#i wish they got to exist at the same time. TWO lady mechanics.....

[girlwiththegreenhat]

kitt has two moms and that's very cool of him

[yanderedbdimagines]

How about a survivor who somehow knows of the Archives existence and took the chance to leave the campfire in search for it in hopes of escaping the Entity’s realm one way or another, only to accidentally stumble into the Hillbilly’s territory who’s absolutely obsessed with them? A scenario would be nice! Thank you!

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You have no idea how much I like this! :D Personally, I have the feeling that the Archives might be the closest thing to a get-away from the horrors in the Entity’s realm any person stuck there could wish for. Especially since the Observer, the one operating the Archives, knows more about the realm than any of the killers and the survivors ever could. Of course, if I read the lore right, the Observer doesn’t know how to leave the realm himself, but it might be the safest place in the Fog for the survivor to be in, I bet.

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The Hillbilly

The disfigured man hears whispers in the wind, directing him to the east side of the unkept farm- his farm. He listens intently and grips his chainsaw and hammer even more tightly in his rough hands. A warning from the Entity- warning him that there is an intruder near his land. But which one could it be? One of the young adults dressed with a grinning mask? The tall man in blue overalls and a white face that acts as a mask? A strange creature with a flower-shaped mouth lined with razor-sharp teeth that is actually its face? 

He shivers restlessly, white-hot fury already bubbling up in his lanky body and burning his veins in the process. He never really had a good relationship with any of the killers, not even the one he got to know as Bubba Sawyer, the Cannibal. In fact, the only moment the two of them willingly interact with one another is when they exchange the Hillbilly’s slaughtered pigs for Bubba’s mechanical parts and maintenance products for chainsaws and agricultural vehicles. Nothing more, nothing less. If it weren’t for that, Max might have attacked that stupid man a long time ago; jealousy, bloodlust and self-preservation of his own skin the main motives. Not that his face is worthy enough to be worn, apparently.

And before you wonder, he saw and still sees flashes of the Cannibal’s past any time the two interact. Maybe that's a way for the Entity to keep the Hillbilly's killer's motives at a high level and keeping him on his toes as result. A strange way to keep the killers isolated from each other and motivated to kill each other all at the same time- sharing corruption and twisted emotions. The dark being basically dangles it in front of the heads of some who need the discipline that friendship is not, and never will be, an option given all their natures and upbringings. And that the anger and frustration that almost always ensues after such interactions, and is often fueled by misunderstandings, can only be extinguished during trials. Well, most of the time, because a killer killing another killer does happen occasionally, but not as often as it would have if the Entity had not interfered when necessary.

He approaches the edge of the outer boundary of Coldwind farm and sees from afar that a shadow is moving rapidly in the dark thicket. A bush rustles and whips aside before the swaying of tall corn stalks implies that the unknown killer thought it a good idea to position itself in the fields. Precisely the fields that are a part of his territory....

His breathing becomes shallow and filled with resentment as he himself walks straight into the dark yellow vegetation, his beady eyes peering for a head to violently smash his bulky hammer against and show them that this kind of provocation might as well be their death sentence.

He is already brandishing the hammer high above his head as he approaches the familiar crunch of footfalls on dry ground, but slows down when he notices that the intruder seems a lot smaller than he expected; just a tad bit taller than that skinny lady with the big hand.

He swings anyway when a hooded head pops fully into view, only to be paralyzed to the bone when an all too familiar pitch of the voice makes his ears twitch as the figure dodges the hammer at the last possible moment, hitting nothing but greenery instead. 

You change your course and run as fast as you possibly can, your backpack rippling during the movement. Max stares after you in a mesmerized daze.

It’s you…

Why are you here?

In the few years he has served the Entity thus far, he has rarely encountered a survivor wandering so far from the safety of a campfire as the one after the latest mass shift. The last time he saw a survivor within his area in such a manner was many months ago.

No. He doesn’t want to think about that- about him…

He is not delusional. He understands that you are not here for him. For you, a very unfavorable situation that came through a bout of bad luck. But for him, exactly the opposite is the case. Although, he is still very curious about where you were headed to. Maybe that backpack of yours can give him more insight into that? after all, he doubts you'll tell him voluntarily. As he learned from TV, some people will do almost anything to hide a secret from a person they dislike, no matter how insignificant it is.

He shakes his head, the anger in his blood gradually replaced by an emotion much lighter and more heavenly as he drops his tools with a thud. He won’t need them right now… Not with you…

He straightens his back, his spine popping loudly in the process before quickly limping after you at a speed even faster than before.  

You don’t stand a chance.

You scream as something heavy quickly tackles you to the ground, yanking your backpack off you and throwing it somewhere to the side before pinning you belly-side down to the ground. You try to turn around, struggling in the process, and try to swipe an arm back whenever you see an opening. In response, he simply grabs your wrists before nailing them down as well. 

Whilst you are shortening your life span through unfiltered inner panic alone, as ecstatic the Hillbilly is with finally having you within his grasp in a way he could have never dreamed of before.

Sure, it's clear that there's still a lot of work to be done to get you to trust him, but there's now hope and a solid goal for him to work on. One that is now approachable and seemingly possible to achieve.

