#i thought it just like. vanished and went somewhere else as spiders do but he was apparently in my room the whole time........

[steakout-05]

i was so brave a couple days ago. there was a baby huntsman spider in my room and i totally didn't fumble trying to catch it 3 entire times while trying to lure it in and out of a box all while screaming and going "whAT THE FUCJ WHAT" whenever it moved even a little bit. in which the reason i was trying to catch it was because it randomly appeared on a box right next to my bed and i knew if i didn't catch it i wouldn't be able to sleep. nope. totally wasn't genuinely frightened by a tiny itty bitty little guy that could literally fit in the palm of my hand 15 times. whaaaat me? scared by a tiny little spider??? psh no wayyyyy man no way

(after i did this i was slightly shaken up and extremely worried there was another much bigger one in my bed and i felt like there were bugs crawling on me until i fell asleep)

[lulublack90]

Prompt 24 - Intent

@jegulus-microfic August 24, Word count 920

Previous part First Wolfstar part

Regulus flew into James’s arms when they met again. 

“We got it!” He whispered excitedly after they'd slipped out of the Manor, unseen. 

“Well done, love. Let’s get out of here,” James nodded to the others and they all disapparated. 

They hadn’t gone back to their camp. The plan was to go somewhere else first and destroy the Horcrux. They were somewhere in the Brecon Beacons. The wind howled around the wild mountain range. Their robes whipped around their legs and threatened to be torn off completely. 

“We need somewhere more covered!” Sirius called out, his voice stolen by the wind. 

“Come with me!” Remus yelled, holding out his hands to them. They all grabbed on. Regulus felt the familiar squeezing sensation as Remus apparated them again. 

The wind stopped, and they were inside a wooden shed. 

“Where are we?” Marcus asked, picking up a dusty watering can. 

“My da’s old potting shed.” Remus shrugged. “It’s out of the wind at least. Regulus moved to the sturdy-looking bench and moved aside the collection of spider web-coated seed trays and mini-plant pots before taking the notebook out of his pocket. 

For the first time, he looked at it properly. It was definitely muggle in origin. It had a date printed on the front, 1943. So it was a diary, he thought. He opened it hoping to find some hidden secrets. It was blank. The only writing was the slightly smudged name on the first page. T. M. Riddle. Well, at least they had the right item. 

“Damn, that thing smells awful,” Marcus complained, holding his nostrils closed with his thumb and forefinger. Regulus ignored him and put the diary on the workbench. He took the box containing the basilisk fang out as well and carefully extracted it. 

He held it up gingerly to his brother. 

“Do you want to do the honours? You were the one to get it after all,” 

“Narcissa literally threw it at me. I wouldn’t exactly say I got it,” Sirius barked out a laugh, but carefully took the fang. He held it above the diary. He was about to plunge it into the diary when a shimmering form began to break free of the pages. 

“Quick, just do it!” Regulus urged Sirius on. “Before whatever that is can fully form. Sirius stabbed down with intent. He stabbed the fang so hard it went straight through the diary and stuck in the wood beneath. 

A loud scream escaped from within the pages as waves of ink flooded out of the diary, coating Sirius from his arms down and covering the dusty floor. Then everything was still and the destroyed Horcrux lay there, just a diary again, albeit a diary with a large steaming hole through the middle of it. 

It took Sirius a second to wrench the fang from the wood, but once he had, he returned it to its box and handed it back to Regulus. 

“Shit, Moony, the fangs burnt through the potting table. How pissed is your dad going to be when he sees it?” Sirius grimaced after he’d vanished all the spilt ink from himself and the shed. 

“Not much,” Remus replied sadly. “He doesn’t use it any more, not since Mum died,” Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus and whispered what sounded like sweet words in his ear, but Regulus couldn’t make them out. 

“Okay, let’s go home,” Sirius said as he pulled away from Remus, but didn’t let go of his hand. James grabbed Regulus’s hand and Marcus rolled his eyes. 

“Because you can’t apparate without holding hands. Bleh!” He fake gagged and dissapparated. 

“Poor Marcus, he needs to get laid,” Sirius snickered, before bringing Remus’s hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles and apparating away. 

“Just us, love,” James said, crowding Regulus against the neglected shed’s wall. Regulus surged forward and attached himself to James’s face. It was over. They’d found and destroyed another Horcrux.

“Can we go back to Potter Manor?” He asked, between gasping breaths. James groaned into his mouth. 

“Oi! Who’s in there?!” A voice shouted from outside the shed. 

“Shit, Lyall!” James cursed. He wrapped his arms around Regulus more securely and apparated them to Potter Manor. He pulled out his mirror and called into it. “Hey, Padfoot,” James waited for a moment, and then Sirius’s voice came through. 

“Why are you calling me on the mirror? Where have you gone? Have you gone back to Potter Manor?!”

“Er, yeah, change of plans. We need to check the library again. See you in the morning, yeah. Oh, and can you tell Remus that Lyall came out and yelled at us? He didn’t see who was in the shed, but he might have gone in by now. Love ya,” He blew a huge kiss at the mirror and snapped it shut.

“He’s going to kill you for that, you know,” Regulus couldn’t hide the grin spreading across his face. 

“Nah, he loves me too much. He might take a page out of your book though and hex my bollocks off the next time he sees me,” He grimaced. 

“I’d like to see him try,” Regulus narrowed his eyes dangerously. James chuckled, and they walked into Potter Manor, greeted by an irate Flitsy, who had not been expecting them and had nothing ready. It took James a good twenty minutes to calm her down and promise that it wasn't a problem. Regulus headed upstairs. He needed a shower after everything they’d been through the last few hours. 

Next part

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Things You Said When it was Over

Somewhere else, anger, a truce, and fight, and a happy ending

cw Jon's typical level of wanting to die but not actually wanting to die, fighting, mentions of vomit but no vomit, mentions of stabbing, mentions of stitches, losing time

Spoilers for 200

Let me know if you enjoyed!  Stop back in a week for another fic. I am accepting Things You Said prompt list prompts for Jon, Martin, and/or Tim!  I have two prompts in my inbox and both have been back written, but if you are wondering if I have ignored your prompt, chances are I have not!

Being unwound hurts.  Unwound.  Rewritten.  Removed.  Pulled and crumpled and twisted and extracted.  Spun in with a web of tapes.  

Masses of crinkling magnetic strips.  Unsure where voice, and web, and body, and blood intersect.  

Woven and ripped through that careful crevasse.  

And it hurts.  Much more than being stabbed.  With that awful scratch and skittering of strands being eaten by an eager, hungry machine.  

As time and entities and two people are chewed through and eaten with all the care of a faulty cassette player.  

It’s a shriek of static, the thrumming whine of machinery wound wrong.  The deafening scrabble of unknowable and terrible things going Elsewhere.  Loud enough that the explosion doesn’t even register.  Just a background whine to the overpowering white noise of the end of the world moving.  

And Jon wakes up.  

With a gasp.  Small.  And so painfully normal.  Like his POTS flaring up and waking up in the break room.  Again.  

That hasn’t happened since the world ended.  Since things went wrong.  

A strange thing to reminisce about.  POTS isn’t something he thought he’d miss.  And… well… he doesn’t?  Didn’t?  Doesn’t know the tense to use because there was that slim, slim chance that everything is actually okay.  The smallest, most fragile idea that things are back to that idyllic normal of the safehouse.  

He doesn't move for a while.  Focusing on breathing.  It's cold.  He isn't sure if the air is cold or if he's experiencing cold himself, or if this is just a new way of feeling pain.  He can't tell.  

His chest hurts, but he can't make himself check for blood.  Moving is still a little too beyond him.  

He wants to open his eyes, and look for Martin, but he doesn't want this to go away.  Because if he's alive, then Martin must be too, right?  Martin was much more likely to survive this.  Not being... you know, stabbed?  

But what if only Jon is somewhere else?  What if this is somewhere Martin couldn't follow?

In that case, Jon would rather not be alive at all.  If he doomed all the other universes because he couldn't go through with it in the end... if he gave it all up for Martin... he can't live with that.  He can't.  More than not wanting to, he just... Can't.  

Then again everything is... kind of numb so he can't actually be sure that Martin isn't there... but he is never that lucky.  Jon never gets the privilege of the best case scenario.  

Breathing still hurts.  But he doesn’t think it hurts in the “breathing around a knife” sort of way.  Then again, after bearing witness to the pain of Everyone on the planet, a single wound is hardly a drop in that ocean with all the other pain just Gone.  

“Jon!  Jon!  Can you hear me?”

He cracks his eyes open, and is met with the safe house ceiling.  Eyes struggling to focus, trying to find the source of the voice that certainly sounds like Martin, but Jon is too sore to move.  The force of it hitting him out of nowhere, without him even trying to lift a finger.  Senses filling the void of 7 billion people screaming with the voices of scars and joints and exhaustion and hunger.  

The best response he can manage is a wheezy groan.  

Wheezy?

Does he need his inhaler again?  Did Martin pack that even?  He hasn’t needed it… since… the world ended.  

Everything’s blurry.  Where did his glasses go?  

“Oh thank Christ!”  

Jon makes to sit up, but stars burst in his vision, and his arms give out.  

Martin’s hands fluttering around him.  Flying to his chest.  

Jon carefully reaches for his chest also.  There is a hole in his shirt.  Well.  A lot of holes, but he’s only looking for one.  

He feels tacky blood on its way to drying.  And as he carefully probes further, he finds a tidy line of stitches in slightly sticky thread, that he has a sinking suspicion is spider’s silk.  A final gift.  A thank you.  He wants to vomit.  

But Martin’s hand catches his, stopping him from potentially hurting himself.  Jon stretches his free hand to cup Martin’s cheek.  He finds it wet.  

It occurs to him that Martin has been crying.  Is crying?  Jon can’t tell.  His face is too far away to see more than the fuzzy outline.  (Not that Martin’s face is actually far away, Jon just has shit vision).  

Crying, present tense, Jon assesses, when Martin shakes with a suppressed, silenced sob.  “How could you do that Jon?  Fuck!  I mean… I knew you would.  But how could you do that?  You Lied to me.  You could have Died!  And I know you didn’t.  But Jon, I… I can’t.  You Promised me!  You Promised!  I…  How could you make me do that?  To you?  How could you?  I…  Jon, how could you?”  Martin’s crying too hard to get anything else out, and Jon still hasn’t managed to find enough breath and energy to speak.  

Jon whines.  Too exhausted to even sign.  

Martin’s hand on his chest.  Still trying to keep the blood in, even when there is no blood trying to get out anymore.  Martin’s usually warm hand icy (Jon hopes with fear, and not the Lonely, but he can’t know.  Firstly because he can’t break another promise, Secondly because he doesn’t think he can Know anymore, and thinking about trying makes his stomach drop.)  

And Jon just… can’t.  He rolls on his side away from Martin.  Curling up tightly.  Against the angry words and the guilt, and the rest of the guilt, and the pain in his body.  He’s doomed infinite worlds.  He’s betrayed everyone who ever cared about him… who he ever cared about.  He caused so much pain and he sat back and watched.  It seared through him the entire time of unknown and uncountable quantity that made up the apocalypse.  

All the words that he could never say, the guilt he could never express, all his own fear that had been just as much a meal for his god choking him.  

And he braces for the hate and the rest of the yelling, and everything else he deserves.  Everything he brought upon himself, one poor choice after another.  

Squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself gone and wills that if he doesn’t just vanish out of everything that Martin will get done yelling quick so maybe Jon can grovel some comfort out of him, even if it isn’t forgiveness, it will be better than the aching nothing that has been threatening to overtake him since he tasted the bitter words of the false statement.  

Martin more than deserves his anger, but Jon can’t take it.  He’s literally held together by spider silk.  He’s worn and tired and battered.  Guilt plunging deeper than Martin’s knife ever could.  

Not that he’s not grateful for this time with Martin.  Not that he doesn’t deserve every centimeter of guilt piling up on him.  He deserves all the hate.  And all the anger.  

He’s spineless, and he knows it.  He Almost did the right thing, but he couldn’t.  And he almost lost everything he cares about.  And now he probably still has.  And… and what?  What now?  Martin elected to stay with him despite it all, on one stupid, slim chance that things could be okay, but how can they be okay ever again, with this aching hole of fault and blame and regret and shame pulling at his core.  And he wants to be pulled open and rip it out.  He wants to enjoy what he has, but he can’t and Martin has every reason to hate him.  

He’s lost time.  

Martin’s calling his name, and his limbs are stiff and numb from bracing for an impact that never came.  

“Jon.  Christ.  Jon!  I’m… I… I didn’t mean to scare you.  I… I don’t hate you.  I love you, I promise.  …I’m… angry.  And we need to talk about this.  But… but I think that should wait until you’re up for talking, and I’m up for not crying for ya know, more than five minutes at a time.  ….And Fuck.  I just… well.  You owe me a good screaming at, too.  And Goddamn it, you were just doing what you thought was right… and you tried to tell us… tell me.  I’m not saying you were right, because you weren’t… but I’m not saying you were wrong.  And.  Well.  We’re both here.  Please.  I’m sorry for yelling.  Can I touch you?”

Jon nods jerkily.  Because he can’t stand the distance between them.  He doesn’t care if touch can get him hurt, he’d take hurt over the space between them.  

Martin holds him like he’s precious and Jon cries.  

Harder than he has in a very long time.  

And when he’s done he’s empty and shaking and filthy.  

They shower and sleep.  In the morning they can shout at each other for broken promises and wandering off, and not communicating enough, and not listening when the other is trying to communicate.  And one leaves in a huff, and one cries himself sick in the bathroom, and there is hugging and a trip to town for tea and figuring out if this is the universe they saved or one of the infinite they doomed.  And there are years for the aftershocks of those arguments to bounce around, losing energy in the form of heat: tea, hugs, hot showers, overeager workouts, kisses a little too rough, hugs a little too tight, a strange combination between fierce affection, and things a little too much to make them feel like they are accomplishing something.  

And they can grow whole once more.  

And they can grow old.  

[q-gorgeous]

Falling Out

fanfiction

ao3

Sam and Paulina are assigned as partners for a school project.

word count: 2581

for @phandom-phriend

heyo bro

“I don’t get what the big deal is.”

Sam stared at Paulina, who was standing in the middle of the hallway twirling her hair between her fingers. 

“You don’t get what the big deal is? Your boyfriend literally just beat someone up!”

Paulina scoffs. “He’s not my boyfriend! And that kid was a loser anyway. His family is just a bunch of freaks.”

Sam looked at Danny who was still laying on the floor, his breath wheezing from when it was knocked out of him. “He’s not a loser.” Sam mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Paulina looked over her nails.

“He’s not a loser!” Sam stomped up to Paulina, her face inches from the other girl’s. “He’s really nice and actually likes hearing about things I want to talk about! Unlike you.”

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Paulina turned her nose up into the air. “That’s because all you like is that spooky ooky goth stuff. No one wants to listen to you talk about ghosts and spiders and witches.”

“He does.”

“That’s because he’s a loser.” Paulina poked a finger into Sam’s chest. “Why don’t you just drop him and this freaky goth phase and come hang out with your real friends.”

“You are not my friend.”

Paulina froze. “What?”

“I don’t know what bug crawled it’s way up your ass Paulina, but if this is how you’re going to treat people now I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

She watched as Sam walked away from her and helped Danny off the ground. Sam whispered a few things to him and he nodded. They began to limp their way to the nurses office. 

Paulina clenched her fists together and her throat tightened. That’s fine. She didn’t need Sam. She had plenty of other friends. What did one falling out matter? She turned around and stomped her way in the opposite direction towards the cafeteria.

She didn’t need Sam Manson. 

QQQQQ

“But Mr. Lancer!” Paulina whined, her hands resting on the top of her desk as she stood up in protest. 

“I’m sorry Ms. Sanchez, but you and Ms. Manson will be partners for this project.”

Sam raised her hand. “I’d rather do my project on my own than work with her.”

Lancer pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two are partners for this project, end of discussion.”

“But-” Both girls chorused. 

“That’s enough! Ms. Sanchez, take your seat.”

Paulina huffed and crossed her arms as she sat down. Why did Lancer have to assign her and Sam to work together? Hasn’t he figured out that they hate each other yet?

Her gaze flicked over to where Sam was sitting. She was angrily scratching something into her notebook. She paused and her eyes met Paulina’s. They stared at each other for a moment before Paulina sneered in her direction and looked away. 

Paulina sat angrily stewing in her seat until the bell rang. She grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, heading out of the classroom at a brisk pace. She was putting the combination into her locker and had just gotten it open when Sam walked up and pushed it closed. 

“What do you want, Manson?” Paulina snapped. 

Sam rolled her eyes. “We’re supposed to work on that project together, remember? When are we going to meet for it?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you just do it on your own and write my name on it.” Paulina twisted the dial on her locker again. 

“Nu uh. If we’re forced to be partners you’re gonna help with it.”

Paulina groaned and opened her locker again. “I guess we can start working on it today after school.”

“Great. I’ll meet you at your house when school is over then.”

“What?” Paulina squawked and turned towards Sam. “Why my house?”

“I don’t want my parents thinking we’re friends again.”

Paulina just stared at her but frowned when Sam pushed the locker closed again and started walking away. She clenched her fists. As if they would ever be friends again. 

The rest of the day passed by both too quick and slow at the same time. She dreaded having Sam come over and having to talk to her so much that even though the day dragged on and on, when she was at home and a knock sounded on the door it felt like she had just been standing at her locker. 

Paulina opened the front door, a bored look on her face when her eyes met Sam’s. They stood there for a moment before Paulina waved her in. Sam stepped in, looking around and Paulina closed the door behind her. 

“So what is this project we’re supposed to be doing anyways?” Paulina led the way to the kitchen where her backpack sat on the table.

Sam sighed. “You weren’t even paying attention when he went over it?”

“I was too busy being angry at Lancer.”

Rolling her eyes, Sam set her backpack on the table and pulled some papers out. “He wants us to find a screenplay to go over. We have to read it and analyze it like we would for a book in class but he wants us to perform part of it in class.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know Paulina!” Sam threw her hands up in the air. “Why do they make us do anything? Now pick one from this list.” She threw a piece of paper at Paulina. “This is a list of plays I thought we would both be interested in.”

Paulina stared at Sam, stunned that she’d even consider Paulina’s interests when they clearly hated each other. Slowly, she looked down at the paper, her eyes scanning over the list. One popped out to her.

“Isn’t this one a musical? Does that count?”

Sam peered around at the paper. “I would think so. They’re basically plays, just with songs. I can’t see why it wouldn’t count.”

