’re one of the few people allowed or willing to do that.”

“May—“ Simmons was halted by an alarm going off on her phone. Looking down, her eyes widened. “It’s Y/N.”

May and Simmons ran down to the cell, where Y/N’s monitors were going crazy. As they grew closer, they noticed tears slipping down her face.

“No…” Y/N mumbled. “Please… wait… don’t go!”

“What’s happening?” May asked.

“I think she’s waking up,” Simmons said. “Y/N. Y/N, can you hear me?”

“I’m calling Coulson.” May stepped out of the room.

“I was just alerted to the situation,” a man in a suit came in. “How can I help?”

“Director,” Simmons greeted. “There’s nothing I can think of.”

“No… please…” Y/N mumbled. She suddenly shot up, eyes wide and gasping for air. 

“Y/N, Y/N,” Simmons called, trying to get her to calm. 

“Agent Rogers,” the new Director greeted. “I need you to calm down.”

Y/N met Simmons eyes before looking at the stranger in the room. “Who the hell are you?” She breathily asked.

“I’m Jeffrey Mace, the new Director of SHIELD. I’m here to help you and transition you to life with the Sokovia Accords.”

“The… the Accords? Where’s Coulson?” Y/N looked around. “How long have I been out of it?”

“Six months,” Simmons answered.

“S-six months?” Y/N looked to Simmons, who nodded. “And… and you thought that I was going to wake up and just be okay with signing the Accords?” She looked at the new Director.

“You don’t have a choice,” the Director stated. “It’s the law—“

Y/N interrupted with a chuckle. “That’s where you’re wrong… There’s always a choice. Plus… what re you going to do to stop me from leaving and not signing?”

“You should be familiar with this room, Agent Rogers. Your powers cannot be used in this room.”

“I am not an Inhuman. My powers come from other sources. This room has never been able to stop me. Did they not tell you that?”

“Y/N,” Simmons warned. “Just listen, hear him out.”

“No. If Coulson isn’t the Director anymore, then I don’t want to be a part of SHIELD… I’m sorry Jemma. Tell the others good bye for me.”

“Y/N— No!” May shouted, coming back into the room as Y/N opened a portal underneath herself and fell through it. “Damn it!”

“I thought you said this room stops powers?” The Director questioned Simmons. 

“We never said whose powers,” Simmons answered. 

“You just assumed it would work on her,” May added.

“I’ll let General Talbot know she’s gone,” the Director stated. “He’ll get the government searching for her as well.”

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