He just hopes that you will also open yourself up to the idea of spending the rest of your life close by his side.

The very first step would be to try and get you to talk about why you left the survivor's camp in the first place. 

[wonlouvre]

hello! i see your requests are open again 😌 can i request jeonghan x reader, enemies to lovers kinda thing maybe where they have the same friends but jeonghan & reader always clash etc etc fluff at the end idk

i know you’ll come up with something amazing as always, do what you want with it 😘🥰💗

balance | y. jh. 

pairing: jeonghan x reader genre: enemies to lovers (kind of), fluff warnings: heights, ski mountain mechanical malfunctions (you know, dangling in the air kind of thing)  word count: 1.5k (i got carried away, im sorry)

💌: thank you so much for requesting!!! this was honestly fun to write although there was little to none banter, i’m so sorry :’( thank you for trusting me! i hope you like it <3 i will try to post at least two drabbles/requests per week :)

To you, Yoon Jeonghan was the type of person that looked like he would trample all over your principles in life. It’s a little dramatic of you but he can’t blame you for thinking so. He’s cocky, annoying and full of shit. The two of you stepped off on the wrong foot when he thought it was funny to pour sparkling water on your instant noodles as a prank during one of the traditional ski trips your group of friends always hold.

Soonyoung introduced him on what was supposed to be the best trip of your life only to get ruined when he made fun of you. Although technically speaking, your cup wasn’t the only victim of his shenanigan because the rest of your friends complained and threw it at the perpetrator before they could even finish eating. But you were hungry and stubborn, so you didn’t let it go. 

Ever since then, despite not confronting him, Jeonghan’s energy and wholebeing never clicked with yours. You barely speak a word to him and you rarely hang out with him, unlike with every single one of your friends. He hasn’t noticed and even if he did, you’re sure he could care less. Which is fine by you. The instant noodle prank is history and now that this year’s ski trip will be your third with him, you have just gotten used to ignoring his existence. 

“Jeonghan’s staring at you,” Seungcheol says, startling you. 

Your eyes throw daggers at him, not because he startled you, but because of what he said. 

The tall man nudges your shoulder with his. “I’m not lying. Give him a glance and then you’ll see.”

To set the record straight, you don’t have a grudge on Jeonghan for who he is. It’s more of what he does that gives a bad impression on you. Aside from the noodle incident, you noticed how much he takes pride in teasing and playing with the gullible younger ones and you hate him for that. It’s a good laugh every once in a while but it can hurt feelings at times and you don’t want that. He also likes to disagree and debate with everyone (you’re just glad you haven’t been a victim yet). When everyone else says yes, he’ll boldly say no. That’s how moronic he is to be friends with. 

Of course you acknowledge his good deeds. Whether you like to admit it or not, Jeonghan is a great friend. He is a beacon of strength among you knowing that he’s one of the oldest in the group. He knows where and when to have fun. He knows when to be there for anyone who needs him. He’s supportive. He’s loving. He’s more than okay. 

You’re just turning a blind eye because you’re still petty. 

It has come to your attention that apparently, Jeonghan has been harboring a crush on you. It’s a stupid rumor and you choose to ignore it because why. Why would he have a crush on you? You try confirming if it’s true by looking at him and observing his actions whenever he’s not paying attention. But to no avail, nothing special stood out.

In fact, it seems like all the staring and observation made you develop a crush on him. Now that’s even more annoying. 

You roll your eyes at Seungcheol’s nonsense and walk away from him to go to Jeongyeon who’s currently checking in everyone to the hotel. You might as well help her register everyone to all the activities you will be participating in. 

“Collect their IDs,” she orders without looking up from the form she’s writing on. “And tell them to fall in line so they can sign the consent form.”

“Told you we should have filled out the online form before getting here,” your complaint doesn’t go unheard by your friend who only glares at you, scaring you to immediately obey her instructions.

“IDs please,” you ask with your hand out and your friends happily complied as they chatted through the waiting time. You walk around to make sure you have everyone’s and as you double check, one last ID was missing. 

“You didn’t forget about me, did you?”

The devil himself, Yoon Jeonghan.

You take a deep deep breath before turning around and face the handsome face you’ve been sick of. Wait, did you just call him handsome?! 

Jeonghan flashes his signature smirk while pulling his wallet out from his pocket, picking one of the many cards inside it to hand to you. His gloveless fingers grazes yours and it concerns you why it made your heart skip a beat. You avoid his gaze and everything else about him and run back to Jeongyeon who’s the one asking for these in the first place. 

You heard his low chuckle and you wish you could wipe off his annoying grin with your fist. 

Moving on from what happened in the early afternoon, the rest of the day was pleasant enough for you and your friends to continue. Everyone had lunch at the local restaurant first before doing the group activities. It’s a good thing none of you are afraid of heights (except for Dokyeom, but he manages). Soonyoung leading everyone to hike the safe side of the snow covered mountain wasn’t a problem for him. 

After the quick mountain hike, you all scattered to have fun and decided to meet up for dinner in the evening. You, Jeongyeon, Dokyeom and much to your dismay, Jeonghan all went up to snowboard. 