“Hm.” Paulina pursed her lips. “If we do this one are we gonna perform a song or a different part of the musical?” She looked over at Sam. She had a dangerous, determined look on her face.

“Only if we want to blow everyone else out of the water.”

Paulina stared for a few seconds, her cheeks heating up. Then she coughed and looked back at the paper.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do that one.”

QQQQQ

“Why are they all named Heather anyways?”

Sam shrugged as Paulina squinted at her copy of the script. 

They sat in the middle of the stage in the empty auditorium. The rest of their class was in the library, but Mr. Lancer had given them permission to go over their own project in the auditorium. 

“What I wanna know is why there’s always so much drama in musicals set in high schools.” Sam wrinkled her nose. “Like I know we have the A-Listers and everything but this in here is so excessive.”

“What, you don’t like drama?” Paulina rested her chin on her hand, shooting Sam a smile.

“I don’t like high schoolers killing other high schoolers.”

Paulina’s smile fell. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sam looked down and away. She took a deep breath and stood up with her script in her hand. “Anyways. Let’s figure out which part we want to perform for the class.”

Paulina took a look at the list of songs they had. “What about Seventeen or Shine a Light? I listened to those a couple times and they both have different tones but they seem like they’d be fun to sing.”

Sam nodded. “And there’s not much about sex in either of those. That’s another thing, why do musicals about high schoolers talk so much about sex?” She faked a gag. “I think those are good choices because some of those songs would be so embarrassing to perform in front of the class.”

Paulina frowned. “If this one has stuff in it that makes you uncomfortable why’d you include it on the list?”

Sam shrugged. “I figured it’d make Lancer squirm. He didn’t actually give any specifications on what we could pick anyways. Now let’s get started. Which part do you want?”

“Oh oh! Can I have the lead part? That is, if you didn’t want it?” Paulina started standing up from where she sat on the floor.

Sam shook her head. “You can have it if you want. Want to practice Seventeen first?”

“Sure.”

The music started playing after Sam hit a button on her phone and it filled up the room.

Paulina took a deep breath. 

“Fine, we're damaged

Really damaged.

But that does not make us wise.

We're not special.

We're not different.

We don't choose who lives or dies.”

Paulina looked up at Sam as she sung the lyrics.

“Let’s be normal. See bad movies

Sneak a beer and watch TV.

We'll bake brownies, 

or go bowling --

Don't you want a life with me?

Can't we be seventeen?

That's all I want to do

If you could let me in.

I could be good with you.”

Paulina’s cheeks flushed but she continued singing.

“People hurt us.”

“Or they vanish…”

Goosebumps traveled over Paulina’s arms as Sam’s voice rang out towards her. 

“And you're right that really blows.

But we let go…”

Sam looked up and met Paulina’s eyes and it felt like Paulina was electrocuted. She pulled her eyes away and looked back down at her paper. They finished up the song and Paulina kept staring at her paper until Sam left out a breathless laugh.

“That was so cool! I’ve never really thought about doing theater or anything because it’s not very, you know, goth. But that was exhilarating!” 

Paulina watched as Sam laughed and smiled. She could feel herself falling in and laughed herself. 

QQQQQ

Paulina and Sam laughed as they walked out of the school together. Their project was due in two days and they were heading to Sam’s house to practice their song a bit more. 

“I can’t wait to see Lancer’s face when we discuss what the musical is about. Do you think he’ll-”

BOOM! 

Sam got cut off as something exploded ahead of them, sending both girls sprawling to the ground. 

Looking behind them from where she was on the ground, Paulina saw a giant animalistic ghost. It looked somewhere between a cross of a snake and a cat and it looked like it was about to shoot another blast off from it’s fangs. 

Just as the blast was launched towards Paulina, something crashed into the side of the ghost's head, sending the shot soaring into the sky instead. 

“Run! Get out of here!” Phantom shouted as he shot back at the ghost.

She stood up shakily but didn’t run away. She looked around the front of the school for Sam, where she saw the other girl in the middle of the sidewalk holding a...lipstick? With a determined look on her face. 

What was she planning to do with a tube of lipstick?

Paulina had begun inching her way over to Sam when a green blast came out of the lipstick she was holding onto. It shot into the ghost a couple of times, distracting it from Phantom’s attacks for a moment. 

It bared its teeth at Sam but Phantom punched it in the side of the head. Snarling, it batted Phantom away, sending it flying across the parking lot and it faced back towards Sam. 

Paulina felt like everything was happening in slow motion. When the ghost bared its teeth again, when another ball of ectoplasm started dripping from its fangs, when Paulina ran desperately across the parking lot and barreled Sam out of the way and onto the ground just before the blast created a crater in the ground where she stood a moment before. The ghost started snarling at them again.

“Hey ugly!” 

Phantom viciously threw another ectoblast at the ghost, stunning it before finally pulling it into his thermos. 

Paulina gasped and turned back to where Sam was still laying underneath her. 

“Sam! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m-” Sam paused, frowning and her face flushing before she spoke again, looking over Paulina’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“What?” 

Sam groaned. “That dip is making faces over there.”

Paulina turned around to see Phantom making kissy faces at them. She raised an eyebrow at him and he paused to give her a grin.

“Okay well, my job is done. Have fun you two!”

And he jumped into the air and flew away. 

“Seriously though.” Paulina crawled off of Sam and helped her up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why’d you do that anyways?” Her brows furrowed. “I would’ve been okay. You didn’t have to do anything.”

Paulina gaped at her. “It was about to attack you! It tried! It left a crater in the ground where you were standing! Why wouldn’t I have done anything?”

Sam looked away. “I didn’t think you cared.” She said softly.

Paulina’s stomach plummeted. “I wouldn’t have two weeks ago.” She whispered. “But then we got paired up for this project, and I realized that you’re actually very cool and that I was just really dumb in middle school.”

Sam looked at her. 

“And I think I’ve always sort of missed you. But I decided to never stop being mad so I never figured that out.”

“I guess I did the same thing too.” Sam said. “I could’ve decided to talk to you on my own and talk things out after a while but I just didn’t want to.”

“But it was my fault. I was the one being a terrible person.”

“Are you going to continue being a terrible person though?”

Paulina’s mind went back to the first time Sam’s rage had been bestowed upon her, when one of Paulina’s friends beat up one of Sam’s friends. She didn’t want to be the cause of that again. 

“No.”

“Well.” Sam smiled. “That’s the important part. That you’re capable of change.” She picked up her bag from where she had dropped it during the attack. “Now come on, my mom was gonna make cookies when we got home.”

Paulina smiled back at her and held up her arm to the other girl. Sam looked at it and linked her own arm with Paulina’s. Together they walked away from the school.

QQQQQ

Sam and Paulina’s chests rose up and down as they held their arms up into the air after performing the piece they picked from their musical. The class clapped for them and they lowered their arms and bowed.

“Very nice, Ms. Sanchez and Ms. Manson. Though, I wish you had picked something more appropriate than.” He squinted at the sheet they handed him. “Heathers the musical.”

Sam snickered. “Of course, Mr. Lancer. We’ll try to keep that in mind next time.”

Lancer gave her a look. “Yes, be sure that you do. Alright up next we have-”

Sam and Paulina walked back to their desks and sat down. Paulina shot a look to where Sam was sitting with Danny and Tucker, who were both making kissy faces at her while she swatted at them. Sam’s gaze met hers and Paulina waved at her before blowing a kiss to her across the room.

Sam’s face turned the brightest shade of red Paulina had ever seen it and she opened a folder and stuck her face inside it. Danny and Tucker were both teasing her even more, seemingly losing their mind about it. Paulina giggled at them and turned her focus back to the front of the classroom.

[thewritercometh]

Lookie here, two posts in 24 hours, I'm really cookin' now!

So here's a WIP I've had sitting around involving something I haven't written much with- fairies! Here, a human stumbles upon a fairy village and stuff happens. What is stuff? Guess you'll have to read and find out!

At least it's not raining, Kas thought to himself as he walked through the woods by the light of his flashlight.  The full moon was overhead but it didn't quite shine through the trees well enough for him to see.

His car had died a few miles back, and he had no cell phone reception to call for a wrecker.  Plus it was the middle of the night and he didn't feel like waking somebody up, so he decided to hoof it cross-country to his cousin's house, only three miles the way the crow flies.

Boy, three miles never seemed so far, he thought as he leaned against a tree for a moment.  Shoulda stayed with the car and either flagged someone down, or waited till morning.  None of this traipsing through the woods business.

Kas was just about to get underway again, when he thought he saw a faint flicker of light somewhere to his left.  There was another and another until there were multiple pinpricks of light, flitting and dancing in the air, in all sorts of colors, about two hundred feet or so ahead.  Curiosity piqued, Kas slowly made his way closer, turning off his flashlight and creeping forward so as not to scare whatever those lights were.

When he got closer, and could properly see, Kas was amazed.  On the other side of some bushes, a small city made of mushrooms was laid out on the ground.  The dancing lights turned out to be tiny winged people, no more than a few inches tall!  They flitted about happily, obviously celebrating some sort of special occasion, as music played from somewhere.  Kas tried to adjust his position slightly, but accidentally stepped on a twig on the ground, breaking it with a loud crack.

Kas may as well have shouted.  When the twig broke, every head in the mushroom village snapped in his direction. The music stopped and silence fell, heavy and awkward.  

One hand slowly rose in a placating gesture.  "I come in peace," he tried to reassure the tiny crowd staring at him.

From somewhere, a cry of "Fairy hunter!" went up, and the crowd scattered in panic. They ran in all directions, desperate to get away.  But through all the chaos, a multitude of red-glowing figures appeared from various locations and converged before Kas, their wings droning angrily like a swarm of hornets.

The apparent leader, a tall lean male with hatred in his eyes, buzzed in front of Kas and barked, "Leave this place, fairy hunter!"

Kas lowered his voice, his hand still up.  "I'm sorry, you guys. I really didn't mean to interrupt anything."  He took a step back.  "See? Backing up, leavi- whoa whoa!" As Kas took another step back, his heel caught a tree root, upsetting his balance.

The battalion of fairies took full advantage, surging forward and colliding with Kas, pushing him further off-balance and knocking him to the ground.  They dog-piled the human, fighting against his every movement.  

While most of them were occupied with this task, a few others busied themselves with another job.  Conjuring enchanted spider silk, they zipped to and fro, crisscrossing Kas's chest and legs, tying them to small mushrooms they would conjure around the giant. 

Finally, the task was completed. The giant was defeated, bound by the unbreakable thread.  The battalion of fairies hovered around Kas, watching for the slightest wrong move as their captain landed on the giant's chest.

Kas struggled against the threads binding him.  They should've broken easily, but they held fast, as if they were steel cables.  In the midst of his struggle, he heard a voice, full of authority and distaste, and he turned to face the leader of his captors.

Captain Thorn stood victorious on the giant's chest, staring down into those huge, stupid blue eyes that stared back in surprise, shock… and a bit of fear.  Good, it's realized its mistake. The stupid beast knows who is superior.  The thought brought a hint of a smile to his face.  "Fairy hunter, hm?  How pathetic.  I expected more of a challenge, honestly."

"I don't know who you think I am, but I'm no fai-"

"Cease your lies, monster," Thorn ordered with a wave of his hand.  Instantly, the giant's voice was silenced.  The fairy took a small measure of pleasure at seeing the beast's face as it realized what happened, before trying to make any sort of noise, all for naught.  "Now, giant, I'm going to teach you a lesson you can take back to your hunter compatriots," Thorn said as he raised his other hand, which was now glowing a brighter red. He stepped forward and leaned in to whisper, "Cross not the fairies."  His hand made contact with Kas's cheek.

Kas wished for all the world that he could scream or move away, or do anything else to get the pain away. But, all he was able to do was flinch as the hand burned his cheek, deep down through the flesh, through the muscle, to the bone.  It seared like a branding iron, sure to leave a hateful red mark in its place.  He regretted ever leaving his car and deciding to walk through the woods-

"Stop!" Boomed another voice. Instantly the hand left Kas's cheek, but the angry burning sensation remained.  Kas opened his eyes and saw the fairy on his chest standing at attention, looking toward something.  Following his gaze, Kas saw another fairy descending towards them. 

This newcomer was significantly older than the one who had branded him, Kas noticed.  He wore a magnificent white uniform with a pale blue cape flowing behind him.  His wings were larger than any of the others, and they shimmered like crystal in the pale moonlight.  His beard, nearly chest-length and snow-white, framed a face etched with concern and anger.  He landed, touching down gently and standing tall to face the Captain.

"What is the meaning of this, Captain Thorn?" The elder fairy asked sternly.

Thorn stood at attention.  "A fairy hunter, Your Majesty.  Captured when it tried to sneak up on the village."

The elder fairy, the King, turned to face Kas.  "Yes, you and your soldiers must be proud.  You are to be congratulated," the King said with a hint of sarcasm that seemed to go over the Captain's head. He carefully stepped closer to Kas's face and smiled.  "Hello, human," he greeted, his voice now kind and soft.  

Kas tried to speak, forgetting for a moment that his voice was gone.

The King waved a hand, still smiling kindly.  "You are free to speak, human.  May I have your name?"

Kas nearly answered, but even with his adrenaline-clouded mind, words came to him from his memory, long believed forgotten. They were from a story, he thought. It was something about fairies and names.  God, I hope I'm remembering this correctly.  "Y-you may not have my name, but I'll tell you what it is, Sir."

The King's smile widened and his eyes glittered.  Ah, too long since I've had this exchange.  "Very well," he nodded.  "Would you tell me your name, please?"

Kas nodded in return.  "Yes, Sir.  My name is Kaster.  Kaster Buress, Your Majesty."

"A pleasure to meet you, Kaster Buress.  I am King Clover Evergreen.  What brings you to our humble village?"

Kas swallowed.  "Well, I was making my way to my cousin's house, on the other side of the forest.  I stopped to rest for a moment, and I saw lights moving around.  I thought they were fireflies, but they were different colors."  He dropped his eyes and looked away, embarrassed.  "I was just curious, Your Majesty."

Thorn snorted doubtfully to himself.

If the King heard Thorn, he didn't show it.  He simply held up one hand and took a step forward.  "Kaster, would you mind if we were to bond for a moment?  I simply wish to see from your perspective."

"Your Majesty, I must protest," Thorn interjected, moving closer.  "The giant-" he was cut off when the King turned his attention to him.

"Is secured, clearly," King Evergreen finished the sentence.  "I appreciate your concern, but I am in no need of being coddled.  Resume your position, Captain."

Thorn did so hesitantly.

King Clover returned his attention to Kas.  "May I?" He asked, smiling and wiggling his fingers slightly.

Kas swallowed again and nodded hesitantly.  "Y-you may, Your Majesty," he said, bracing for more of that hateful pain as the King laid the hand on his cheek.

It didn't come.  What came in its place was a cool, soothing sensation.  It slowly spread through his body, relaxing him and putting him at ease.  Feeling his eyes grow heavy, Kas let them close as he relaxed further.  He saw the night's events, from the car stalling out, up to this moment, flash before his eyes like a dream.  He heard the King's soft and gentle voice remark, "Oh, so you're a traveller", as well as "Southeast? No wonder…".  Most noticably, Kas felt the place where he'd been branded grow cooler until it no longer hurt, but instead change to a menthol coolness.

Finally, King Clover lifted his hand from Kas's cheek.  "The bond is complete, Kaster," he said as he gently stroked the giant's face.  "You have nothing to fear.  We mean you no harm."

Kas slowly opened his eyes and tried to look at King Evergreen.  "Thank you, Sir," he said, careful not to move his mouth too much.  "That feels good. Nice. Pleasant."

King Clover smiled.  "I'm glad you approve, child," he said kindly.  "I learned that it's been quite some time since such a gesture was performed." A nod was his only response.  "There, there. It's okay. No one's going to hurt you," the King soothed for a few moments longer, before finally standing upright.  He raised his hand again and snapped his fingers.

With a strangely reverberating crack, Kas felt the tiny threads crisscrossing his body loosen.  He slowly moved his arm to test how loose his bindings were, and found they had vanished entirely.

"Your Majesty!"  Thorn moved closer once again.  "Are you sure this is a good idea? Freeing a giant?"

King Evergreen stood a bit straighter, his face turning to a smolder of displeasure.  "Are you questioning your King's judgement, Captain?"  Thorn stalled for a moment, and that was all it took.  "Wait at attention, Thorn, while I address my soldiers."  He took to the air and called the soldiers to attention.  "Troops!  You performed your duties flawlessly this night, and The Crown commends you.  However, in the performance of said duties, a crime was unfortunately committed."

Silence hung in the air as the implications sunk in for each soldier.  Thorn, still at attention on Kas's chest, gave the human an unpleasant sideways look and sneered ever-so-slightly.

The King continued, "This unfortunate crime was committed against one Kaster Buress, an innocent traveller, attempting to reach the abode of his kin.  He was drawn to the sights and sounds of the festival by curiosity alone, making him the victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  However, I have bonded with him, and I have ascertained that even though you frightened him, he bears no ill will toward you.

"I bid you, soldiers, return to the festival.  Assure the people that everything is under control, and inform them of the human traveller, Kaster Buress.  Assure them he truly means no harm toward our kind, and he is to join us as a guest if he so wishes."  The King ended his address with a salute and something spoken in what must've been traditional fairy language, if Kas had to guess.

King Evergreen nodded with satisfaction as the guards buzzed back to the village, before turning his attention to Kas, still lying on his back, and the fairy Captain standing on said human's chest.  "Thorn! To the air!" He barked sternly, before addressing Kas in a gentler voice, "Kaster, you may sit up if you wish."

Thorn lifted off and came to heel before his King, as Kas sat up and stretched a bit.  His attention stayed on the pair of fairies, hovering a few feet away, King Evergreen angrily speaking in Fae language as Thorn flitted in place, taking the fierce tongue-lashing.

*"How could you think it was a good idea, Thorn?!  Attacking a traveller, an innocent no less, without first making sure of their intentions!  Do you know what you did? I'll tell you!  What you did was get in Kaster's face, ordering him to leave. As he, a surrendering human traveller with no way to defend himself, complied with your order, you and the entire battalion swarmed, bee-piled, and tied him down like some common beast!  And then, as if you hadn't gone far enough, you Silenced and branded him!  What in the Nine Realms ever convinced you that was a good idea?!"*

Kas continued to watch the dressing-down that Thorn was receiving.  Boy, King Evergreen is really laying into him.

*"I believe that you've lost sight of what you agreed to when you joined the Royal Guard, and agreed to again when I promoted you to Captain.  You vowed to stand tall, to protect the community and Crown, to be a beacon of bravery, of kindness, valor, and light.  You promised never to harm the innocent, nor to strike in anger.  When I bonded with the human, I felt anger in the branding.  I felt hatred.*

"... And so, Thorn Blackleaf, to help remind you of the vows you swore to uphold, I, King Clover Evergreen, hereby demote you to Sargeant.  You will remain at such rank until I believe you have regained sight of your vows.  In addition to your demotion, you are sentenced to stand tall, to protect the community and Crown.  You will never harm the innocent, nor strike in anger."  King Evergreen raised a hand, fingers poised to snap.  "I hereby sentence you to 100 years as an oak tree.  Have you any words before sentence is carried out?"

Thorn shook his head.  "No, Your Majesty. If it is your will, let it be done."  He closed his eyes and braced for the snap of fingers, the undoubtedly painful transformation.

Both fairies' attention was drawn when Kas blurted, "Your Majesty, wait!"

King Clover's head whipped around to look down at the human.  "You wish to speak?"

Kas quickly adjusted himself so he was kneeling.  "May it please Your Gracious Majesty that I speak in defense of Thorn?"

The King stared at Kas, then turned to Thorn, then back to Kas.  After a long silence, he slowly nodded.  "You may speak, but do not try to deter punishment."

"It's not my intention to deter, Your Majesty.  I just wish to offer an alternative."

More silence, and then King Evergreen lowered his fingers.  "I will entertain the possibility of an alternative."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. You are truly great," Kas bowed.

"Don't try to butter me up, Kaster."  King Evergreen warned flatly.

"Okay… um, so, what kind of service record does Thorn have?"

"Exemplary. Spotless."

Kas nodded.  "Alright.  Any particular commendations? Awards, medals?"

King Evergreen raised an eyebrow.  "Yes. He holds six for valor in action."

A low impressed whistle left Kas's mouth.  "Six for valor.  Quite a soldier.  Any… uh, what's the word?  Disciplinary actions taken before this? Ever been busted down in rank?"

"Never."

Kas nodded again.  "Okay, good.  And how long has he served?"

No hesitation from the King.  "Thorn Blackleaf has been in faithful service to the Crown for 103 years."

Kas had no words for a moment. He simply stared in amazement.  103 years?  And he only looks to be about early 30s, at most. Fairies must be really long-lived.  "O-okay. So, if he's served so long, and never been reprimanded until tonight, couldn't he have the possibility of a second chance?"

"I told you not to try swaying my decision."

"Oh, I'm not trying to sway. Please hear me out.  You want him to show he's still in touch with his vows, right?"  At a nod, Kas continued.  "And it seems I need some assistance in my little trek.  So…" he trailed off, letting King Evergreen fill in the blanks himself.

Thorn watched all that was happening with dawning dread.  The human can't be serious.  And King Evergreen can't actually be entertaining the thought!

King Clover mulled over the thought.  "Hmm. Perhaps there is something to this idea, Kaster."  He considered for a few moments, then nodded.  "Very well, I will take you up on this."  He moved closer to Kas and offered his hand to shake.  Kas reciprocated with a finger, and the pair shook in agreement.

Thorn hovered, dumbfounded.  What is even happening right now?

King Clover returned to hovering before Thorn.  "Thorn Blackleaf, in lieu of standing guard over this grove as an oak, I offer an alternative, a way to earn back your rank and privilege.  I hereby task you with guarding the human Kaster Buress, and escorting him to the residence of his kin.

"However," the King continued, "if harm should befall him whether by your own doing, interference, or lack of all reasonable intervention, you will face your original sentence. Am I clear?"

Dread sat heavy in Thorn's chest like an anvil.  "Absolutely, Your Majesty."

[dreamersleeps]

Todoroki Enji and the Egyptian Sun God Ra

(Part Four: Mythological Influences in Boku no Hero Academia) 

Note: ok, so I’m kinda nervous to post this. . . but here we are

So how did I get to comparing the Egyptian sun god Ra to Endeavor? To sum it up, this is the fourth post in a set of analysis and meta about mythological influences in BNHA, so a lot of this builds on top of the info and connections I’ve made previously.

There are quite a few references and influences to Greek mythology in BNHA and personally I was very intrigued with the Hawks and Icarus parallels that kept popping up. In the myth of Icarus, the sun melts the wax off of Icarus’ artificial wings which causes him to fall and drown in the ocean. I saw Endeavor as one of Hawks’ metaphorical “suns”. While I sat on that, I began looking at Tokoyami, since he has a mentor-student relationship with Hawks, and found how he has Egyptian influences in his character design which I wrote about in a post here. 

I began researching and reading through ancient Egyptian myths and information. One of the figures that caught my attention was the ancient Egyptian’s most important god: Ra, the sun god. (He is the falcon headed figure depicted below.)  I quickly found some similarities between Ra and Endeavor. 

This image is from the expereince-ancient-egypt website. 

Before I begin, I’d like to say I am very much aware that BNHA is a Japanese manga series and that the story is greatly influenced by Japanese culture and society. Unless there are very explicit examples (such as the case of Tokoyami) this post is not me saying that Horikoshi intentionally wrote certain characters and aspects inspired by Egyptian mythology. I just like like finding interesting similarities whether they were intentional or coincidental and writing about it. 

That being stated, let’s begin. 

Ra: The Egyptian God of the Sun 

The original source of the image above is unknown. 

So, who exactly is Ra? 

Ra was the Ancient Egyptian sun god. The sun had a special place among the ancient Egyptians, they considered it the source of life. He was... the creator of the universe, one of the most famous deities... 

Ancient Egyptians believed that Ra created himself, and his tears created humans. The setting of the sun means the beginning of the daily journey by Ra, in which he travels by his holy boat to the underworld every evening, to fight the forces of evil represented in a big snake called Apophis, and then returns to a brilliant triumph in the heights of the sky every morning on a new day. The ancient Egyptian saw this as a sign of human resurrection, and also evidence of Ra’s victory over the forces of chaos and evil (cleopatraegypttours). 

Throughout all the websites I went through, Ra was very closely associated with the themes of the sun, life, the underworld, resurrection and victory over chaos and evil.

Let’s focus more on Ra’s journey through the underworld. 

During his life he was required, as the incarnation and representative of the sun god, to maintain the cosmic and social order (ma’at) established by the god of creation. He had to repel the forces of chaos which constantly threatened the order of the world. 

After his d/eath, the king united with the sun disk and his divine body merged with his creator. In his new role he continued to perform the task of subduing the powers of chaos. This active role of the king and sun god necessitated a detailed description of the d/amned, who represent the forces of evil. 

Perhaps you may be starting to see the similarities and connections I began to form between Ra and Endeavor. If not, it’s okay. Sometimes II have to sit on a lot of the information I’m taking in before I see anything. 

Endeavor’s Powers

Endeavor’s fire-based quirk is called “Hellflame.” The list of his named moves are: Flashfire Fist (Jet Burn, Hell Spider, Hell’s Curtain), Karmic Raze - Hellfire Storm, Raging Assault - Hell Minefield, Vanishing Fist, and Prominence Burn. As you can see, there’s a lot of mentions of the word: Hell. 

While we can connect the “hell theme” back to Ra’s connections to the underworld, I would first like to point out what the Egyptian underworld was. We associate fire, suffering and other things with hell, however, this is a depiction that comes from the Abrahamic/Judeo-Christian religions. 

The image above depicts a section of the Egyptian Book of the D/ead with Osiris on the left and the Weighting of the Heart taking place on the right. 

There were many sources that described the extensive processes of the underworld and afterlife so I’m keeping it simple here. Anyways, the ancient Egyptians did not really have a concept of this sort of hell. Instead, after death, a part of the soul would travel through the underworld which was also known as Duat for judgement. They underwent a judgement process that had two parts and if they passed, they moved on to the Reed Fields which was Paradise. Those who failed simply ceased to be.

The “hell” that is probably being referred back to with Endeavor’s quirk and powers most likely was influenced with other cultures, again more specifically those with Abrahamic/Judeo-Christian religions. Despite this difference I do still think that there are other interesting similarities between Endeavor and Ra. 

For example, I’ve already established in a previous post that I like to associate Endeavor to the sun. A lot of this post will rely heavily on what happened during the High End vs Endeavor fight. The move he is using above is called “Prominence Burn.” According to NASA: 

a solar prominence (also known as a filament when viewed against the solar disk) is a large, bright feature extending outwards into the Sun’s hot outer atmosphere

This is the finishing move that helps Endeavor defeat the High End and this is very significant because it is the only move with a name that relates back to the sun. 

In Chapter 188 during the High End fight, Endeavor is even depicted as a fiery sphere of fire and light high up in the sky, very visually similar to the sun. 

If you need more evidence for sun related themes surrounding Endeavor, Ending, the criminal who kidnaps Natsuo describes him as “A fierce solar flare that shines bright.” 

One of Ra’s main duties is to keep order and defeat the “forces of chaos and evil.” Endeavor and the heroes in general sort of view themselves as this force of good and see the “villains” as enemies that have to be taken care of. I don’t agree with the ideas that “all heroes are good, and all villains are bad” and that is definitely not the message that Horikoshi is trying to send. It is because that sort of belief exists that hero society is flawed. Typically, when reading through mythology or religious texts, the themes of absolute good and absolute evil are common. Those are the contexts in which gods and other figures that exist. Humans are flawed and tend to stand somewhere in the in between. 

That being stated, Ra and Endeavor are similar in their ties to the sun, underworld and sense of duty that they must defeat the “forces of chaos and evil” for the sake of everyone else. 

High End vs Endeavor 

Endeavor greatest ambition in life was to become the number one hero. He may act like a hero in the public’s eye but he does not have a “heroic nature” or “character.” He failed and broke his own family for the sake of his ambitions, and arguably, the Todoroki family came in to existence to serve a certain purpose. If he could not become the number one, then he’d make sure that someone with his blood and name would achieve that one day. However the unexpected happened. All Might had to retire and Endeavor was given the title as number one hero. He didn’t earn it. He was given it purely because he was the number two hero. 

Let’s revisit the High End fight. This conflict happens shortly after the Hero Billboard Chart event. Japan is uneasy as their symbol of peace has retired and they do not know whether they can rely on the new number one hero. His family also is conflicted with his new position and how it was given to him. Throughout the fight we take a step in to Endeavor’s thoughts and inner monologue.  

The manga panel above is from Chapter 188. 

The High End is incredibly powerful and even with his powerful Hellflame quirk, Endeavor is having a hard time fighting against it. One of the weaknesses with having a fire related quirk is that it overheats his body so he’s had to rely on using his flames properly and cooling down afterwards. Because of this, he thinks about his family. The family that began because of this very weakness. His memory goes back to Rei when she is young, perhaps at the beginning of their arranged marriage or shortly before. Touya, Natsuo and Fuyumi are young as well. Standing far away and unhappy, maybe even nervous. And lastly, Shouto, the child he wanted to continue his legacy in, activating both his ice and hellflame quirks. He is the only one depicted in his actual current age. 

On top of the very next page we get a scene with the High End Nomu speaking as seen below. 

This Nomu came to fight and defeat whoever was the strongest. Despite it’s ability to speak, it is still mindless, declaring on and on about its power and strength. It does not care about who it is fighting and the destruction that is occuring along the way. The High End has multiple quirks that were chosen specifically to make it as powerful as it could be. Perhaps it was in this moment that something clicked in Endeavor’s mind. 

Soon after, the High End strikes Endeavor multiple times, with one strike later leaving him with the scar that runs down the left side of his face. He falls to the ground and in to the rubble. Chapter 188 ends on this page with the manga panel seen below and everyone is left to wonder whether Endeavor is dead or alive. 

In Chapter 189 we see the effects of the void All Might left due to his retirement. 

If the “villains” can’t be kept in check the public becomes chaotic with fear. A quiet night fell over Japan after All Might retired. People felt like the light was taken away. Then Endeavor gets up. With Hawks’ help he rises in to the air with wings on fire.

And in Chapter 190 he defeats the High End Nomu with Prominence Burn. 

Endeavor and the Dawning Sun

There’s a lot of things going on here. Endeavor basically follows the journey Ra takes every single day to complete his duty. Similar to how Ra “dies” as he travels through the underworld, at one point we are led to believe that Endeavor has been killed by. As most of the battle took place up in the air, Endeavor physically falls when he “dies.” Leading up to the fall, he is thinking about his family and the past. 

While Ra and Endeavor “resurrect” at different points in their journey, they both rise back again in order to fulfill their duty to bring back “order and balance.”

I’ve already written about the falcon/hawk headed Egyptian god Horus and Hawks, however I have yet to address the relationship between Ra and Horus. At some point, Ra was combined with Horus and became known as Ra-Horakhty which means “Ra, Horus of the Horizon.” Ra-Horakhty is most often thought of as the god of the rising sun. It is in this form that Ra rises in the sky to bring the dawn when he arises from the underworld. 

The original source of this image is unknown.

There is a deity (seen above) that appears a lot throughout architecture from ancient Egypt called “Horus-Behdity” who is depicted as a winged sun disc:

The winged sun disc is highly symbolic representing the Union of Horus the falcon God, and Ra the sun god, the union of the Two-Lands of Egypt, and becomes a symbol of rebirth for the kings (British Museum).

Although it is Endeavor who ultimately defeats the High End, it is with the aid of Hawks’ quirk that he is able to land the finishing blow. He rises in to the sky like the winged sun disc: Endeavor as the sun, and Hawks as the wings. I think the depiction of Hawks with his back towards he audience and Endeavor burning them with his flames on the cover of Volume 21 says a lot of things (including the Icarus parallels!). 

Taking a couple steps back, the wording on the pages where Endeavor addresses the nomu and then before uses the finishing move Prominence Burn on the High End is important. 

“Modified human... Noumu! Manufactured one. . . Holder of multiple quirks. . . Obesessed with the pursuit of strength!” (Chapter 190)

“You are... Just like me! From the past, or perhaps from an alternate future. Now burn, and rest for all eternity!” (Chapter 190)

Endeavor is a controversial character that because of his past and the horrible things he did to his family. However, we can not ignore what has been written in the manga. I’m not going to argue or talk too much about my own thoughts and opinions here, but I think it is important to address what happened during this High End fight.

He identifies himself with the Nomu: the power hungry and mindless creature. It’s interesting that he uses the phrases of “manufactured” and “holder of multiple quirks,” and “pursuit of strength” which are words that are heavy with meaning to him: the arranged marriage he purchased, the children he neglected and the “perfect” child he sought after for the sake of strength. 

The train of thoughts that had begun in his mind is expressed outwards. He shouts them out in to the sky. He acknowledges the past (however to what extent is debatable), and even addresses the future. I’m not sure if he’s acknowledging that he may fail to change or that he hopes that he can change what he can. 

He then defeats the High End. Endeavor had been given the number on hero position but this victory is what “establishes” him with the title in the eyes of the public. With the bright light of All Might gone, the public is inspired by a new light, the sun that Endeavor represents bringing a dawn to the night. His victory pose is reminiscent of All Might’s however it is with his other arm that is in the air, he’s slumped over and his legs are barely keeping him up. The flames that usually cover his face and body are gone as well. This is the victory of Endeavor the hero but it could also be Todoroki Enji as a father making a statement. 

I’m not sure if this is him symbolically k/illing the monster he was, or if this is symbolic as to where Endeavor’s journey will ultimately head towards, or if its a representation of hopes that never come true later on. I’m not trying to paint this piece from a pro-Endeavor stance or an anti-Endeavor stance but merely trying to explain how I interpreted the events of the High End fight and the thematic meanings it had as it unfolded. At the end of the day, we all have different opinions and interpretations and you have all the right to disagree with everything I’m writing in this post. 

(The case with Endeavor is very complicated and I don’t want to get to deep in to it here however) We definitely should not forget what Endeavor did in the past but at the same time we should not ignore the efforts and progress he has tried to make. While we must hold people accountable for their actions, it is not wrong for someone to want to change or become better. Endeavor may “fail” or he may be able to “succeed,” whatever either entails or looks like. However even though we do get the depiction of a rising sun, you have to remember that the sun also sets. 

Anyways, what has been established was that this fight is where Endeavor explicitly expressed his acknowledgement of the past (maybe not in its entirety but it is a big first step). And it is directly after this step that we take a deep dive in to what facing the past will look like for Endeavor.  

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 2

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!

Summary: Clearly riding around on a cloud in the rain with no plan is not going to find the trio. Team Monkie Kid needs an actual plan to figure out where they are. Unfortunately, while no one really likes Monkey King’s suggestions they may have to go through with them.

Warnings: None for this chapter, mind AO3 for future chapters.

Chapter 2: This Altitude Ain't the Only Thing I Got Over You

Pigsy would have still been pissed off if the Monkey King didn’t look so... so damn sad.

He hadn’t spoken since his little outburst. Tang had only barely gotten him to stand and take a seat at one of the restaurant tables before offering him a fresh towel to dry his fur (as much as he could anyway, Pigsy would still need to clean the seat later). It almost surprised him that he was taking this so much worse than the rest of them... but then again he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at all.

Sun Wukong had changed quite a bit over the years he was gone, more so now that the trio was inserted into his life on a regular basis. More so than even on that journey they took together all those centuries ago. He knew the monkey always had a huge soft spot for kids (even if the “kids” were grown ass adults apparently, but he was one to talk) and the idea of three kids he was in charge of and caring for vanishing into the void of who knows where with no one to punch in retribution was the line drawn in the sand for him.

He just sat there, towel over his shoulders and head and looking down at the warm bowl of plain noodles and broth in his hands dejectedly. Every so often he took a sip or slowly ate a single long noodle so at least Pigsy knew they hadn’t completely lost him yet.

“What do we do now?” Tang asked softly behind him, tone one of clearly tampered down worry. The scholarly man had done his best to help in whatever way he could, mostly by checking social media for any trace he could find since Mei was on there more than anyone else they knew and any sightings of Mei or Red Son or MK always drew attention now.

Unfortunately, her online trail stopped not even 20 minutes after they left. It gave them a good idea of where they were heading, though. Mei’s last post was a selfie of her hugging a very disgruntled Red Son, a cheese tea stall and MK making a purchase behind them, with the caption “Pre-training treat time! Let’s see if this Spicy Boy likes spicy tea!”

It would have been cute if it wasn’t the last thing she posted and if no one seemed to post about seeing them afterward...