The lift was supposed to carry the four of you up to the starting point before your adrenaline descend, but Dokyeom suddenly felt a wave of fear of heights and needed to calm down for a few minutes. He tells you to go on ahead and you did. You just didn’t expect Jeonghan to be accompanying you instead of Jeongyeon. 

You hide your disappointment and bewilderment as you make yourself comfortable. It’s awkward but it doesn’t matter. You’re just going to keep quiet and avoid looking Jeonghan’s way. This ride will probably not be a good ten minutes, right?

Jeonghan holds onto his snowboard while you place yours on the floor. A barrier of some sort to distance yourself from him. Your eyes are glued to your feet, watching them move from side to side. You also distract yourself from admiring the view outside the window, but it’s hard when you can feel his eyes burning holes on the back of your head. 

“Y/N.”

You hate it. You hate it. You hate it. 

Why does your name sound so melodic coming from his mouth?

You turn your head and raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. 

But the lift doesn’t let him because it suddenly stops mid-air, echoes of metals clanking and brakes screeching following suit. The abrupt stop causes the lift to shake a little, making you hold onto the metal bars out of fear. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, there has been a mechanical malfunction of the lifts and our engineers are repairing it now at this moment. We apologize for the inconvenience and fear that this has caused. We request everyone to remain calm and seated…”

The announcement falls deaf to your ears because all you hear is ringing. You’re not afraid of heights at all. But you have never experienced an incident like this before. You’ve heard and read about it and not all of them ended well. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan’s voice snaps you out of your dilemma. 

You blink away your tears and clutch your chest to calm your heart that’s beating faster and faster. 

“Y/N?” Jeonghan calls for you again, but this time he’s reaching his hand out. “You’ll be fine. Here, take my hand.”

Jeonghan probably noticed the panic in your eyes. So, after throwing away your doubts outside the window, you carefully move a little closer to him but not beside him as you don’t want to ruin the balance of the lift. You unclench your fist and finally take hold of his waiting hand. 

Jeonghan’s warm palm and genuine smile calms you down. Your heartbeat slows down and your breathing goes back to normal. Your eyebrows furrow in both fear and embarrassment. You question the universe how and why did this have to happen. 

“Hey, don’t cry.”

“I’m not!” 

Jeonghan giggles at your outburst and you don’t know if that’s music to your ears or if it just makes you want to punch his handsome face more. 

“I like you Y/N,” he suddenly confesses and you grimace. 

“I like you too,” you confess back, tightly gripping his hand. “But now is not the time, Yoon Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan bites back a smile that says he’s in love and just gently caresses your hand. It’s unbelievable how the opportunity arose itself right at this moment, but it was now or never for him. He’d explain how much he likes you in detail later. For now, he’s okay with this. 

“But, later though?”

“Yes, now shut up before I throw you out first.”

[reidsnose]

completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly (spencer reid x reader)

overview: spencer helps his best friend talk through her emotions

genre: angst? and fluff

warnings: mentions of cheating, bad coping mechanisms, idrk what else reader being upset for a little bit

a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app FOREVER but idk how i feel ab this one im usually strictly fluff so yall lmk :)

masterlist

you hated talking about your feelings. you knew it was unhealthy to keep it bottled and and 'deal with it on your own' but that didn't stop you from doing exactly that.

the worst part about your feelings right now was that you isolate to cope with them. you didn't want to interact with anyone at all because more likely than not you would lash out at them on accident. it just slips out sometimes.

when you trudged into the bullpen with your head down and your hands fidgeting with your zipper, you didn't even notice all eyes on you. you werent your usual happy self. you weren't being loud, you weren't cracking jokes. you were just begrudgingly existing amongst your favorite people and they knew there was something wrong.

"good morning gorgeous, its a paperwork day! that means no traveling!" garcia informed you brightly, trying to lighten my mood.

"oh. cool. thanks." you answered back, flashing her as much of a smile as you could muster after realizing the harshness of your words.

she shot morgan a look, to which he raised an eyebrow.

"hey pretty lady," he began as he walked over to you, "whats going on? did you drink some grumpy juice for breakfast?"

"no. im fine." you replied flatly, making your way to your desk.

"what in the world.." he whispered to garcia, not knowing you could still hear.

or maybe he did know. maybe he was trying to get on your nerves. no. this is the irritability talking. morgan was just being a good friend.

you groaned at your computer, retyping the same password for the 4th time.

this time Prentiss shot you a look.

"is everything ok?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"yeah my computer is being stupid." you rolled your eyes as it finally let you in.

"oh i know the feeling. if you need any help-"

"I'm alright. thanks." you cut her off, eyes glued to the file you were working on.

JJ, who had witnessed the whole interaction unfold, stood with her mouth agape.

"spence, your bestie needs you!" JJ tapped his shoulder and motioned to you.

he watched your jaw rhythmically clench and unclench. your tell. thats what you always did when you were irritated or angry.

"hey y/n," he hummed, sitting lightly on the corner of your desk, crinkling some of your paper work.

"Reid! my files!" you cried, swatting his thigh. he got up and murmured an apology.

"are you ok?" he asked simply, crouching down to meet your height as you sat in your chair.