“We know what stall they were at, yeah?” Pigsy pulled up a map of the city on his phone and sat down at the table with Sandy, letting Wukong sit alone for the moment but making sure he could hear their conversation. “If they borrowed one of Sandy’s boats it’s gotta be somewhere. We find the nearest docks and start there, maybe-”

“It’s not there,” Wukong interrupted suddenly. His tone was stilted, soft and thoughtful but held back. “I checked the docks when I flew over the ocean. No blue boats. Why does no one have blue boats?”

“Hmn...” Pigsy rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment. “That’s something though, makes it faster. We just gotta check with any dock masters, see if they remember a blue boat or if it was confiscated.”

“I can do that,” Sandy offered, Mo jumping onto his shoulder with an approving meow. “All the dock masters know me, some of them owe me some favors. If I tell them it’s my boat they’d definitely help out.”

“OK... OK, that’s a good start!” Tang smiled approvingly as he seemed to get some zeal back into him. “I’m going to keep checking online, but I can call or stop by the stalls and see if anyone working at the time remembers seeing where they went!”

“Good, good we’re getting somewhere!” Pigsy finally smiled himself, looking over the map and making a note of when all the surrounding stores closed. “If we can find the dock where the boat was left, even if we don’t find the boat, and the direction they left the stall in, we should be able to figure out a vague idea of the path they took. We’re gonna need more of a plan, maybe someone should go to the weather station and see if we can get them to let up the storm, but we have something now.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Wukong agreed from behind them, gulping down more of his broth. “So that’s good. But...”

When Pigsy turned around he frowned again, matching the expression on the face of his once-brother. “But?”

“I think we’re going to need more help,” Wukong sighed, grimacing as he looked out at the storm. “For the three of them to just vanish... They’re strong. Way too strong for any random human to take them. Way too strong for a lot of demons. If they didn’t do this on purpose, and they would never do this on purpose, the person who did this is...”

Suddenly Wukong’s disposition made much more sense. Suddenly Pigsy realized the one thing he had overlooked, the one thing all three of them except the Monkey King overlooked.

Mei was the descendant of a dragon. MK was the Monkie Kid. Red Son was Red Son.

For someone to take all three of them at the same time they would have to either be incredibly smart, incredibly powerful, or a very dangerous combination of both.

“Shit... SHIT.” Pigsy smashed his fist into the table, angry at himself for not realizing it sooner. He’d underestimated his kids and now it was obvious that even if they found them with his plan the only one any way equipped to do anything about this was Wukong himself. And he looked worried. “Well then who the hell are we supposed to ask!?”

Despite how angry and gruff his question was, Wukong didn’t seem to take any offense to it. He ran his fingers over the fur on his face, humming for a moment before nodding to himself. “I think... first, we do your plan. Then, we need to see the Spider Queen.”

“Oh HELL no,” Tang shouted, hitting the table himself as he stood and startled everyone in the room with his outburst. “There is no way we are teaming up with HER! She tried to eat Pigsy! AND MK!”

“And you.”

“That’s besides the point Pigsy.”

“We’re not teaming up with her,” Wukong said quickly, holding up his hands in an attempt to placate the angry man. “But she has always had a knack for gathering information, sometimes even without her knowing, because of her spider minions. If we can convince her with some kind of trade we could get at least some kind of intel on the local demon action. It’s worth a try if I can intimidate her just enough to keep her from fighting.”

Tang almost growled under his breath, which was very interesting to everyone else being he was the only human in the room, but eventually he nodded and sat back down. “Fine... but I do not like it.”

“That’s fair... because I’m pretty sure you are really not going to like my next suggestion...” Wukong tensed as everyone looked right at him, faces a mixture of disbelief and worry. What could he possibly suggest that could be worse than going to the Spider Queen in an attempt to gather information?

“... I think... we might need to get help... from DBK.”

----------

“Something up, Noodle Boy?” Red Son leaned over, game controller surrendered to the Monkey King after losing best of three against Mei. “You’re being oddly quiet.”

“I... I dunno Red,” MK muttered, watching one of his best friends and his mentor battle in Monkey Mech. “Does anything feel... off to you?”

“Off?” Red hummed under his breath, looking around with a concerning gaze. “No? Why?” His tone sounded even, but it was clear to MK that just asking the question had made the fire demon’s senses raise.

“Wasn’t it supposed to rain today?”

“Yeah. Again, why?”

“... I’ll tell you later.”

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 1 part 3

I wasn’t sure how often I’d have patients, so I spent much of the rest of the week cleaning up around the property and sweeping the cobwebs out of the cottage. As much as I was willing to be friendly, I was not about to run right to the blacksmith and ask for a favor the same day I met him.

Or for several days after.

I think the golem might have used the last of its existing power getting here, because it didn’t move at all the entire time I was working on the property. If I ever locate my predecessor, I must remember to pick her brain on the finer details of how she made it. I assume it was her that made it, though it could really have been any of the previous owners of the cottage. I’m still not entirely comfortable thinking of myself as its owner, honestly—I feel more like a guest, or perhaps a tenant.

As I worked, my thoughts turned to the Bankhead family. Evander introduced himself as Aidan’s husband, just like that, plain and in public. The ease of it ran so counter to my own experience growing up in Huntsmanland that I hadn’t even processed it in the moment, automatically eliding it so that it could surface for real in my mind at a later time.

Is this the norm in High Rannoc? Is it only in Greenmoor? Or are the Bankheads perhaps rebellious activists? Is this a place where I might be free from the whispers and rumors and derision that followed me for my entire youth?

I suppose further observation is required.

I stopped working after a few hours, sweaty and tired. I was hoping to potentially find some easy reagents in the overgrowth and piles of stones, but no such luck befell me. The job’s not nearly complete, though, and I may be lucky yet.

I’m going to wash off and then head into town, to see if I can find any dishes or cutlery, or at least a few glass bottles. Maybe some lunch, too.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

My trip into town did not go as I’d hoped. My mind is racing a bit at the moment but I’ll try to get this down in order.

The town’s tavern is called The Copper Fox. It sits right next to the inn, and by comparison looks almost comically squat. It was busy when I walked in—looked like more than half of the adults in the town were there. I walked to the bar, intending to ask what food was available. The man working behind the bar met me as I reached it and slid a stein into my hands, cutting off my question by saying “on the house.” He was about as squat as the building he worked in, balding and with a thick mustache and thin beard. He held my gaze for a long moment, with a meaning that I couldn’t quite comprehend. A request, perhaps, or an admonishment.

Or perhaps a warning.

There was a bard standing near one wall, singing and playing guitar. She was finishing a song as I walked in, but as the last chord faded I heard a couple voices from the crowd cry “again! again!”

Gleefully, she started up playing again to a round of cheers and the scattered clinking of silver. It was an old ballad I’d heard a few times before, a bit grisly for my taste. There are a few different variations, but the one she sang goes like this:

The taxman came to collect tax and roused Jack out of bed And Jack, alack, he took an axe and struck him o’er the head The taxman, he fell to the ground and writhed and moaned and bled And Jack, alack, he swung and swung to ensure he was dead

Hey nonny hey What a day what a day Hey nonny hey Stay away stay away

Jack dragged the corpse into town square and loud and bold he said “He came and tried to take what’s mine and now his debt is paid” The townsfolk, they all gathered ‘round, and not a bit afraid All the townsfolk laughed and leaped and threw him a parade

Hey nonny hey What a day what a day Hey nonny hey Stay away stay away

They all marched to the edge of town and facing the frontier They set the corpse down by the road, held upright on a bier With this grisly sculpture the town made its message clear: “Take your bullshit somewhere else. You are not welcome here!”

Hey nonny hey What a day what a day Hey nonny hey Stay away stay away

As I said, it's terribly grim. Still, it’s better than the version where an army comes to massacre the town as revenge for the tax collector.

It was halfway through the second chorus that I began to feel eyes on my back. I glanced around and caught several people quickly averting their eyes. I found this unnerving, to say the least, and it only got worse when I started to hear people whispering. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I recognized the tone. It was one that had followed me my entire childhood, one that made my outsider status clear. I was the other, worthy of derision, of sanction.

Of violence?

I got up and left quickly, without finishing my beer.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I decided to visit the bakery instead. Aidan and Evander had been nothing but kind to me. It turned out to be a good call. They had me come in and upstairs to their apartment, where they were eating what they hadn’t sold that day with their son MacKay. They shared their food with me. They made me feel welcome.

I asked how Aidan’s thumb was doing. He showed me the bandages and how he could squeeze it without pain. He touched it to his fork, and when he lifted his hand the fork didn’t come with it. All was well on that front, it seemed.

I asked after dishes and cutlery, mentioning that there didn’t seem to be any in the cottage. Aidan stood and said that when my predecessor vanished, they were the ones she gifted her kitchenware to. Since they already had a set, Aidan said it seemed only right that it go to the new resident of the cottage, and Evander agreed. I offered to pay but they said there was no need—it was a gift. I took what was offered and thanked them for it.

With a slight sense of belatedness, Evander asked to what they owed the pleasure. I hesitated, not wanting to dampen the mood or be too vulnerable or in any way risk losing what I was quickly beginning to think of as an oasis.

But then again, maybe there was some clarity to be gained here. I started explaining about going to The Copper Fox, and the bard performing the ballad. I hadn’t even gotten past explaining the content of the lyrics when MacKay preempted me, mumbling something along the lines of “yeah, I bet that made you uncomfortable.”

It was clearly meant to be a private comment to himself in the way of adolescents, but we could all make it out. Aidan said MacKay’s name sharply, in warning or reprimand, but I was already spider-webbing through the potential implications of his statement in my head. I asked them what that meant.

Aidan and Evander shared a glance, and seemed to silently come to an agreement.

I can’t usually remember well enough to give exact quotes, but Evander was picking his words so carefully that I recall them clearly. He said “there’s a rumor going around that you’re a... spy for the Government.”

I thought he meant people were saying I was working for the mayor, and I protested that that didn’t make any sense. I’d only met her once and wasn’t familiar enough to get any more than surface information.

“No,” he clarified. “Capital ‘G’ Government. Not the local one.” He said most of the townsfolks’ interaction with any governing body larger than the local government was when tax collectors did in fact come to town, or when some new ordinance was decreed that required public observance. It was all very mysterious to them and seemed unaware of and uninterested in their actual needs—and that bred suspicion and contempt. Any outsider became a potential threat.

However, Aidan added with a pointed look at MacKay, not everyone in town was foolish enough to buy into the rumors. MacKay protested that he didn’t believe them, that it was just a bit of hazing that every new person to the town had to undergo. He rattled off a couple of names I didn’t recognize before Evander cut him off by saying that just because it had been done before didn’t make it right to do again. MacKay countered that it wasn’t his idea, and that reprimanding him wouldn’t keep me safe from the adults who might take the rumors more seriously.

I asked what that meant—was I unsafe here? Evander and Aidan agreed that I absolutely was not. For the entire time they’d lived here (and for Aidan, that was his entire life), there had never been a case of significant violence between townsfolk. It would not come to that, they assured me.

Still, it’s all very nerve-wracking.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

It’s the middle of the night and I’ve just thought of something. Clearly the bartender did think I was a Government agent there to suss out illegal activity, as Evander said.

Because if he didn’t, he would have had no reason to try and bribe me.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I decided perhaps it was best if I wasn’t around in town too much—they can’t call me a spy if I’m not spying, right? So, I decided to spend some of my down time exploring the wilderness around Greenmoor without the pressure of a patient waiting on me.

The two major remaining areas that seem reasonably safe to traverse with what resources I have currently are Glimmerwood Grove and Hero’s Hollow. I wasn’t much in the mood to deal with a dungeon today—nor the denizens and adventurers therein—so the choice was fairly clear. I brought Ailean with me, so I could better attune with her, and so she might help with the secondary reason for my outing.

In addition to just wanting to be out of town, I went to the grove to see if I could find a princess toad, which one of my predecessor’s notes mentioned lived in the tangled undergrowth. Not only are several of their byproducts useful reagents, but I thought it might be nice to give Ailean some company—or at least show her where she could find it if she ever grew bored.

Glimmerwood Grove is genuinely beautiful, a forest in full Spring bloom. The undergrowth is dense, and seems reluctant to accept any human attempts to create walking paths—it encroaches upon or obscures even those close to the edge of the wood. Despite the near-total cover of the canopy, the entire place is kept well-lit by some means invisible to me (hence, I suppose, ‘Glimmerwood’). The whole place has an air of magic to it.

As I walked further into the grove, I found (as predicted) less and less path to follow. The patches that were bare of undergrowth this deep were blanketed by healthy colonies of moss. The sound of bells came faintly, from where I couldn’t tell.

I was staring off to my left—I thought I’d seen movement in between the trees and was looking to see if I could catch more—when Ailean made a noise that brought my attention to the ground in front of me. There, I saw a clutter of small pellets. Having lived with Ailean for nearly a week, I could recognize the size and shape as those of toad droppings, but the color was a strange lavender.

Well, I may not have found the toad itself, but these droppings were a useful reagent all their own. I used a small scoop (I brought it with me on my journey from Edith’s) and gathered enough for one use. There wasn’t enough for two, and despite its color the smell was enough to dissuade me from storing any more than I needed.

I got what I needed onto the scoop and stood, and that’s when I saw it.

Standing a few meters down the path was a pure white horse with a horn coming out of its forehead. It was looking directly at me, standing stock still. Sitting here writing this, I’m still shaken. Unicorns are of the domain of bedtime stories, fairy legends, explorers’ tales. They aren’t real.

And yet.

I went to take a step towards it and it immediately turned and trotted away into the woods. I could have sworn it grew translucent before it disappeared among the trees.

My first week here has been… fucking hell, it’s been a lot. That was just the cherry on top.

An enormous, unheard of, vaguely portentous cherry.

I’m going to bed.

⇦●〇●⇨

[ieattaperecorders]

Something’s Different About You Lately - Chapter 11: Going Out

Jon looks to the future.

* * *

The streetlights were coming on. One of them caught Jon's eye, flickering for a moment before settling. Its light didn't make it very far into the alleyway, cut off by the shadow of the institute building. As the sky grew dark, the last few feet of pavement were completely obscured. Something could easily stand in that shadow, unseen by anyone walking by.

The words can I have a cigarette popped into Jon's mind as he pulled out the slim package of Silk Cut, placed one between his lips, and lit it. His lighter was cheap yellow plastic, disposable and meaningless. There was no lighter with a spiderweb pattern in his pocket. Like the table, it had never been delivered.

That lighter. He wondered, as he inhaled nicotine and acetaldehyde, why he could think about it now. His mind had simply slid off it before, even when it was brought to his attention. Only recently had it finally occurred to him how strange it had been, to hold onto a thing like that for so long. He'd been made not to notice it. Why was he allowed to realize that now?

Maybe he'd been freed from something. More likely, they didn't need the lighter anymore, didn't need to hide their influence on him. They knew that there was nothing he could do.

Annabelle's words rang in his memory as he took another drag, telling him that addiction was one of the most powerful vectors of control. She wasn't wrong, and maybe he shouldn't be smoking at all right now. But the old lie of just one more still had its pull. Any fractional part of himself he might be feeding to the spiders with every puff seemed as irrelevant as lung cancer at this point. Besides, this really was his last cigarette. He knew a surefire way to quit.

Still a couple of hours until it would begin, and there was nothing to do but wait and contemplate. Everything was ready. It had been ready for some time, really. If he was honest with himself, he'd been putting this off. Stalling, telling himself he needed more time, when the reality was that he just didn't want to go through with it. It was strange that he was still afraid to die. After everything he'd been through – more importantly, everything that was at stake – one might expect him to go to his end stoically, even with relief. Comforted by some notion that he was making a noble sacrifice. Or by the darker hope that so many cross that line with, that at the end of it all there will be rest.

He didn't feel noble. He didn't feel like some soldier in a Tennyson poem, riding boldly and well into death. He felt like Alexei in the endless trench at the end of the world – scared, powerless, yearning for a home that had ceased to exist. All he had in him was a dull, cold ache, broken by the occasional stab of fear as he contemplated how little time was left. He supposed Terminus's torments got everyone in the end.

It would be nice, though, if he could be stoic. He didn't like thinking his last hours would be spent fighting down dread.

Another puff. The smoke made patterns in the air around him, the abstract shape of his breath outlined in ash and tar. As he watched it dissipate, the light hit it at a particular angle and for a moment – fast, but unmistakable – he saw the interlacing tendrils of a spider's web. With a start, he dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his shoe.

Dying wasn't so bad, he told himself. Everyone did it eventually. And there were far worse things than death.

There was still time before Rosie would leave for the night, and he decided to treat himself to a last meal. He considered getting something extravagant or indulgent, but in the end all he wanted was a sandwich and soup from the nearby cafe, so it would be that. One more simple comfort, with enough calories to get him through this final push.

As he passed the front of the Institute he saw Martin sitting on the steps, staring out across the street and scribbling something in a little notebook.

Jon froze. He hadn't expected to run into anyone. "Oh. Hello."

". . . Hi." Martin seemed likewise surprised to see him, quickly stuffing the notebook into his bag. In the back of his mind, Jon wondered if he'd been writing poetry. "You, uh . . . coming to the meeting later?"

Martin was choosing his words carefully, he noticed. At least someone was taking his warnings about Elias seriously.

"Yes. Ah, yes," he replied. "I'll see you there."

Martin nodded. Jon began to walk past him, but after a few feet he stopped and turned.

"Have you eaten?" he blurted out. Martin blinked, surprised, and he continued. "I, ah, was just going to get something from the cafe down the street. If you'd like to join me."

He spoke stiffly and too fast, and maybe that was what made Martin pause – the nervousness apparent in Jon's demeanor. The weight he couldn't keep from placing on the question.

"Um. You mean. . . ?"

He could almost see Martin doing calculations. Weighing the intensity of everything that had happened that day, and Jon's own confusing outburst earlier. They'd eaten at that cafe before, but only during work hours. Did it mean something else if it was dinner?

Jon wanted to say yes, it meant exactly what he thought it did and more. But now was the one time when he really, truly couldn't, not with what he knew was coming. It would be too cruel. He'd had countless chances to tell Martin how he felt, and he hadn't taken them, and now it was too late.

"I mean," he said gently "that I think we could both use a little time to just relax. And not think about everything that's been happening. That's all."

"O-oh. Right. Of course." Was he disappointed? Embarrassed? Relieved? Jon truly couldn't tell. "Um, yeah. That sounds good. Let me just get my coat."

He vanished into the institute, leaving Jon outside. He wondered if it had been a mistake to ask. If he should have just left on his own, come back alone, and done what had to be done. Then Martin came back out, wrapping a scarf around his throat, and smiled when their eyes met.

After that, he didn't worry or wonder. He smiled back.

* * *

Jon's thoughts were scattered, and Martin's presence beside him as they walked was a source of gravity, pulling him back to the same questions, over and over. Would he believe Jon after he explained everything? Would he take it poorly? More than anything else . . . when it was over, all of it, would he be all right? Perhaps predictably, Martin was the one to actually break the silence.

"So . . . look. We don't have to talk about Sasha, or Tim, or–" he waved his hand, indicating anything and nothing. "All of that. It's just, today's been rough, and you're being really quiet, and . . . ."

A quiet warmth rose in Jon's chest. ". . . You want to know if I'm all right."

"Basically?"

"I'm . . . as all right as I'm going to be. Under the current circumstances," he sighed. "I'll let you know if I feel a nervous breakdown coming on."

Martin gave him an uncertain look, as if he might be serious, but when Jon smiled he seemed to realize he was joking. "Ah. Well . . . Sasha took hers this weekend, so the rest of us are probably due."

"Seems only fair."

"Maybe we can set up a schedule? ‘Oh, Tuesday – that means it's Tim's turn to do the dishes in the break room and Martin's to scream in the storage closet.'" He shook his head. "We're a mess, huh? The four of us."

"Could be worse. No one's murdered anyone else, or threatened a coworker with a deadly weapon. Those are a couple of points in our favor," he paused for a moment, then added. ". . . That was a joke."

"I should hope so. Sheesh. If I'm ever in a position to send out job applications again, remind me not to use you as a reference. Can't imagine what you'd say about my perfect no-homicide streak."

That made Jon pause. He tiled his head, considering. "I'm not sure that you actually have one . . . we did kill Jane Prentiss?"

"I – what? She wasn't even really alive, though, was she? That can't possibly count."

"Mm. Maybe not." He had his doubts, but how much of Jane had truly been there when they killed her wasn't a question he wanted to dig into at that moment. "Either way, since I was the one to set off the alarm, you were really more of an accomplice."

"And there's self-defense? She was trying to eat us, it doesn't get much more threatening than that."

Jon smirked. "It'd be a bold strategy, arguing that to a jury."

The last few blocks to the cafe had passed without him really noticing, and the two of them went inside. As they settled at a table, he turned to Martin.

"What would you actually do? If you could leave?" he asked. "If you really were sending out applications."

Martin paused in draping his coat over the back of the chair, startled by the question."Is this a, ‘what would you do if money didn't matter' sort of thing, or like –"

"No. Money is the same. Everything is the same, just the institute's gone. What would you do?"

"Dunno? Try to get another library job, I guess, since it's what I have experience in. Suppose that's not a very interesting answer."

"It's a reasonable one."

"I liked it in the library, though. I guess it suited me . . . it was quiet and easy to keep things organized. Easier than the archive, at least," he shrugged, sitting down. "What about you? What would you do if you could quit?"

Oh. Fair question, one Jon should have realized he was opening himself to after asking Martin the same. He really wasn't sure what to say. Starting over outside the Institute . . . it was something he used to think about, occasionally. In Scotland he would allow himself silly, idle thoughts of the two of them settling there. Laying low, maybe finding work in the tiny village somewhere or in his more fanciful moments living ‘off the land' in some impossibly nonspecific way.

His mind still drifted the safehouse from time to time, but it was only a daydream. His already impractical, half-formed plans had turned into soothing fantasies disconnected from any reality – too perfect and comforting to bother with the question of how they paid for groceries.

"Hard to say. The supernatural has seemed like such an inescapable thing for a while now. I – I know it's only been a year. But it's still hard to imagine myself outside the archive anymore." He sucked air in through his teeth. "Which sounds awfully grim, I'm sure."

"I think I might get it. Honestly . . . this is going to sound just awful, but after you told us about the no-quitting thing, I think a part of me was relieved? Just a small part. But I'd been anxious about losing this job on and off for a while now, and on some level I guess I was just glad I wouldn't need to worry about that."

"Martin . . ." Jon said softly. "You – we can't think like that. You're not better off at the Institute."

"Oh, I know. I mean, I get it. Like I said . . . just a small part," he shrugged. "But you already know this is the only real job I've ever had. And even before the supernatural stuff, it's not like I had much of a life outside of it."

"You seem to get along with people, though," he said. "Hannah, and the others from the library. You talk with nearly everyone, don't you?"

"I guess . . . but only at work. Which kind of proves my point."

Jon nodded slowly, looking down at his hands. Once again found his mind returning to would he be all right? He knew that there were a thousand, thousand ways for a person to be trapped somewhere. After a moment of silence, he continued.

"Er. How is Hannah doing?"

"Oh. All right, I suppose. She's got her due date set, so she's making plans for that."

"Right . . . you know," he cleared his throat. "I don't think I know half the people outside the archive as well as you do."

"Well, I've been here a lot longer. You at least know Yolanda right? I saw you two talking last week, it looked like you were getting on."

"I suppose? I mentioned liking cats, and she sort of cornered me. Wouldn't let me leave until she'd gone through every detail of hers."

"Heh, that sounds right."

"I don't mind seeing photos of people's pets, obviously. But she insists on calling them her ‘fur babies' which really is an horrific term. . . ."

From there they got to talking about others in the Institute who had strange quirks with their pets. Apparently Iris had brought their bearded dragon into the library one afternoon and it had gotten loose in the stacks. Jon observed with a smirk that this seemed to be a pattern around Martin, which to his delight managed to fluster him a little. He stammered something about how he'd checked with the shelter and the dog had been adopted already, so Jon could rest easy knowing it wouldn't find it's way back there, thank you very much.

Listening to him speak, Jon found himself thinking about how much Martin noticed about other people. Little things that escaped Jon or fell through the sieve of his memory somehow stood out to him. It was a bit embarrassing to realize there were still colleagues of his in research that Martin knew better than he did.

Martin also had more than a small streak for gossip, a quality that hadn't had much chance to come up much in the time he'd spent with Jon in that other life. It was a recklessly endearing thing to discover, and the time passed quickly as they talked.

". . . And there's the live lobster that Rosie won in a raffle," Martin said, finishing out a story. "But you probably know about that one already, pretty sure she told everyone about it."

"Not everyone. Not me, anyway."

Jon's mind momentarily drifted to a cold, echoing tower, to a sense of being caught eavesdropping, and of swallowed regret. It was usually how he felt around Rosie nowadays. Things weren't made much easier by the fact that whenever they made eye contact he heard Jonah's voice saying "Nosy Rosie" in the back of his mind, and he'd grown vaguely terrified that one day he'd just say it out loud without thinking.

"I find it little hard to talk to her, though," he added. "And I don't think she's especially fond of me."

Martin balked at that. "Rosie? Come on, she likes everyone."

"No one likes everyone, Martin."

"Okay, fine. But, still, she's like, the most laid back person in the whole building. How is she of all people hard to talk to? Unless –" a thought seemed to occur to him. "Oh, wait – is this something to do with Elias? Is she, like, his henchman or something? Is she in on it?"

"What? No, no, it's nothing like that . . . though I suppose her closeness to Elias doesn't help. I can't exactly talk with her about . . . well, any of this."

"So talk to her about something else, then!" Martin's tone had taken on a determined edge, and Jon feared he had a point that he was making. "I know you can talk about things that aren't terrible, dire secrets. Tell her about emulsifiers or something."

"I don't know . . ." Jon shifted in his chair. "I think I lost the art of conversation somewhere."

"Oh, come on. You talk to me all the time, and Sasha and Tim . . . ."

". . . That's different."

Heat was rising to Jon's face, and it occurred to him that he should probably just agree with whatever Martin said in the hopes that they could move past this point in the conversation. But he just didn't have it in him not to be contrary over this – an energy that seemed to only feed into Martin's.

"Come on, pretend I'm Rosie." Martin folded his arms and leaned forward on his elbows, looking at Jon. "Tell me something about yourself. Talk about your hobbies or something."

"Hobbies . . ." Jon shook his hand, quietly baffled. "I don't know . . . I read a lot? I used to collect sea glass, but not really lately."

He sounded boring even to himself, but he couldn't think of a hobby that he'd stuck to for any real amount of time. What had he done with himself before his days were spent desperately scrabbling against a tide of supernatural horror? He thought back.

"Oh. Well, I did a little bit of theater in college. And I was in a band for about a year and a half."

That got Martin's attention. "You were in a band? Like, a real one?"

"I don't know what makes a band ‘real' or not," he shrugged. "We weren't imaginary."

"Fair enough, I suppose. Would I have heard of you?"

"Are you – are you still being Rosie, or –?"

"No, I guess not. I'm just curious. Would I have?"

"Definitely not. Not unless you happened to attend open mics around Oxford, or were a regular at the only bar that ever let us play," he waved his hand, already embarrassed that he'd brought it up and eager to move past it. "It was just myself and a few friends, really it was an excuse to blow off steam."

"Huh. What kind of music did you play?"

"Oh God. Experimental, I guess? Sort of industrial, but also operatic, maybe? Not – not what you're thinking of probably, but –" he huffed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not describing it very well."

He looked up to see Martin leaning forward subtly, arms on the table, a look of eager curiosity on his face. He was smiling. It was a nice smile, not nervous, not tired and worn down or wry, and Jon wanted to stop everything there. Stop time from moving forward, so that Martin could keep smiling like that, just for a while.

Nothing matters anymore, he thought.

"Hell with it," he said, reaching for his phone. "Would you like to see pictures?"

"Um, yes?" Martin said. "Absolutely."

Jon sighed, but felt a smile pulling at his face. "I'll warn you, they aren't very flattering. And almost all of them were taken in the dim light."

He thumbed through his photo albums until he reached what he was looking for, then passed his phone across the table. Martin took it, looking at the picture and then back at Jon, as if comparing the two.

"Huh," he said diplomatically, biting his lower lip. Jon was just glad he wasn't openly laughing. "You look different."

"Mmm. My hair was longer then."

"The makeup is nice. Are the silver things stars?"

"Oh. Yes . . ." Jon frowned, trying to remember details. "We each had sort of a character we played, though the backstories kept changing. Mine was a space explorer, I think? Honestly, I don't remember very well, and I don't think it was ever fully fleshed out."

"Have the others seen these?" Martin asked, flipping through them with growing delight.

Jon shook his head. "I've told Tim that I used to sing. But I'm fairly sure he thought I meant a school choir, and I didn't correct him. I haven't told Sasha at all, though I suppose it's always possible she's found out on her own."

"Really?" That made Martin pause and look back at him. Still smiling, pleased to have a secret, but surprised. "Why show me, then?"

Because I love you. Jon thought. Because I'm going to be dead in a few hours, and seeing the surprise and delight on your face is one of the last and greatest pleasures that I'll ever know. Because I want to give you so much, and I can't. I want to give you every wonderful thing you deserve, and I won't. All I can give you is this, and it's so small and stupid and pointless, but it's all that I have.

"I suppose I'm just in a sharing mood," he said.

* * *

Dinner passed far more quickly than Jon would have ever expected, and it was with a sigh that he finally looked at the time and realized it had nearly run out.

"We should probably be getting back."

A stab of something ran through him as he said it – fear, regret, or resolve, he couldn't tell. But it was soft, and didn't linger. Martin nodded and frowned as he looked at the bill.

"Forgot to ask them to split it," he muttered.

"Let me," Jon reached forward, gently slipping it from under his fingers. "It's the least I can do."

Martin hesitated, then said "I'll get the next one."

He managed half of a nod in response, he couldn't bear to agree out loud, it would feel too much like a lie. A moment later the bill was paid, and the two of them started back towards the Institute. As they left, Jon put a hand on Martin's arm.

"Thank you for this," he said, squeezing slightly before letting him go. "I . . . well, I think I really needed it."

The surprise in Martin's face at Jon's touch quickly turned into something softer, and he smiled down at him. "Anytime, Jon. Really."

The two of them walked back in silence.

* * *

Tim was still in the archive, meaning Sasha had managed to convince him not to go off in search of the circus again. Melanie had also arrived, brought in by the unavoidably cryptic voice message he'd left on her phone. She seemed to be in conversation with Sasha.

Jon nodded at them. "You're all here. Good."

"What's going on?" Melanie said. "You claim it's urgent that I come but you don't say why, and it seems to me like no one else knows either."

"Not here." He held up a hand and turned, gesturing for them to follow. "We can talk in the tunnels, I'll explain everything there."

[timep3tals]

I love your writing!!! You’re amazing!!! Since I’m a sucker for iron dad calling peter all sorts of nicknames, could you pretty please write something about Tony calling peter baby or whatever else you want?

Thank you so much!!! That means so much to me to hear. And of course I can. :)

Typically, in relationships, you couldn’t pinpoint the pivotal moment of change. There were too many nuances, too many emotions, too many distractions to say, “This is the moment where everything changed.”

With Peter and Tony, Peter knew exactly when everything changed.

Peter saw it in his mentor’s face when Thanos grabbed him. Peter saw it in the terrified slope of Tony’s mouth when the titan squeezed, and his ribs snapped under the force and punctured his lungs. Peter saw it when Tony launched everything he had at Thanos, at the desperation to save Peter’s life, while it lay in the balance on a world so far from home.

When the Titan fell, defeated and dead on the burgundy sands of his old home world, Peter knew nothing would ever be the same. Not with the way Tony’s shadow covered him as his mentor kneeled by Peter’s side. Not with the way shaking hands brushed over Peter’s cheek, smearing the blood leaking out from between his teeth.

The world went dark before Peter ever heard Tony call out, “Peter? Peter, bud, open your eyes.”

Thankfully, Strange was there. He put Peter’s body into a stasis long enough to get him back to earth, to the compound where Strange and Helen Cho pieced him back together. Recovery was hell, but Tony was there every step of the way. Literally, every step. He was fussed around Peter worse than May.

Probably because he’d been there to see the life leave Peter’s eyes.

But he tried not to think about how close to death he’d been that day.

Since then, and post-recovery, Peter’s relationship with Tony has been different. Not in a bad way, but it was noticeably different. Three days a week, Tony picked him up from Midtown and took him out for dinner, or to the park, or on some obscure mini-trip bafflingly approved by May. Every other weekend was spent at the compound with Tony, working in the workshop or generally hanging out.

Turns out, Tony was horrible at Sorry, which Peter thought was hilarious. But any card game they played, Tony won without fail. It was actually somewhat infuriating, especially because Peter knew Tony was cheating, he just wasn’t sure how.

Regardless of what they did, everything was different. For one…

“Hey, bambino,” a soft voice crooned somewhere above his head. Peter twitched, but didn’t quite stir from semi-consciousness. “Peter, baby, it’s time to get up.”

The nicknames. The nicknames were definitely new. Not like, new to this exact instance because Peter would’ve shat himself if he heard bambino for the first time (he sort of did, the actual first time). But new since they’d returned from space. Tony always had nicknames for him, of course, Underoos, Spidey, Kid, so on and so forth, but not these types of nicknames.

Not these gentle ones, the ones that made Peter feel treasured, and special, and so very loved.

“Earth to Peter Pan,” Tony said. A finger poked against Peter’s cheek. “Baby, I know you can hear me. I see you trying to fight a smile, you’re not slick.”

The smile burst out from the cage Peter had tried to put it in. He stretched and rolled to face Tony where he sat beside Peter on his bed. A warm, familiar hand caressed two knuckles down his cheek, so light even Peter could barely feel it.

“G’mornin’,” Peter mumbled. He peeked an eye open and caught sight of a smile that made his heart flip. “What time’sst?”

“Time for Spider-Baby to eat breakfast,” Tony said. The hand vanished for a moment, and came back with a sleeve bunched over the thumb to smooth away a line of drool going down Peter’s cheek. “And take a shower. You drooled a small ocean on your pillow.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.” 

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

Peter pouted. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re gross,” Tony shot right back. The smile didn’t vanish, only grew, as Tony dipped down and pressed a kiss right above Peter’s brow. “Come on, baby, it’s almost noon.” 

The clock read 9:04 am. Tony, seeing where his eyes went, tried for another tactic.

“I made you pancakes.”

Oh no. Peter squinted suspiciously. “Made or ordered?”

Tony huffed, feigning indignance. “I can cook, you know. I’m an adult, we can do things like cook pancakes.”

They stared each other down. Peter squinted harder. Tony narrowed his eyes in return. Peter raised one eyebrow the way Pepper always did when unimpressed, and Tony immediately caved.

“Oh, fine, I ordered them,” Tony said. “Ungrateful little brat.”

“The last time you made pancakes, you burned both sides. I shockingly don’t like burnt pancakes!”

Tony sighed wearily. “So you’ve said. Now, are you going to help me eat those pancakes or should I help myself to everything?”

“I’ll get up,” Peter acquiesced. If only so his mentor didn’t eat all of his pancakes. “Shower first?”

“Please,” Tony said. Tossing his legs over the side of his bed, Peter hopped up to grab the change of clothes Tony had already set out for him on his dresser. “I can’t have a drool-covered Spider-Baby at my respectable kitchen table. Not in my Christian neighborhood.”

Peter groaned. “That is such an old meme, stop. You’re so old.”

“Excuse me? I am not old, Peter Pan! I am comfortably middle aged!”

The door to the bathroom was inside his room. Peter still hadn’t quite gotten used to having an ensuite, but he’ll admit it definitely had a lot of perks. He swung the door open, and sent Tony a cheery smile back over his shoulder.

“Only old people say they’re comfortably middle aged!”

To the sound of Tony’s spluttering, Peter closed the bathroom door and tried his best to muffle his laughter at the affronted look on his mentor’s face. Once he heard the telltale signs of Tony getting off the bed, Peter cracked the door back open and stuck his head out of the bathroom. Tony looked up, mouth parted on a soundless sigh.

“I love you,” Peter said.

A slideshow of emotions passed over Tony’s face in a matter of two seconds. Finally, he seemed to settle on a nameless emotion that hurt to see, and Peter’s eyes began to burn when his mentor replied, “I love you, too, baby. More than anything or anyone.”

Tag List:

@keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @riseuplikeglitterandgold @just-the-daydreamer @roaringgay @serendipity–goddess @tony-wheres-my-supersuit @baloobird @spider-beep @swagfictonreadingnerd @tcny-stcrks @josywbu (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed!)

[sundimus]

Request for Fado! 21. “This. This makes it all worth it.” / Lacenet or siblings. (Went with Lacenet for this one!) /// Hallownest has not had a festival in a long time.