"why does everyone keep asking me that!"

you knew why. you were being a bitch.

"you just called me Reid." he stated.

"its your name." you replied, not meeting his gaze.

"yeah but you always-" he began.

"I'm not in the mood right now."

he sighed, "if you need someone to talk to-"

"i don't need anyone to talk to because theres nothing to talk about!" you interrupted, causing him to furrow his eyebrows at the tone of my voice.

'i shouldn't be mean to him. why am i acting like this?' you thought to yourself

"ok, ill be over there if you need me," he threw his hands up in surrender.

you mumbled an ok and went back to distracting yourself with work. you were so invested in filing these cases you completely lost track of time and before you knew it, it was just you, Hotch, and Spencer left in the office. you vaguely remembered waving goodbye to your other coworkers but you didn't remember it being nearly 6pm.

"guys go home, you've done a lot today," Hotch said as he crossed the bullpen, making his way towards the glass doors.

"yeah i will i'm almost done," you answered, not looking up from my screen.

"good night, Hotch," Spencer called from the break room.

you stared at your screen, eyes burning. you did enough. you cant escape confronting your feelings much longer. you sighed as you began packing up.

as if on cue, Spencer walked out of the break room with two cups in his hands, steam rising from the both of them. your mood softened just a bit.

"here," he handed you your drink which he had filled with your favorite tea and sweetened just the way you like it.

"you didnt have to." you replied, setting down the warm cup as you finished packing up. he mirrored your movements, resting his satchel across his torso before picking his drink back up.

"i know." he answered simply, a gentle smiling resting on his lips before he took a sip of his own tea.

"im sorry for snapping at you earlier." you apologized, finally meeting his gaze. his eyes were soft and sweet and you felt a pang of guilt in your heart as they looked into your own.

"its ok. do you want to tell me why?" he asked, walking to the elevator with you.

"no. yes? i dont know. its stupid." you replied, looking down at the floor as you recounted your reason for my anger today.

"its not stupid." he spoke softly.

you scoffed lightly, "you dont even know what it is."

"so tell me."

"but its dumb!"

"y/n." he warned.

"my ex boyfriend, Ashton, is getting married to the girl he cheated on me with." you sighed, walking through the parking lot with Spencer.

"ah so Trashton put my favorite ray of sunshine in a bad mood." he joked, breath swirling around the cool air as he spoke

you let out a weary chuckle, "its not like i miss him or anything, i just wish i had someone! not him- i just- i want- ugh i don't know how to word this!" you grew frustrated, furrowing your eyebrows and balling your hands into fists.

you knew exactly how to word it.

you wanted Spencer.

"its ok, take all the time you need." he whispered, leaning on the hood of your car. you joined him, resting as you took a sip of your tea.

"why am i not good enough to be loved." you stated the question rather than asking it, eyes filling with tears.

"you are good enough and i promise you that you are loved more than you know." he affirmed gently, turning to face you.

"do you know why we broke up?" you asked, knowing if you acknowledged his previous comment you wouldn't be able to continue without sobbing.

"because he cheated on you." he answered confidently.

"no." you shook your head, fighting back tears.

"what? he didn't cheat on you?"

"he did. and i was going to forgive him for that."

Spencer started getting riled up, "what! why? you're worth more than that scumbag! you shouldn't ha-"

"Spencer just let me finish!" you cut him off. he went silent, chest rising and falling more rhythmically than it had seconds earlier. "he wanted me to chose. him or you."

"him or me?" he furrowed his eyebrows, voice much quieter now.

"mhm." you hummed not meeting his gaze, your cheeks redder than you'd like to admit.

"i don't understand." he breathed.

"he thought i was cheating on him with you. he had no proof and it w-"

"oh this is all my fault. y/n i'm so sorry!"

"no! spence its not your fault!" you grabbed his arm to reassure him.

"it is! your boyfriend broke up with you because of me! and now you're sad and lonely and its all my fault!" he cried, looking worriedly into your eyes.

"first of all, i broke it off with him, he just gave the ultimatum. secondly, you did me a favor."

"how?"

"by showing me who i was really dating. a cheating, insecure scumbag who was quick to replace me when i left."

"i guess thats true."

"and id pick you over him any day." you admitted, looking back down at the ground. he nudged your shoulder playfully and you cracked a sad smile

"im sorry i made you sad and lonely."

"you didnt. id be sad and lonely anyway."

"why? you would still have a boyfriend if it wasn't for me."

"i don't want a boyfriend if it isn't you."

shit. shit.

the words toppled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"what?" he asked, wide eyes and looking a little shocked. spencer was sure in that very moment that if he heard you correctly hed simply explode.

"i- no this was a bad idea. i just ruined everything didnt i!" you were speaking more to yourself, exasperated at your own stupidity.

"no," you felt him place a finger to your chin and lift your gaze to meet his, "im glad you said it because now i can admit it."

"admit what?"

"that im completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly in love with you."

"spencer dont play with my heart like this. are you being serious?"

"yes. i am." he said with a strange confidence than you had never heard before. hesitant but sure.