Back then, the festivities of the kingdom were the most anticipated events that the common bug would spend days and weeks and months looking forward to. A time where friends and family would all celebrate and feast together - a time of bonding and enjoying the joys that life has to offer. Hornet remembers growing up with the celebrations. While Deepnest had it’s own cultural celebrations, she had always been involved in the kingdom’s festivities as well. She remembers the excitement and the joy of it all - the lights and music and food that brought every comfort and feelings of camaraderie. The Pale King had even allowed Pure Vessel to carry Hornet around so she could participate in the activities herself, ever her steady babysitter. Hornet thinks back fondly at the memory of her forcing her sibling to take her everywhere she could possibly go - very demanding in a child-like way. Hollow had never complained back then. Of course, they wouldn’t have even if they wanted to, but Hornet can only hope that they had just as much fun back then as she did; even if they had tried to not feel it. It was during those times that she had felt closest to them, after all. But then the Infection happened, and all causes for celebration had been halted indefinitely. Enough time had passed and enough people had died to where most of the meanings behind the festivals had become lost. Hornet had been too young to remember them herself, but she figures that either Hollow or Lemm might know some meanings if she were to ask. However, time does heal wounds eventually. Elderbug had mentioned how he missed the annual Flower Festival - a time where, back when Dirtmouth still grew flowers and plants before the stasis, everyone would come together to eat and dance and converse with each other. He missed the sense of community and trust. Having loved the concept, Ghost and Ghoul had the idea to throw another flower festival again, despite flowers no longer being able to grow in Dirtmouth. But her siblings are stubborn, and had immediately traveled together to Greenpath to not only pick the flowers they can find there, but to also get Sheo’s help in crafting paper flowers to use as decorations. She sits on the ground in front of their shared house, waiting patiently for them to come home. “Are you excited, darling spider?” A soft sing-song voice sounds next to her, and an even warmer presence settles down beside her. “For tomorrow?” She looks at her girlfriend, who gives her a smile in return. “You mean for decorating this bleak and dull wasteland with flowers? I can’t wait.” She hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic - a part of her is genuinely enjoying the thought of participating in another celebration together with her family. Lace laughs softly at her comment. “Well this “bleak and dull wasteland” is your home now, so -” “Our.” “Hm?” “This isn’t just my home. You live here now, too. This is our home.” Hornet reaches over to grab one of Lace’s hands. “Me and you. Always.” “Oh... right,” Lace blushes, but squeezes her hand tighter, moving a little closer so their shoulders touch. “Always.” Any other words vanish for the moment, the serene quietness of the town and the brisk coolness of the air covering both of them comfortingly in the night. Neither of them say anything, each lost in their own thoughts. Hornet’s mind drifts to her mother, and how she might react to her throwing another festival so early after the death of a kingdom. She wonders if Herrah would approve and if she might have even wanted to help decorate the place as well. Maybe she’d even want to indulge in the activities herself. She wonders what it would be like to dance with Herrah properly for the first time. She knows she shouldn’t dwell on possibilities that have no chance of ever coming true, but she can’t help it. She wants to dance with her mother. “I’ve never been to a festival before,” Lace speaks up first, her voice cutting through the silence. “Pharloom doesn’t have festivals?” Hornet asks, a bit surprised. She figured that Lace’s vibrant and out-going personality would be naturally attracted to something like parties. “There is, but...” Lace shrugs. “I wasn’t allowed to go to any of them.” “Ah. My apologies, then.” “Don’t feel sorry for me. It was just one of those things, you know? But that’s alright - tomorrow means that I get to spend my first ever celebration with you. Seems worth it to me.” Hornet feels heat rush to her face, but squeezes her hand. “Yes. That makes it more special, I suppose.” “The party will be fun. I’m sure of it. Everyone laughing and having fun and being alive, despite everything that has happened. That all counts for something, right?” Hornet agrees. “It might make everything be worth it in the end.” -.x.-.x.-.x.- The “festival” itself had been put together fairly decently. The fake flowers that her siblings had made with Sheo were strung between the houses, a bunch of different bright colors almost lighting up the area. The real flowers they had picked had been woven onto handmade bracelets that everyone had been given to wear, should they choose. There definitely wasn’t as many people around that Hornet had been used to seeing at the Palace festivals, but a lot more had appeared than what she had been expecting. Of course Elderbug, Bretta, Cornifer, and Iselda were all present, along with Cloth, Myla, Tiso, and Quirrel. Ghost had brought Umbra to the party as well, and Hornet could see their bright wings flutter around the area excitedly. The Grimm troupe members are also celebrating with them. “How rude we would be should we ignore such a joyous occasion,” Grimm had said. Hornet suspects that Hollow is somewhere with him at the moment. Their presence is considerably welcomed - Brumm’s music seems to be echoing around the area, providing a great atmosphere for everyone involved. Hornet can see Ghoul and Elderbug dancing to the sound, although Elderbug’s “dancing” seems to be him just rocking back and forth slowly. Even though he likes to complain about too many people in Dirtmouth - specifically about the Troupe in general - Hornet has never seen him look happier. She’s not surprised that Ghost had managed to make so many friends and allies. Her smallest sibling certainly had an aura about them that was very gravitational. She feels arms wrap around her and instinctively tenses, ready to draw her needle, but the all-too-familiar laughter she hears from the “attacker” stops her. She turns around to see Lace’s gleeful face, and she relaxes instantaneously. “Nice to see you too, Lace.” “And it is always a pleasure to see you, spiderling,” she replies, moving her arms to wrap around Hornet’s neck. Hornet rests her hands on Lace’s waist, and they start moving their feet in a simple, slow, one-two dance. They don’t focus on anything else around them, their eyes solely locked onto each other. In the distance, Hornet thinks she can hear Ghost shrieking, but everything seems to drown out as she gets more and more lost in Lace’s warmth. She moves forward and rests her head on the other girl’s shoulder, engulfing her in a hug just to hold her. “Is the festival worth it now?” Lace laughs. “Yes,” Hornet replies softly, closing her eyes. Her voice holds a gentleness that she is not accustomed to just yet. “This makes it all worth it. I love you.” She feels Lace stiffen, and she pulls back slightly to look at her, suddenly worried that she had gone too far or had admitted her feelings too strongly. To her surprise, and somewhat relief, Lace doesn’t look upset. Instead, she looks shocked, and, if Hornet had to guess, hopeful. “Did you mean that?” Lace asks, her voice holding an excitement so prominent that it almost sounds breathless. “Yes - yes I did,” Hornet responds, now feeling a bit embarrassed. She has never said “I love you” to anyone other than her family before - she remembers learning the meaning as a little girl and shouting it to her mother and Hollow whenever she saw them, but that was so long ago. This is the first time she’s told someone who she was genuinely in love with that she loved them. Lace is the first person she has ever truly fallen in love with. That fact both excites and terrifies her. Lace visibly brightens even more, a wide grin spreading across her face. “Oh, Hornet! That makes me so happy to hear! I love you too; of course I do!” She feels a surge of courage at Lace’s response, and she blurts out her thoughts before she can stop herself. “May I kiss you?” Lace’s smile turns softer, and she lays a hand on Hornet’s cheek. “Yes,” she whispers. “Always.” They kiss surrounded by laughter and music and countless stars.

[fruit-teeth]

Matters of Time and Fate (15)

It was the early hours of the morning when Olivia awoke. It was that time in between night and day when it was still dark, yet there may be a hint or two of sunlight just over the horizon. But Olivia’s room was oppressively dark when she awoke with a gasp, clutching her sheets.

She took a moment to try and calm herself down, though she whimpered out loud. She’d had a nightmare—she didn’t even want to think about it, and the more she sat up with eyes wide open, the more she slowly started to forget it. She only remembered one image, and it was of her father…he had been staring at her, from a distance, and while normally she would have been happy to see him, she had felt frightened. She had run away from him, for the very first time.

Though Olivia could not quite recall the details of the dream, the feeling of fear made her feel incredibly on edge. Her tiny body trembled as she pulled her blanket tighter around herself, though out of the corner of her eye, it did not help that the stack of clothing sitting on her chair looked vaguely like a person. Though part of her knew it wasn’t, the sight alone was enough to have her pressing her eyes shut, trying not to see it and hoping that would make the fear go away.

Just then, the squeaking of floorboards in the hallway caught Olivia’s attention. She opened her eyes again, looking towards the door and listening. She heard the bathroom door open, and then close again, and moments later, the familiar sound of the shower started. The sound woke up something in Olivia, and she remembered when her father would get ready in the mornings, and how she would lay in the adjacent hallway while he showered and subsequently fall asleep to the sounds of the water. While her father did not like her doing that, and he had told her many times that he did not like it, it had never stopped her. She longed for the comfort of the warm hallway and the relaxing sounds of water, and when she heard the shower running, she did not stop herself from climbing out of bed and opening the door to the hallway.

Olivia wandered into the hall, which was still quite dark as everyone else was still asleep and the sunlight had not entered this part of the house yet. She approached the bathroom, hearing the running water getting closer, and it was outside the closed door that she noticed the laundry basket. She touched the clothes, and they felt warm, meaning they had just come out of the dryer. Without even truly thinking about it, Olivia crawled into the basket and settled into the warm clothes, curling up in them as she listened to the shower water rattle against the pipes. Almost instantly, she forgot about the nightmare and the darkness of her father’s presence, and she closed her eyes, soaking up the warmth of the clothes and the sounds of the water from the other side of the door. There, she fell right asleep again, and though it wasn’t a terribly long sleep, it was dreamless and calm, a comfort compared to what she had previously.

Olivia woke moments later to the feeling of someone gently lifting her out of the basket and carrying her, though she was still so groggy with sleep that she did not fully process who it was. As the person carried Olivia into her bedroom and laid her down in her own bed, Olivia tried to say something to let them know she was awake.

She barely registered that she had made a noise, but the figure putting her to bed just whispered, “Shh, go back to sleep,” before tucking her back into the blankets.

At this point, hazy rays of sunshine began to filter through the windows, and Olivia opened her eyes again, just in time to see the corner of a soft, plush bathrobe disappear down the hallway. Before she could contemplate what just happened, she fell right asleep again.

This moment felt like a dream to her later, when she woke up once again but this time to the sun completely out and the sky a sharp, bright blue. Olivia sat up, yawning, and rubbing her eyes, before the sound of a car door slamming got her attention. She glanced out the nearby window just as the Administrator’s car started up, backed out of the driveway, and headed down the winding road. Olivia watched it disappear over the hill as she stood up out of bed and headed into the hallway.

But it was on the staircase, though, that Olivia stopped completely in her tracks: there, on the next step sat the largest spider she had ever seen. It hardly looked real, but it was moving around, crawling across the step to the wall.

Olivia yelped when she saw it, and she looked all around, trying to find something she could crush it with. Just as she had picked up a nearby slipper, Sniper walked in from the other room.

“What are you fussin’ for?” he asked, stopping Olivia from crushing the spider.

“I found a huge, ugly spider!” Olivia informed him, pointing to it. “I’m gonna smash it!”

Sniper clicked his tongue, taking the slipper from her. “No, no. Don’t do that,”

“What?” Olivia scowled, trying to get the slipper back. “But it’s weird and big!”

“So?” Sniper asked. “What’s that got to do with it?” he picked up the spider with his hands like it was nothing, and before Olivia could say anything, he opened the nearby window and let the spider go. It scurried outside and vanished somewhere around the corner of the Townhouse, and Sniper closed the window once it was gone.

Olivia blinked in surprise, and she looked up at Sniper. “You don’t kill spiders?”

Sniper straightened up, scratching the back of his head. “I try not to kill them. Spiders are good, they kill pests,”

“Oh…” she looked back out the window in the direction of where the spider had disappeared. “But— but spiders are so gross…”

“Lots of things are gross,” Sniper pointed out. “But that doesn’t make them not important. Eating is gross, you ever think about how gross of a process that is?”

“No,” Olivia admitted. “But that’s different…”

“I know,” Sniper shrugged. “But still, you get what I’m saying, yeah?”

Olivia didn’t quite grasp what he was trying to get across, but she just nodded anyway. Sniper laughed, and he ushered her away from the stairs. “C’mon, Engineer just made breakfast for everyone,”

At the same time, Miss Pauling watched the scenery go by outside the car window as she and Helen drove out to meet with Phoenix Sage. She turned to look at Helen, observing her as she just watched the road ahead, an unreadable look in her eyes.

After a moment, Miss Pauling cleared her throat. “So…Helen, I don’t know if you’ve ever explained it, but…what happened between Security Republic and Mann Co.? I know they made security cameras for a long time, but…”

The Administrator sighed. “I would have thought Saxton Hale at least would have mentioned it to you, but I suppose not. It’s a bit of a long story…”

Miss Pauling fell quiet, before she assured, “I’d like to hear it. You can tell me,”

Helen’s hands gripped the steering wheel as she stared ahead at the road, and with a long breath in she began to speak: “Over thirty years ago, Mann Co. and Security Republic had a contract which stated that we would pay them for the security cameras they supplied to us. Yet the CEO of Security Republic at that time was Phoenix’s father, Isaac Sage, and he was a bit of a…showman, to say the least,”

“What do you mean?” Miss Pauling wanted to know.

“He had dreams for his company that went beyond security cameras,” Helen explained. “He wanted to build an empire, one that would provide everything people needed and wanted. Entertainment, appliances, food, delivery services…he wanted to manufacture it all. But there was something else he wanted,”

Helen paused as she focused back on the road, turning the corner down the road. She continued after a few seconds. “Isaac wanted to merge the two companies. He brought it up constantly, though the Hales always had to tell him that it couldn’t be done. The Manns themselves were even offended that he ever brought it up, but that didn’t stop him…” she took another breath. “He felt that connecting the companies in any way, shape, or form would bring him closer to achieving this goal. He had lost his wife many years earlier, so he wanted to marry someone from the Mann family in hopes that this would lead to a potential merging of both companies, but since there were no women in the Mann family at that time…he asked me to marry him,”

“Really?” Pauling asked, shocked. “Wait— you said no, right?”

Helen just sighed. “I said yes,”

Pauling was shocked. “But…hang on, does that mean Phoenix is…?”

“No, of course not,” Helen assured quickly. “Phoenix was from Isaac’s first wife. He was about twelve years old when I married his father, but I never assumed the role of his mother. He had a nanny, anyhow, and she cared for him most of the time,”

“…oh, my god,” Miss Pauling just sat there for a moment, taking this in. She somehow couldn’t imagine Helen being married to a man—it seemed unrealistic to her.

Helen went on. “I was married to Isaac for almost ten years, which was far too many if I’m being honest. I only ever said yes so I could have access to his money. But he died, and when he did, Phoenix took his position immediately. He wanted to protect his father’s legacy and fulfill his wishes for the company, but in doing so, he wanted to merge the companies. Yet he was aggressive about it in a way Isaac never was, even threatening violence when he didn’t get his way,”

They were approaching Security Republic headquarters, now, and the building was slowly coming into sight. Helen just stared at it, driving slowly down the path to the parking lot. “That was when we ended our contract with Security Republic. A different provider began manufacturing cameras for us, and the Manns filed a restraining order against Sage and some associates of his. We did not hear from him again…” she pulled into a parking spot, turning the car off. “Until now.”

Miss Pauling processed all of this, feeling surprised that she had never heard about this before. She reached for her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, but she stopped to look back at Helen just as she was opening the car door. “Hey, Helen—what did Sage ask for in exchange for the Australium?”

Helen just grabbed her purse, settling it over her shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious? A merge with Mann Co. is what he wants,”

They headed into the building, and a security guard directed them to Sage’s office. As the door to the office opened, Sage was already at the desk, leaned back in his chair and grinning.

“Helen! Helen, my darling stepmother!” he greeted when he saw her, and he stood up to reach for her hand. “It’s been so long…”

Helen shook his hand, though she jerked it away afterwards as if she’d been burned. “I am not your stepmother anymore, Phoenix,”

Phoenix Sage clicked his tongue. “Oh, come on. You know I barely have anyone to call family anymore,”

“That’s not my problem,” Helen cleared her throat. “Now, about the deal…”

Sage sat back down at his desk, gesturing for her to sit. “I know you love that Australium of yours, but I feel an appropriate trade would be the amount we have left for a merge with Mann Co.,” he smiled again, his white teeth showing. “Saxton Hale refused my offer, but will you?”

Helen was quiet for a long moment. Slowly, she raised her hand and pointed in the direction of a storage container towards the back of the room. “Is the Australium being kept in there?”

“Who’s to say?” Phoenix shrugged, though the look on his face indicated that she was correct. He breathed loudly out of his nostrils. “Let’s not get distracted,”

“Phoenix,” Helen spoke up again. “You know we can’t merge the company with anything else. Hale just got back from under the control of Gray, merging it with your company would cause many financial problems.”

Phoenix hummed, his fingers tapping the desk. “Gosh, that’s too bad…but, it could be an amazing opportunity for you. We have opened several new factories here, we have our own television channels, and soon: I would like to open a department store!” he sighed wistfully, imagining it all. “Old dad would be so proud, wouldn’t he? You can be a part of it, while also getting your Australium…all you have to do is say yes,”

Miss Pauling looked towards Helen, waiting to see a reaction. Helen’s eyes narrowed as she stared back at Phoenix, before she began, “You must be losing your mind if you think I would ever sink my funds and this company into a venture like the one you have here. I’ll have you know I have ways of achieving the things I want that don’t involve pleasantries—it surprises me that you forget that about me so quickly,”

“Why do you even stay with Mann Co., anyway?” Phoenix snarked, sitting up taller. His expression had changed, his friendly demeanor melting away. “The Manns are all dead! You have no reason to stay sacked in their company anymore.”

“Oh, I have reasons,” Helen assured, her eyes narrowed into a glare. “And I will never let anyone, especially you, get in the way of my desires. Do you understand me?”

Phoenix leaned closer to Helen, looking her in the eyes. “Is that a threat?”

Helen’s eye twitched, though she did not back away from him. “What do you think?”

There was a long pause, before Phoenix pressed a button on his loudspeaker. “Joann,” he spoke into it. “Send security up into my office and escort these two women out,”

Miss Pauling stood up, reaching for a weapon from her bag. “Oh, no, you don’t! No way am I gonna let some security guard just—”

Before she could finish, Phoenix rounded his desk and shoved Miss Pauling to the floor, knocking her bag away from her. The doors burst open right then, and a security guard quickly grabbed Helen by the arms, yanking her towards the door.