"oh thats so lucky because i am completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly in love with you too." you admitted, feeling about 100 pounds lighter, like you could fly. he pulled you into a bone crushing hug which you eagerly accepted. "i should talk about my feelings more often."

he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, "yes you should."

world littlest taglist:

@mac99martin

[cerastes]

May I request a review of general coolness and awesome of the horses we saw during the event?

Right, Maria Nearl event!

I liked the event quite a lot, though I do feel like it dropped the ball at the end. That aside, I had a lot of fun the entire time!

First of all, the cast was wonderful. Maria is explicitly not a powerful or skilled fighter to any degree that matters in the frame of strength the story takes place in, being definitely more skilled than the average person and even the average nameless knight, but being woefully outclassed by practically anyone that has a name in the Major. A humble mechanic with a heart drenched in justice, Maria doesn’t even like to fight, and adheres to a knightly ideal and a duty she must fulfill instead to justify her participation in these commercialized bloodsports, which carries the narrative. She is joined by a lovable cast of rambunctious family and family friends, who serve as her mentors and support: Her aunt, who is more akin to an older sister-slash-maternal figure, Zofia, who we are immediately shown is so close to Maria that the moment Maria made a big decision (the participation in the Major) without confirming with Zofia first, she immediately chastised her, wondering why she did not consult with her beforehand. Aunt Zofia is her aunt only due to technicality, as she’s a lady-in-waiting (or, in other words, belongs to a branch family of the Nearl clan, and is actually only 5 years older than Maria) and, more importantly, a decorated, retired competition knight who earned enough in her career that she can live comfortably for the rest of her life, ironically far outstripping the main Nearl house in terms of wealth. There’s also Kowal, an old Ursus mechanic, engineer and smith who mentors Maria in the ways of the wrench, willing to pass his workshop to Maria with her as his successor any day of the week, who himself also used to be a squire to V, an old, retired knight of old who served as Grandpa Nearl’s peerless sharpshooter and who trained Zofia back in the day. Finally, we have Old Marcin, owner of the cast’s favorite hangout, a little bar where he and Maria mediate the infinite squabbles, fights, and arguments that Kowal, V, and occasionally Zofia spark between one another. The event does a great work of introducing the dynamic between these five characters as something extremely domestic and comfortable: You can tell these five are tight and that they have spent a long time together. It’s just another day in their low profile lives when, suddenly, Maria dons Margaret’s old armor and decides to take arms for the main Nearl house, which is currently on the brink of ruin and about to lose its knighthood and nobility titles.

And this decision, and everything this decision means, informs everything that happens afterwards: Zofia tells Maria that if she’s worried about being left homeless, then that’s just foolishness, since Zofia is absolutely 100% ok with Maria moving in with her. She’s loaded. They can live comfortably for the rest of their lives without a concern. Kowal, likewise, insists that Maria is a good enough mechanic that she can earn a living by doing that. But, see, it’s not about a livelihood for Maria, it’s about preserving that for which Margaret and Grandpa Nearl fought and stood for, it’s never about the wealth, it’s about the name, the principle, not the glory, the weight of ideals that blood was shed to nourish and maintain. Maria is not even sure if she’s doing the right thing, but she’s got to do something. Why? Look no further than Uncle Mlynar. A bitter man, a corporate slave, spitting bile at her niece and apologies at his bosses. And the fact that it is very clear that this guy can kick some serious ass -- we never see him without his trusty blade hanging on his hip and, at the end, tells Margaret to square the hell up -- makes it all the sadder: In any other context, Mlynar might be a knight’s knight, hell, Margaret herself says she respects him still, but the Mlynar we see now is an unimportant cog in the capitalist system, just another grunt apologizing to his phone every time his lips part, who gets in hot water just by making small talk because, whoops, your workload accumulated again, better get chop chopping. Mlynar is a very telling character, because he represents everything Maria resents about the current state of the Nearl family: Disgraced, meaningless, existing as an extension of other bigger conglomerates. He is what she wishes to never become, and what the Nearl house cannot be any longer, if she has any saying on the matter.

Maria is not a good fighter. This is important and delightful, because she wins not due to aptitude, strength, or experience, she instead uses her knowledge as a mechanic, her “pegasian sight” (what Grandpa uses to refer to Maria’s incredibly powerful investigative faculties, being able to analyze situations and catch even the smallest details quickly) and the sheer heft of her brass pair of metaphorical horse balls to pull through with clutch victory after clutch victory. Zofia trying to cram as much fundamentals as she can on Maria in as little time as possible so she can survive also helps a lot.

Maria’s victories earn her the possibility of sponsorships, which would, superficially, fix her problems: The main Nearl house would retain status, she’d get a Title, and she would not have to fight anymore. But, see, this is not the point of Maria’s fight. One might say “Maria should’ve just taken the sponsorships”, but that’s not the point of Maria’s fight. She is pushing back against this highly commercialized view on “knighthood”, just like Margaret before her did. Margaret had a clear intent and her passions made her act mostly in anger, as she makes no secret: She hates Kazimierz for what it has become. Maria’s intent is less clear, even to herself, but she’s very much aiming for the same thing, but instead of Margaret’s anger, Maria has her determination. To have taken any sponsorship would have superficially kept the Nearl house afloat, but Maria is not looking to keep the house alone afloat, she’s looking to keep the house and the ideals in which it was built afloat. It goes beyond mere status.

In a world as bleak as Arknights’ and specially Kazimierz, Maria is no doubt naive to the point of frustration... But it is that which we call naive that makes a knight’s knight: Chivalry forged from ideals, sacrifice’s blunt borne from beliefs. The easy way out would’ve ultimately doomed her story, hence why she did not just move in with Zofia, hence why she did not just succeed Kowal and accept his workshop, hence why did not accept a sponsorship: It never was about that.

The very first event of the game, Grani’s Treasure, takes place in Kazimierz as well, but in the isolated outskirts, and we see hard-working, honest people, inhabitants of a nice little scenic hamlet. Now, we see what Kazimierz really looks like: A sprawling megalopolis of neon and concrete where the system shamelessly feeds on whoever sticks out their neck. The contrast couldn’t be harsher, and any hell is upheld by its demons: Czarny was a fascinating character, in that he very clearly held a lot of influence and power... And was extremely replaceable. The moment he messed up badly enough, he was instantly replaced by just whoever the hell picked up the phone next. It’s chilling. One puppet performed poorly? Irrelevant, there’s an endless supply who’ll take his place, provided enough fear and funds. Fear and money. The two currencies of Kazimierz. When a shadow council can just appoint you as the next Spokesman just on basis of you having picked up a phone without any real background check beyond “the previous Spokesman likely intended for this next sack of meat to pick up his phone in case he messed up”, well, congratulations, you’ve crafted a terrifying capitalist hellscape. No wonder Margaret hates Kazimierz so much, given the rot brewing in its underbelly and upper echelons.

And to all this, I have to say: It’s lovely. I loved the world building, implicit and explicit, I loved the cast, I love the themes explored and how characters were used to juxtapose these.

I feel it kinda drops the ball at the end by just... Not having a conclusion? It just sort of ends, which is very weird because events tend to be good at concluding themselves. I assumed we’d get some post-Challenge stages cutscenes to tie everything up like in the past but... No, not really, it didn’t happen. Margaret swoops in, the sisters perform the Ultimate Kamehameha on the Sarkazian Knights, and then it sort of ends one brief talk later. It needed a bigger epilogue, for sure. But this doesn’t ruin the event or anything, just a bit of a weak ending, everything else is still delightful and I loved it very much.

So yeah! The horses sure were wonderful!

[datawyrms]

Changed Hunt

For Phic Phight 2021! (not completely finished but AAAAfinshnowwww) lowkey Dannymay Day 2 Portal, as well

"That portal is awesome!" Sam says. "Would be so cool if it worked."

Danny goes down into the lab that night to try a few things—it doesn't quite go as he planned.(aka a no one knows au) (Dey’s prompt!)

Danny really wished Sam and Tucker had stayed a bit longer that day. With them around, maybe he wouldn’t have wandered in that portal like an idiot. In his own defense, how could he have known that little panel in there had been an on switch? Who’d put that inside a reality tearing portal device? Jack and Maddie Fenton, apparently. He was just lucky the thing hadn’t killed him! Or at least, managed to overdo it to the point he...survived somehow? He hadn’t really decided what that portal had done exactly. Waking in a pained heap, bathed in a haunting green glow from the now active portal was confusing enough. Looking up and seeing a stranger in the reflective panel nearby just made it worse. Of course he didn’t take it well, or know what to think. If he’d become a ghost, his parents would freak. Fixing their portal by turning into some...evil human hating creature probably wasn't in the plan. At least his terror somehow managed to get him to become human again. Heartbeat and everything. He hoped it had just been a weird one off, or he’d imagined it from trauma. Until he started falling through things. He died so hard  that he got his life back? The portal only managed to kill half of him? He was dead but ‘imitating humans’ was his specialty? Some human that just got to use his ‘soul’ or whatever to be a ghost early? Sam and Tucker might have had guesses- but he knew one thing right away. Whatever happened, he wasn’t all human anymore. He couldn’t tell them. What if they decided that was just too weird? What if they blamed themselves for not being there- thought they’d killed him? It wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, he couldn’t let Mom and Dad find out, so he’d be trying to hide any of the new weirdness anyway. Might as well just always do it. Maybe the weird new abilities would just go away. They hadn’t. They just forced him to think about it to keep both feet on the ground. He could deal.

Until other ghosts started showing up. Ghosts that actually knew how to be ghosts, terrifying powers and all. Ghosts that seemed to know what he was. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin when a green woman in a hairnet tapped him on the shoulder and asked who ‘changed the menu’. There was a lot of screaming and running away at that, considering she was floating and well. Obviously some sort of dead person. Freaky Fenton attracts freaky ghosts. Of course. She didn’t buy his claim of not knowing why the menu wasn’t exactly the same as fifty years ago (why would he? That’s a lot of years!) and thought setting ovens on fire and throwing them at him was a fair answer! So apparently Mom and Dad were totally right about ghosts being completely terrifying monsters that he should run away from very quickly. Which he did. He only ran into two walls he meant to go through, even. Just more reasons to never, ever tell anyone he might be like that crazed ghost lady. Mom and Dad proving their inventions actually did work sometimes was just icing on the ‘i’m so screwed’ cake. Ghosts exist, they fought one, and the school got shuttered for a week from excessive damage via flying appliance. Fun.