Helen yelped, but she twisted and lifted her leg to forcefully kick the guard in the groin with her high-heel. The guard shouted in pain, but he didn’t let go, and instead another guard assisted him in apprehending her.

As they dragged her out the door, Phoenix shouted after her, “I can’t wait to see those mercenaries of yours again! I have a feeling we’ll be meeting soon…”

The guards tossed Helen out the back door, throwing her gracelessly into a patch of grass. She wasn’t hurt, though her dignity had definitely been wounded, and she would see to it that this would be rectified.

Moments later, Pauling was quickly tossed out as well, landing beside Helen in the grass with a shout. As the door slammed, Helen stood up, and she helped Pauling up as well. “Are you all right?”

Miss Pauling fixed her hair, taking a breath. “Yeah, I’m okay…sorry I couldn’t shoot him in time,”

“Don’t worry,” Helen assured her, pulling her towards the parking lot. “You will, later. For now, we should get out of here,”

It was then, though, that Pauling stopped Helen. “Wait—before we go, look what I managed to get,”

She opened her bag and pulled out something that was wrapped in a cluster of tissues. She parted the tissues slightly to show Helen, and right away, a golden glow began resonating from the item.

Helen stared in shock, before she looked back at Pauling. “How—how did you…?”

Pauling let out a breathless laugh. “They were so busy with you that they didn’t see me take it! This isn’t all of it, but—”

“That’s perfect, it’s perfect,” Helen quickly ushered Pauling into the car. “I am so proud of you, but we need to get out of here. His security cameras likely caught you taking that…”

It wasn’t until after Helen and Pauling had driven off that Sage checked his cameras and realized that Miss Pauling had, indeed, taken some Australium from the storage container while he had been distracted.

Filled with rage, he stormed down the stairs and into his employees’ office, shouting, “This is it, everyone! I will declare war on Mann Co. starting today!”

The employees just stared at him, bewildered, until one asked, “What do you mean ‘declare war’?”

“I don’t know how I’ll do it,” he went on. “But I will, they’ll know better than to mess with the likes of me, next time…”

Just then, his assistant Joann pulled him into the other room, whispering, “Mr. Sage, we’ve received some news about the Mann family,”

Once they were alone, Sage closed the door behind him, raising an eyebrow. “What? The Manns are all dead. What are you talking about?”

Joann just shook her head, and she held up a file. “According to some associates, the youngest daughter is still alive. Not only that, but we have reason to believe that she’s staying with the Mann Co. mercenaries or possibly with Helen,”

Sage went quiet for a long moment. “Really?” he asked, and he grinned, his eyes glittering with malice. “How interesting…”

[aurorawest]

Title: the words you say hold a thousand times more weight Author: @aurorawest​ Rating: M (implied sexual content) Relationships: Loki/Stephen Strange Major Archive Warnings: none Word Count: 2.1k Summary: A lovely October day in New Asgard takes a turn, and Loki and Stephen get caught in the rain.

Written for @fandom‘s Hauntober, day 3: tea

read it on AO3

In some ways, Norway was the perfect climate for Loki. It rarely got uncomfortably hot—in fact, the temperature was in that pleasant zone where he was happiest, not scorching, but not too cold, either. Cold was preferable to heat, of course, but he still didn’t enjoy freezing his arse off. It snowed in the winter, but only often enough to be pretty, not enough to be annoying or inconvenient. The long, dark months weren’t his favorite, but when the darkness got to him, he went to New York and asked Stephen if he wouldn’t mind reading whatever tome he was studying somewhere brighter and sunnier for a few hours.

There were few people in the galaxy that Loki could imagine would entertain this request, let alone seem to enjoy it. But Stephen always smiled and said something like, “Feeling a little low on vitamin D?” before choosing somewhere new, and usually in Earth’s southern hemisphere, for them to spend an afternoon.

But that wasn’t climate, and there were ways to bear the darkness. The nearly endless light in the summer, for one thing. Climate was different—if it was unbearable, he couldn’t live in a place. New York’s was unbearable. Loki had told Stephen he should move the Sanctum to New Asgard, obviously knowing full well this wasn’t how it worked.

But in lieu of that, Loki was trying to get Stephen to spend more time in New Asgard. The Sanctum was their default, because it was large and privacy was easy to come by. Privacy was…occasionally an issue in New Asgard. The home that Loki shared with Thor and his sister-in-law wasn’t particularly spacious and the walls weren’t what one might call ‘soundproof.’

But mainly it was the lack of space. If Loki and Stephen were sitting in the living room, Thor and Jane would almost certainly wander by at some point. They might even sit down. It was their house too, after all. And that wasn’t taking into account the fact that their fellow New Asgardians could and would stop by any time they pleased. Korg was the worst offender but Brunnhilde was hardly better. People had questions for Thor, they had questions for Loki, questions for Jane. Stephen had joked that coming to New Asgard meant having to make small talk with half the town.

It wasn’t much of a joke, honestly.

But Loki loved New Asgard and he wanted Stephen to love it, too. Half a year into their relationship, Loki was determined to spend, if not an equal amount of time in New Asgard, at least some of their time together there. And he’d talked up the weather to convince Stephen to come to Norway on this particular day. It was nice—bright and sunny, but not hot. It was the perfect day for a walk, which was exactly what they did, setting off along the cliffs, the fjord to one side, green pasture to the other. They had been so caught up in their conversation and each other that they’d walked farther than Loki had initially planned on, all the way to the next village down the coast, which was a good six miles.

It wasn’t until halfway back to New Asgard that dark storm clouds began massing on the horizon.

Loki wrinkled his nose. “So much for the nice day,” he sighed. “We may have to cut this walk short, unless you enjoy being rained on.” But Stephen looked at him with the kind of regrettable oh shit expression that was really more Loki’s style than Stephen’s. “What?” Loki asked.

Stephen glanced at the clouds, then back to Loki. “I left my sling ring in your bedroom.”

“You what?”

“I thought I should, you know, make time for us.” There was an Infinity Stone related joke there, but Loki remained silent. “I wanted to remove the temptation to check on stuff while we’re together. Things seem to keep…” Stephen hesitated. “Coming up.”

This was true. Last week it had been demons running a money laundering operation in the Bronx, which really had seemed like a Spider-Man issue. When Loki had said so, Stephen had reminded him that Spider-Man took care of Brooklyn, not the Bronx. Loki had rolled his eyes and said they were in the same city, what was the problem? And Stephen had stared at him, his jaw hinging and unhinging as if Loki had just said something unspeakable, before replying, “It’s like three transfers. You’d have to take the bus.”

The week before that, it had been what Stephen had described as, “Like a magical sewer leak—don’t ask; trust me.” He was the Sorcerer Supreme and the Guardian of the New York Sanctum and this meant he was always, as he said, on the clock. Loki didn’t complain. After all, he’d known full well what he was signing himself up for when the two of them had gotten involved. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t responsible for his own fair share of last-minute cancellations.

There was something sweet about the fact that Stephen had taken it upon himself to try to mitigate this issue. It was just unfortunate he’d chosen to do so at a time when they were going to have to walk several miles in the rain.

Loki ran his fingers through his hair, thinning his lips. “I suppose you’d better walk faster, then,” he said. They were already walking fast. ‘Walking faster’ at this point would be running. Loki could probably jog three miles. It was doubtful that Stephen could. Anyway—he glanced to his right—a misstep could result in both of them tumbling over the edge of the cliff and onto the rocks below. Again, this was something that Loki could probably take, though he’d likely break a number of bones. Stephen…not so much. The Cloak of Levitation hadn’t been invited on their walk.

As the first fat raindrops splattered down into the grass, still bright green in October, Stephen spun his hands and called up a slowly rotating shield of magic. He pulled his hands wider and the shield grew larger, stretching thinner and thinner, like gossamer, until Loki seemed to be staring up at the sky through a pane of golden glass no thicker than a strand of hair. Rain fell on it, running down the sides and dripping off the edges, which were safely distant from them by a foot or two.

Stephen looked smug and Loki drawled, his eyebrows flat, “My hero.”

Unfortunately, Stephen had failed to account for the wind. By the time he’d realized his mistake, they were drenched.

When they trudged back through the front door of the Odinson/Foster residence, they were completely sodden. All traces of the lovely day had been well and truly drowned by the cold, pouring rain, and Loki’s good mood was almost as soggy. The house was quiet and neither Thor nor Jane were anywhere to be seen. Small blessings. Not that Loki didn’t want to see his brother and sister-in-law, but at the minute, his chief desire was to snarl at someone, and it would almost certainly be the first person who dared to speak to him.

The expression on Stephen’s face suggested he was well aware of this, and he just smiled a little before twirling a finger. A blast of warm air hit Loki and instantly, his clothes were dry. Stiff, but dry. And of course, it did nothing for the fact that he was chilled to the bone.

A smile was still twitching at Stephen’s mouth. “You know, the one problem with magic is sometimes it makes things too easy.”

With a snort, Loki asked, “Oh?”

“Yeah. Anyone else would have had to strip out of those wet clothes.” One of Stephen’s eyebrows quirked up. “And seeing as we apparently have the house to ourselves, maybe we wouldn’t have bothered getting dressed again.”

The sourness of Loki’s mood became a bit less curdled. With a faint smile, he asked, “Do you want some tea?”

“I’d love some tea.”

And the warmth in Stephen’s voice improved Loki’s mood a little more. How could he stay unhappy when Stephen was looking at him like that? His smile growing firmer, Loki went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Either of them could have done this with magic, but Stephen had a point. Magic sometimes made things too easy, when there was comfort in rituals. Boiling the water, steeping the tea. Getting undressed and curling up naked under a blanket.

The tea didn’t take long, and once it was ready, Loki carried the two steaming mugs to the porch, where there was a futon that had seen better days and, handily, a blanket bunched on one side of it. Loki set the tea down on the table in front of the futon and looked at the glass that Thor and he had recently put up over the porch’s screened windows. Rain ran in rivulets down the panes, making it impossible to see out. Or in.

With a sly smile, Loki crooked a finger at Stephen, who approached. Tossing the blanket to him, Loki said, “Here—hold this.”

“Why?” Stephen asked half a second before every stitch of clothing he was wearing vanished. He gave Loki a nonplussed look and immediately draped the blanket over his shoulders, saying, “You know, I can do that trick, too.”

“No need,” Loki said, plopping down on the futon. When Stephen followed suit, sitting down next to him, the blanket draping him like a toga, Loki pulled the blanket over himself, vanished his own clothes, and leaned into Stephen’s side. One of Stephen’s arms went around him.

As Stephen turned his face to kiss the side of Loki’s head, he pointed out, “We didn’t actually have to take the clothes off. They were already dry.”

“Drink your tea, Stephen,” Loki said, smiling slightly. One of Stephen’s hands slid across his chest, possibly en route to the mug, possibly not.

It was, as it turned out, though not without a detour or two—first up to Loki’s face, which Stephen turned towards his own so he could kiss Loki slowly, then down Loki’s body again, over his chest and stomach until it came to rest between his legs. And Loki returned the favor, holding the blanket tight around them while they kissed and took advantage of their lack of clothes, Stephen’s face buried in the crook of Loki’s neck as he mumbled his name, Loki’s eyes closed as he held Stephen close and felt his whole body turn to gold, or possibly light.

Their tea was cool enough to drink by the time they were done, in any case. The rain was pounding harder against the glass, and Loki sprawled against Stephen, warming his fingers on his mug, since they were already getting cold again without the benefit of—ahem—something else to wrap them around.

He hadn’t filled Stephen’s mug as full, so once Stephen bolted his down, Loki offered his half-drunk tea. Stephen looked at him like he knew exactly what Loki was doing, but he took a sip with a wry smile. “Is October always this nice in New Asgard?” Stephen asked.

“It was nice four hours ago,” Loki pointed out. “I’d blame Thor, to be honest, but there’s no thunder.”

“Wait, you’re not going to blame Thor for something?” Stephen asked, smiling crookedly. “Are you feeling alright?”

Wrinkling his nose, Loki replied, “No. I’ve been going soft for a long time, and this is only the latest in a long line of unfortunate nods to a terminal case of sentimentality.”

With a chuckle, Stephen said, “Yeah. It’s a killer, that one.” His hand slipped over Loki’s heart, and Loki covered it with his own palm, holding it there.

The two of them remained that way, the blanket wrapped around both of them, listening to the rain patter on the windows and the roof, long after both their mugs were empty. Darkness began to fall outside, brought on earlier by the storm. Admittedly, this wasn’t the type of weather Loki normally enjoyed. It was gloomy, it was damp, it had a depressing, dreary element to it that he could do without. But if it meant—well, this, and what he was doing now, skin on skin, limbs languidly intertwined, no need to be anywhere but exactly where they were—then he could see a certain value in it.

Loki straightened up, but only so he could lean forward, an arm sliding to rest on Stephen’s shoulder, to kiss him softly. They probably needed more tea.

Fingers tangled in his hair as their kiss grew deeper.

The tea could wait.

[that-one-bi-wizard]

Some More RadioDust for Y’all

Third and final prompt from my list. Them getting together. Hope y’all enjoy it! If you want, you could check it out on my ao3 with this link here.

Alastor hated this feeling.

He hadn’t felt it since he was alive, and that was a long time ago. It was a burning sensation in his chest that made his head spin and his stomach flutter. What he hated more was what was causing these odd feelings.

That imprudently annoying pornstar, Angel Dust.

The arachnid just snuck up on him. He’d known him for only a few months, but something seemed different as the months went by. Charlie’s rehabilitation idea really seemed to be working if Angel Dust was any indication.

The taller demon’s swearing and drug use lessened and his dirty jokes were brought down a minimal. It was still worth noting that Angel Dust had his childish or inappropriate moments. Alastor found them endearing though.

And he hated it. He hated how much he liked the other demon. How much he wanted to protect him. How much he wanted to get to know him. How much he wanted to hold him in his arms. It was such a complicated feeling Alastor thought he left behind when he was alive.

Unfortunately, though, that wasn’t the case. He just hoped he wasn’t put into a situation that he had to confront these emotions.

“Alastor!” Charlie made her way over to him.

He snapped out of his thoughts. “Yes?”

“I was wondering, you know if you weren’t busy or anything if you could run some errands for me? I have somethings I need to get done around here, so I was hoping you’d be able to help me?” She gave him a polite smile.

Alastor nodded. “Why, of course! I am here to assist you, aren’t I?”

She smiled. “Great! Angel has the list. He’s out front waiting.”

Alastor’s eye twitched. Of course. Just his luck. He remained silent a moment.

“Al-”

“Yes! Yes! I’m on my way! We’ll be back soon. See you then.” He waved to her as she walked off with a perky smile.

The Radio Demon met with the other in front of the hotel. He was surprised to see Angel Dust’s attire. It wasn’t his usual clothing. For one, he was more covered up and dressed up than usual.

He wore a dark pink button-up that covered his chest, flattening it out a bit. His usual light pink shirt was still present, just unbuttoned to show his pink shirt. Plus, he wore pants…pants! That was certainly new. They were just normal khakis that were a somewhat odd contrast to his to the rest of his outfit. Even his face was a little different. He wore little to no makeup. No eyeliner or eyeshadow or even the light blush he always wore. It was just his natural face. (Which Alastor didn’t mind at all.)

Angel Dust looked up from the list and smiled. “Hey, Al!”

Alastor walked up to him. “Hello, Angel! You certainly look…” He thought of the right word to use. “…well-dressed.”

The other looked down at himself. “Oh, yeah. It’s a new look I’m tryin’ out. Ya like it?”

He would’ve said yes if it were any other demon that he just didn’t care for, but something about it just seemed off. Maybe he was just used to seeing Angel Dust in his usual, revealing outfit. “It’s certainly a change of appearance my feminine fellow.”

The other raised an eyebrow with an unsatisfied expression spreading over his face. It quickly vanished and was replaced with a grin. “Oh, well, it’s okay if ya don’t like it. That’s why I’m only tryin’ it.”

“Right.” There was a moment of awkward silence. “Well, let’s get going!”

“Yeah, good idea!”

They went about the day fairly normally. They picked up groceries, cleaning supplies, and other mundane tasks. Alastor was sure that being with Angel Dust would at least alleviate some of his boredom. After all, Angel Dust was pretty unpredictable, and that’s one of the many reasons that drew Alastor to him.

Unfortunately, his hopes were crushed immediately. The arachnid was just out of it today. He didn’t crack any jokes. He didn’t say anything inappropriate. Hell, he didn’t even try flirting with anyone. Alastor began wondering if the redemption was working too well. There were only a few moments he actually got to see the real Angel shine through.

Everywhere they went, people knew Angel Dust. They had either seen his adult content or slept with him. Angel would play it off as if he didn’t know what they were talking about. It wasn’t until he had enough of the pestering or dirty talk that he began choking out the demon.

Alastor couldn’t help but chuckle at these moments. The moments he got to see the real him rather than this semi-professional act he was trying to perform. It was a joy watching the other demon act like his usual unusual self.

After they finished and were heading back, Alastor just had to stop for a second. He didn’t know what prompted him to, but he had to. He grabbed the other by the sleeve. Angel looked back. He moved the groceries to his lower set of arms. “What’s up, Al?”

Alastor let go of his sleeve. “Why?”

Angel Dust had a confused look. He crossed his top set of arms. “Uh… why what?”

Alastor cleared his throat, his usual smile faltering for a moment. “Why this?” He dropped everything he was holding and gestured in Angel’s direction. “All this. You seem very off today. Why is that?”

A light blush covered Angel Dust’s cheeks. He cleared his own throat. “Why not? I can’t just randomly decide to start being reformed for a day?”

“Absolutely not!”

Angel Dust dropped what he was holding in his lower set of arms. “Well, why does it matter to you anyway? Huh? You’ve never cared about me anyway.”

Alastor felt that burning sensation freeze. “What would make you say such a thing like that?”

Angel scoffed. “Ha! You think I like this constricting shit?” He pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Haven’t ya noticed that I’ve been tryin’ to impress ya?”

The Radio Demon felt that sensation in his chest do a flip. “You’ve been…what?”

He sighed. “Impress ya. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been cuttin’ down on the dirty jokes and dressin’ nicer to get ya to notice me. My usual tactics were obviously not gonna work on ya. And they weren’t gonna work ‘cause I don’t like you that way.” He sighed. “Look, I like ya a lot. Not in the way I do with other people. I…I think I love ya, Alastor.” He immediately turned away from the Radio Demon.

Alastor couldn’t say anything.