It was dumb to pretend that was a one off thing. It was stupid to think he could keep hiding what happened that day. Even if it felt safer, even if he just wanted to keep denying the portal was open so she could keep pretending it hadn’t done anything to him. Maybe if someone knew, he wouldn’t be hopelessly trapped by a huge glowing robot. Running didn’t work on this one like it did the older ghost lady. He tried, he really did, but the self proclaimed hunter kept tracking him down. Even when he transformed into the strange ghost version of himself he failed to dissuade the robot. Punching metal still hurt as a ghost, and so did getting pelted with little missiles. So much for intangibility being an advantage.

“You’re lucky that you’re a rare creature, whelp. Otherwise I’d be disappointed by how little effort hunting you took.”

Great, flame head thought he was a disappointing freak. More pressing was the net the ghost had shot at him that he couldn’t struggle free of. Even drawing on his weird ghost side wouldn’t let him phase through it. “Pretty sure you can’t hunt endangered species!” He redoubled his effort as the ghost picked up the net, trying to trick himself that his swinging was making him feel ill, not the terror of being carried off by some monster that came through the portal just to hunt him down.

“Hah! If I didn’t take you ghost child, someone else would simply end you.” The blank green eyes stared into his own as the machine pulled him up higher. “You should be grateful to be part of my collection.”

Danny gulped, unsure if he should keep his attention on his captor or the fact they were getting closer to the swirling portal. “How about no thanks? Since you’re such a good samaritan and all. You can just let me go and forget all about uh...this.” Why couldn’t he just squeeze out of the net, or make the rest of him all weird like when his legs decided to vanish sometimes? Pulling with his gloved hands wasn’t working, and the glow just grew  brighter as the lump in his throat got thicker. “Please? You already said I was weak, if you let me go I’ll be stronger next time!” Okay, it was a stupid plea but he’d try anything right now to not get dragged to some ghost world.

“I’m not a catch and release sort of hunter.” The ghost chuckled as his prey shrank back with the denial.

“How can you be the ‘Greatest’ hunter if you just go after kids, huh?” Begging wasn’t working, so maybe getting him angry? He couldn’t go through there, what if being on the other side made him more like this thing, or the other weird green monsters? “More like lamest hunter.”

“Oh you’ll see the sort of creatures I normally hunt, ghost child. Once you join them.” Skulker shook the net hard, rattling what little bravado Danny had managed to gather up right back out of him.

So much for that hope. “This has got to be a mistake, just let me go!” The ghost didn’t answer him, and he couldn’t help closing his eyes when the mechanical monster fired up a jetpack and flew through that portal. It wasn’t as cold as he feared it would be, it wasn’t like the void of space. Just as green as the portal, still a swirling background to everything. He swore he saw faces and doors, but couldn’t keep looking for long. The combined movement of being dragged along with the spinning energy was stomach churning enough, and he had to deal with the fact he didn’t know anything about this place. Even if this ghost decided to let him go, where would he go? Was there even anything to navigate with? He certainly didn’t see anything useful like stars. Would all this green stuff just soak into him and make him not want to find home? Nothing here made sense! It was easier to curl up instead of struggling with the net to stretch out, and the stupid ghost couldn’t see how the tears welled in his eyes as he struggled not to cry.

He should have been braver, should have tried to watch more, but it’d been too much. The crunch of metal against stone jarred him out of his silent self berating, just to be even more confused. He was on an island? That just floated, because islands did that here. Islands that had forests on them, that grew out of what looked like rock. Sure, okay. At least it was a bit of a distraction from the fact he was trapped by some evil robot in a completely different reality! Well. It had been. Seeing the fact the ghost lived in some weird stone skull jutting out of a mountain made him snort despite himself.

“You said my puns were bad, and you live in that thing?” He was pretty sure the green mohawk monster was Skull-something anyway. Mostly tuned it out after he kept repeating the ‘greatest hunter’ bit. “Ghost Zone’s Greatest Halloween Decoration’s a more fitting title.”

“For a terrified whelp, you are very chatty.”

“I think I looped around from terrified when I saw how doomed I am.” He was just joking. Totally. He wasn’t goofing around to try and fend off the engulfing panic of never getting home, nope. Absolutely not. He tried to pay attention to the strange ‘skull mountain house thing’, but the fact it reminded him more like a zoo inside wasn’t helping. Massive, monstrous glowing ghosts leering out and snapping as they passed, smaller sorts that didn’t even look up and several empty cages stained green was not calming his nerves. He couldn’t even describe some ghosts, being such a confusing jumble of parts that didn’t remind him of anything. All he could tell was robo-hunter probably didn’t have any willing guests. Unwilling guests that looked far, far more powerful than anything he could dream of trying. He was so, so doomed. To the point that being tossed roughly in a similar cage was almost a relief so he wasn’t right beside the ghost anymore.