Angel Dust sighed again after a moment. Defeat was present in his voice. “You know what? It’s fine ‘cause I know you ain’t impressed by me. You ain’t impressed by anything. Fuck, I don’t even know why this was a good idea. I’m a fucking idiot.” He unbuttoned his shirt and practically threw it off. He put his light pink one back on and buttoned it up.

Alastor opened his mouth to speak. His voice didn’t come out in its usual cheerful self. It was much softer. “But I am impressed.”

Angel Dust turned. “Huh?”

“I said you do impress me, Angel. But you didn’t need to change yourself for that.” He grabbed Angel Dust’s top set of hands. “If I wanted someone dull and proper, I would’ve looked somewhere else. As you know, I get bored easily. I think that’s what’s drawn me to you. The unpredictable and impulsive make for much more fun times.”

He took a step toward the arachnid so they were only inches apart. “I like you for you. And…I think I love you too, Angel.”

A darker shade of red covered Angel Dust’s face. “Really?”

“Yes…I could do with less sexual jokes though.”

Angel laughed. “I’ll keep a note of that.” He used his other two hands to grab Alastor’s face and bring him in for a kiss.

Under every other circumstance, Alastor would’ve killed anyone who did that to him, but right now wasn’t every other circumstance. He really did care for Angel Dust and, once again, enjoyed the real him shining through.

He could feel Angel Dust’s tongue trying to make its way into his mouth. He separated from the kiss. “Okay, that’s enough.”

The other chuckled. “Heh, fine. Too much?”

Alastor nodded. He smirked and picked up the spider in his arms carrying him bridal style. “Too much?”

Angel let his head rest on the Radio Demon’s shoulder. “Perfect.”

“Get a fucking room!” Some random demon called as he passed them.

“Why don’t you mind your own damn business!” Angel Dust called back as he used all four hands to flip him off.

Alastor chuckled. “That’s the Angel I love. Shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

-

“Come on Charlie,” Vaggie said, “I don’t think it’ll work.”

Charlie waved a dismissive hand. “Pssh, you come on. I know it worked. Now, I’m not the best at playing matchmaker, but-”

“But nothing. Alastor’s a cold, heartless, and powerful demon. You think he’d fall for someone like Angel Dust?”

The Princess of Hell thought for a second. “Well…isn't the whole point of what we’re trying to do here? To show that the demons down here do have a heart?”

Her girlfriend sighed. “But not Alastor! He’s the Radio Demon! He has no heart!”

“Well, you never know. Besides, Angel asked me to do him this favor, and he’s been doing well. So, the least I could do was help at least try with this. He dressed up and everything!”

Vaggie rubbed her temple. “Ugh, fine. When this doesn’t work though-”

As if on cue, Alastor walked in with Angel Dust in his arms. They were smiling and laughing.

Charlie held in a squeal. She nudged the other. “What did I tell you?” She said so the others couldn’t hear.

Vaggie’s eyes were wide. “Well, color me impressed.” She stared at the two for a while. “They forgot the groceries.”

Charlie nodded. “Shh, I know. I’ll get them later. Let’s not worry about that now. Just let them be happy.”

[queen-scribbles]

Non-verbal starters: off track -- get lost with them.

I was trying to think of something SWtOR or Wayhaven to fill this one, but Kei got there first and it was too good to pass up.

-----

Kei did not like being underground.

It wasn’t due to claustrophobia; tight spaces in general had never bothered her. And it wasn’t the knowledge in the back of her mind how many miles of rock were overhead. Far as she could tell, at least. Neither of those factors made panic swell, so she didn’t think it was that. It wasn’t fear or panic at all, really. Just a mild niggling discomfort. It had lingered the whole time they were traversing the Endless Paths, and it was back again as she tried to find her way through the tunnels that branched out beyond Stalwart’s mines.

Of course, the layers of spiderweb that coated the walls here were their own wonderful issue. Spiderwebs meant spiders and that was an unpleasant enough notion in more open spaces where she could see them coming. In here.... Just the thought made her shudder, and the torch she carried flickered with the motion, which in turn made shadows dance in the tunnels ahead of them.

“Which way?” Maneha asked, fiddling with her bracelets as her gaze darted between their options.

Kei pursed her lips a moment before nodding toward the right hand tunnel. “That one.” It had the fewest spider webs, which was all that mattered to her. The group of them trailed her down the chosen tunnel. Kana was the only one who didn’t look as wary as she felt, and that was probably only because the man’s curiosity overwhelmed common sense.

They walked in silence, at least half of the group with hands on weapons. A few turns in, the chosen route dead-ended in a small chamber so thickly coated in webs they snared at Kei’s boots when she walked and almost consumed the skeleton propped against one wall.

She shuddered and turned to look at her companions. “I think we might be lost,” she admitted. “I”m definitely ll turned around.

She kicked at the skeleton, and one arm flopped free of the ensnaring webs, bone vanishing into a finely crafted metal gauntlet.

Kana shuffled closer, ducking a little to avoid a tangle of web. “Even lost you manage to find treasure,” he chuckled as he crouched to examine the gauntlet, before pulling it and its mate from the skeletal hands.

“Do you really think that’s wise?” Aloth muttered, grip white-knuckle tight on his sceptre.

But nothing happened as Kana straightened with gauntlets in hand. He swept off the trailing cobwebs and wiped his hand on his brigandine. After a few moments passed with no new threats, they relaxed--mostly--and examined the gauntlets.

“What makes you think they’re treasure?” Maneha asked with a skeptical frown.  “Don’t look all that special to me.”

Kana grinned and nudged Kei with his elbow. “Because our Watcher stumbled across them in a side cavern off labyrinthine spider tunnels. Also, if you look from the right angle, you can catch the glimmer of an enchantment on one of them, at least.”

Kei rolled her eyes but smiled. “Come on. We should see if we can find a way out. Either back to the mines or somewhere else that might shed some light on what’s happening there.”

They turned around and made their way out. With no idea where to go, Kei picked a tunnel at random and headed down it. The wary silence returned as they traveled, broken only occasionally by Kana humming under his breath.

Unease started building in Kei’s gut the longer they went without sign of an exit. It should have at least been easy to retrace their steps out, but any sign of that trail had disappeared as well. She glared at the trio of tunnels in front of them with an unshakable certainty they’d been here before but no way to prove it or remember what she’d picked at the time.

“Hiravias, can I see your dagger for a second?” she asked, and he handed it over without complaint or comment; catching the tension in her voice, no doubt. She scratched a pair of Xs into the wall by the left-hand tunnel and handed back the dagger before heading down the marked path. A few more minutes of walking--Hiravias cutting the marks the next couple times they had to choose--and Kei felt a breeze. It was faint, stale and earthy, so probably not the way out. But it was a breeze.

Kana grinned at her, the torchlight giving it an eerie cast, and nodded toward the center choice in the split ahead of them. “It seems freedom, of a sort, is that way.”

“Hope so,” Kei said with a quiet scoffing laugh. The two of them swiped aside cobwebs to clear the way as they started down the tunnel.

With the flickering shadows cast by her torch, Kei almost didn’t catch the flash of movement above them. She lunged forward, shoving Kana back just as a chittering grey and white shape dropped from the overhead tangle of webs. She swept it aside with her shield and there was a sick, wet crunch as the creature was smashed between the shield and tunnel wall.

“Crystal eater,” she said grimly, wrinkling her nose at the ichor now coating her shield. “Even if that was a little one, you’re lucky it didn’t get you.”

“Very lucky, indeed,” Kana agreed, staring at the crushed remnants of spider and rubbing his arm. “Many thanks, Kei.”

“Don’t mention i-” Kei’s words cut off in a shriek as a heavy black shadow, glimmering with blue, settled on her shoulder.

There was a hiss unnervingly close to her ear, and then pinching jaws dug into the side of her face. Her thoughts froze even as she instinctively swung to bat away the new threat.

She missed, but large hands closed around the arachnid and yanked it off. The jaws ripped a pair of gashes in her cheek as they came free and she didn’t even care because at least it was off. Kana threw the moon spiderling into the wall and cut it in half before it could recover from being stunned.

Silence rang, broken only by heavy breathing until Maneha chuckled.

“And that’s why I’m all the way back here,” she said glibly.

There was a quiet snort and wry “Seconded” from Aloth before everyone let out short, relieved laughs.

“My thanks to you as well,” Kei said to Kana, ignoring the blood trickling down the side of her face.

“It’s only fair,” Kana grinned. He nudged the dead spiderling with his boot. “How badly did it get you?”

Kei shrugged. “Not badly enough to stop here. There isn’t enough light to do anything about it, either.” She cast a rueful looked at her dropped torch. At least it had gone out before hitting the web-coated floor. “Let’s just see what kind of exit that breeze heralds. Hopefully it will prove better lit and more spacious than this damn tunnel.”

“Hopefully, indeed,” Kana said with a chuckle.

She kicked the bisected corpse. “Abydon’s bellows, do I hate these things. At least it didn’t use any venom or anything,” she sighed. “Not so far as I can tell, anyway.”

“That is a blessing,” he concurred, casting a concerned look in her direction all the same.

With a final sigh--and careful a look as she could manage in the dim light of a fresh torch--Kei pressed on down the tunnel.

After only a few minutes more, it widened and the mouth of it opened into a vast glittering cavern lit in pale tones of blue-white. Very promising, in more than one respect. It wasn’t the mines, but it was better lit and more spacious than the tunnel by far, and it was something to investigate with regard to the oddness of the mine.Once she was no longer bleeding down the front of her armor, of course.

Maneha carried out a brisk but thorough examination, declared the deep scratches “hardly worth the bandages”, but then smeared them with some sort of salve and bandaged them anyway--an awkward ordeal in and of itself. Kei was relieved when it was done and they could keep going.

And the pair of dominated miners, along with what she was fairly sure was a vithrak, that attacked them barely a minute later lent credence to a connection with Stalwart’s troubles.

Kei spared a glance back at the tunnel as she and her companions crept further into the crystal-lit cavern. They still needed a way back once they were done here, but one problem at a time. She was hardly eager to skulk through spider tunnels again, anyway.

They could cross that bridge when they came to it.

[blookmallow]

im starting to realize there’s a bunch of connections going on between tma episodes.. i dont know what it Means yet and dont tell me!!!!! ill get there!! but. hmmm. im going through the transcripts after i listen to them to make sure i didnt miss things/checking the details and i just. Keep Finding More Shit, it’s all connected, i feel like there’s something huge going on behind all these and i Do Not Know what it is yet 

this is. very long and disjointed i went through all the transcripts for every episode ive listened to so far and kept noticing more things 

like Don’t Tell Me if im right or wrong ill find out im just gathering thoughts. setting up my little conspiracy board. red strings everywhere

- firstly theres an obvious running thread going about the cursed jurgen leitner books, gerard keay, the. worms. and jane prentiss 

- carlos vittery in Arachnophobia mentions offhand that his complex had an infestation of “small, silvery worms” which passed right over my head the first time but looking at it again thATS THE FUCKIGN WORMS!!!! and martin found. Probably Jane in the basement of that same complex. so. well, (that also means like Who Knows how many people in that building might have gotten infected) (i also wonder whether the spiders might actually be Good, if the worms are hideous parasites maybe the spiders are showing up to eat them/get rid of them, martin says he likes spiders, the spiders almost definitely killed vittery but he was violently trying to wipe them out so maybe it was a greater good kind of thing) (or they’re just spiders and dont have that level of comprehension and like the nasty silver worms. either way) 

- there’s also a lot of Foretelling Of Death but i dont want to go through and list all of those rn

- in Anglerfish, there was some kind of. shadowy hand thing beckoning people into the darkness. Amy Patel in Across The Street describes seeing a similar shadowy hand thing reaching into Graham’s apartment before his. replacement. both of these are described as “folding” in on themselves/moving in a really unnatural way. smoking was also mentioned in both but i havent really been following that as a symbol very closely. possible link with Fire? i dont know

- Repetition. Graham was obsessively filling hundreds of notebooks with the words “Keep Watching,” mary keay’s skin was completely covered in unreadable script tattoos, the paper found by the garbage men was the Lord’s prayer written in latin over and over again, ivo lensik’s father became completely obsessed with fractals and couldn’t stop drawing them. the unnamed burned man in First Aid repeats an unclear phrase over and over again. gerard keay is also covered in tattoos of eyes in First Aid, which was not mentioned before (though probably wouldn’t have been visible before) 

- Graham was convinced he was being watched/followed by Something, harriet was concerned about being followed after she was attacked by prentiss (which. matches with martin’s experience too, though he was much more fortunate), vittery was followed by The Spider, lensik’s father also believed Something was coming for him (and “all the bones are in his hands” sounds very. leitner), and there was. whatever approaching darkness was coming after robert montauk, as well 

- Graham has a weirdly hypnotic table, the first Leitner book found by dominic swain had oddly vertigo-inducing woodcuttings, gerard keay’s eye painting is similarly hypnotic, lensik finds a box in the old tree with the same hypnotic carvings on it 

- not sure if the Spider Apple has any relation to the Arachnophobia episode, but, there’s that, also 

- swain’s book had an image of the sky, which he described felt like you would “fall into it” if you looked at it for too long, and robert kelly sort of “fell into the sky” in Freefall. laura popham describes a sense of being swallowed up by the earth in Lost Johns’ Cave, as well 

- same theme of becoming “lost” in Lost Johns’ Cave and in Alone, similar concepts of being consumed by the earth 

- i dont think its necessarily related to anything else as far as i know but just wanted to mention also i didn’t process the... extra audio recording in Lost Johns’ Cave correctly, i thought she was saying “help me, help me, please help me” which was unnerving, but didn’t really seem all that critical to add, until looking at the transcripts i realized it was “take her, not me” which was a HUGE punch to the gut when i discovered it lmao. dont ask how i managed to mishear that badly but i am very very bad at auditory processing which is why im reading all these scripts to make sure i didnt process them wrong

- Graham mentions he’s gay, and the man who had the dream about gertrude mentions having broken up with his boyfriend, Graham. jon doesn’t comment on this and it’s not necessarily the same graham, and im not sure what the significance is if it is, but it seems like an odd coincidence if it isn’t. “antonio” doesn’t go into detail about why they broke up, but mentions they had been living together 

- the name Joshua Gillespie stands out to me for some reason, like I’ve heard “gillespie” somewhere before, but I haven’t noticed it coming up again in any of the transcripts unless I just missed it. could just be that my brain decided to Remember that name for no reason though. he’s the guy with the coffin 

- jon mentions this, but Breekon and Hope deliveries were responsible both for the weird coffin and the yellow stole from the incident with father burroughs 

- there’s a major ongoing theme of Fire and Burning, both just in general, and a more specific Fire With No Apparent Source thing continuously happening. the prayer paper in the trash had been burned, timothy hodge burned his apartment after the Worms Incident (and martin mentions noticing one of the worms looked slightly burnt - maybe it survived the fire and returned to jane?), sgt. berry was “distinctively marked” by an incident with a flamethrower, the vampires are supposedly very very vulnerable to fire, raymond fielding’s house burned down and his. ghost? disappears with a burning smell and a burnt spot on the floor, lensik experiences an intense, unbearable heat with no clear cause soon after the encounter with raymond, which father burroughs also experiences in his account. the mysterious coffin in Do Not Open had an unnatural heat to it. gerard keay burns the leitner book and picks up the still-smoldering ashes but isn’t concerned with the heat, and then appears again as one of the burned men in First Aid, having apparently experienced second-degree burns on every inch of his skin, but had completely undamaged clothes. the nurse describes feeling a burning sensation when the chanting starts, but dismisses it as a nervous reaction, then experiences the. boiling drink bottles and the burning hot door handles. she says she could feel a burning heat from gerard’s hand. the burned man’s body immediately self-cremates when gerard kills him. lee rentoul also gives specifically a lighter to angela for her Piecemeal curse, though that might be coincidental. he does burn the first box after he discovers it, though

- the garbage man describes the last Weird Trash as “tied off with a dark green ribbon, arranged in a bow like an old-fashioned Christmas present” - which contained a copper heart, possibly symbolizing alan’s real heart, with the rest of his body never being found. this matches both with robert montauk’s killings and the cursed boxes from angela’s curse- “brown paper and string, like an old-fashioned Christmas present.” there was also the weird thing with raymond’s hand, but im not sure that’s related 

the vampires’ victims bodies also seemed to disappear, not sure that’s related either 

- jon confirms that the pendant julia describes (the one belonging to her mother and also her father’s last victim) is a symbol of the People’s Church of the Divine Host cult. wondering if this is related to what father burroughs experienced. gerard keay is searching for a lost pendant in First Aid, but its design is unclear, and he describes it as brass. unsure if related. the fact that gerard’s tattoos/etc were of eyes, and the other pendant is of a closed eye, while one is made of brass and the other of silver seems like there might be some connection though even if it isn’t the same one. there didn’t seem to be any burning involved with the montauk case, anyway 

then there’s. this entire thing im just gonna paste it here, from sebastian adekoya in the Boneturner’s Tale: 

“Books are amazing, aren’t they? I mean, when you think about what they really are. People don’t give the actuality of language the weight it deserves, I feel. Words are a way of taking your thoughts, the very make-up of yourself, and giving them to another. Putting your thoughts in the mind of someone else. They are not a perfect method, of course, as there’s plenty of scope for mutation and corruption between your mind and that of the listener, but that doesn’t change the essence of what language is.

Spoken aloud, though, the thought dies quickly if not picked up. Simple vibrations that vanish almost as soon as they are created, though if they find a host, then they can lodge there, proliferate, and maybe spread further. Still, it is not a reliable method in terms of a thought’s endurance, as humans are fragile creatures, and rarely last a century.” 

this definitely seems relevant to jurgen leitner (and this is. one of the episodes about a leitner book, so) it definitely seems likely that he’s spreading some kind of.... Belief or Self or Power or Something through his books, possibly even his own consciousness is within them somehow, or at least the consciousness of Something or Someone. the man with all the bones in his hands. taking bones and warping them. bones appearing in the pages but Wrong. might be related to the bag of teeth, too, hundreds of All The Same Tooth

definitely something to the... immortalization of thoughts/memories/Consciousness through written word, especially when we consider the words literally tattooed into mary keay’s skin/the book possibly bound in her skin. i cant put a coherent thought together on this but its definitely... important, i think 

sebastian also for some reason specifically mentions he was holding a copy of Stephen King’s Misery in the confrontation with Jared’s mother, which is a story about an author being forced to write something against his will/words that aren’t really his own, to appease someone else, which. seems like it might be relevant somehow too, maybe. the fact that it was named specifically when it wasn’t apparently relevant to the story seems interesting