First task was struggling free of the no longer glowing net (deactivated somehow? weird.) which wasn’t too hard, but just left him in his freaky ghost form, in a cage, in the middle of who knew where. The Ghost Zone, that’s what they kept calling it. Not Earth. Fantastic! That’s enough to get a C-, but not enough to get him out of this cage. Reaching through the bars was out, the unexpected shock had him rubbing his hand and grumbling to how having some invisible field between the bars was just unfair. At least let him see it before hurting him more. Now what? Grasping that feeling that let him walk through walls wasn’t letting him through the cage floor, just like how the net wouldn’t let him out.  Floating just reminded him of getting dragged here. So that was it. Why did he have to get stupid dying powers? They didn’t even do anything useful!

Stressing out and not finding a way out was an exhausting way to spend a few hours. He kept thinking of new problems, like he didn’t have enough already. When the robot wandered past, he almost grabbed the bars to get closer. “Hey! Screw head!”

The ghost actually looked at him, the stern face looking more confused than anything.

“Yeah you! You know I’m gonna like, starve to death in here, right?” Danny had no idea how he was managing to say something he was very terrified of coming true like it was a joke. “Kind of a waste, don’t ya think?”

“You will be fine, ghost child. Your pleas for freedom won’t fool me.”

“Wanna bet? Maybe we’re so rare because we all starve to death in this dumb ghost world or whatever.” That and there probably weren’t too many people dumb enough to get shocked to...sort of death. “That and like, you’re some freaky machine man, you probably don’t know anything about eating to start with.”

Skulker kept staring at him, as if doing that would suddenly reveal all his secrets. “Well I prefer live specimens, but I suppose I could always do with another rug.”

Oh gross! “Seriously? Do I look like rug material to you?”

“Wall art?”

Yup, he was gagging now. The very idea a ghost would want to do that just made his spine want to shake right out of him with disgust. “I’d be way out of place, all of the other ghosts here look like animals! You’ll just gross all your hunter buddies out.” Maybe if he pretended to be some know it all like Jazz the ghost would...reconsider making him into wall art? Uurk. What was his life that he even needed to think that?

At least that got the metal monster pondering, massive hand scratching at his chin. “I do wonder if your pelt would only show half of your nature.”

“How about we don’t test that and say we did.” He’d seen some of the knives on the way in and did not want any of them near him thank you very much. Not that he had much of a choice- oh man he really, really did not want to learn why Sam hated the fur industry this way. “Pretty sure I’d just die. More. Or something.”

“Oh, but you’ve seen the other pelts on the way in. They’ve still got enough of a spark to not melt to nothing ghost child. I’m not that sloppy.”

Oh so he could be barely aware wall art. Even better!  What would he do, skin him alive or just crush him? Both? “Humans don’t melt.” It was all he could think of blathering out. Don’t think about what the terrifying ghost guy can do Fenton, just don’t.

“True...unfortunately I don’t have another subject to test on.”

Score one for being a unique sort of freaky ghost kid. Maybe. “Soooo how about you just bring me back and rethink the whole uh. Hunting me thing.”

That just got Skulker laughing. “Not a chance whelp.”

“I’m not a whelp! I don’t even fit in with all your monster-things!” It had annoyed him, really. The other ghosts didn’t really...talk? “I’m not some animal!” 

More chuckling, as if amused by a puppy chasing its tail. “Of course you are, with that stench of the human world on you.”

“You think I smell. With what nose, metalhead?”

“None of your business. Not to fear, any ghost here can tell you’re a hybrid. That human body you insist on wearing can be felt even when you’re in a superior form.”

Oh, was this a ghosts thinking humans were animals thing? Or was this a ghosts are kinda racist to different ghosts thing. Was there a difference? He probably should have paid more attention in civics. “Yeah well that ‘human body’ needs food.” He wasn’t even going to touch the idea that he was ‘wearing’ his own body, eeeeugh.

“I’ll figure out a solution to your hybrid failings, child. I won’t let a prize go that easily.”

Greeeeeeat.

[musicallisto]

hello! i’d love to request a 🍨 for pb and got if possible. i’m she/her; bi; slytherin; september virgo; infp; 4w5. i’m 5’5”, slim build and fair-skinned with dark brown hair and the same colour eyes. as for my personality, i can be quite cold and reserved when i first meet people (which doesn’t really come out online) and i have a hard time trusting anyone new, but i truly love those closest to me. i use sarcasm 90% of the time and love teasing people but my intentions have nothing to do with hurting anyone. i subconsciously use laughter as a defence mechanism and i hate it. i’m lowkey a rebel which is just a nicer word for family disappointment. i have intense mood swings which i cope with by bottling up my emotions. i’d rather listen to people’s problems than talk about my own. despite the cold exterior, i can be soft and kind, and i believe in freedom and equality. i’m ambitious and love learning but not in the way school is trying to force me to - ew. my hobbies include reading books 24/7, writing (much less of the time, but hey, i still get around to it every once in a while) and watching tv shows. i’m also a cinephile and you can trust me with a list of recommendations for your next movie night.

i do hope this is enough; thank you very much fren xx

here’s your vanilla milkshake, Réka, and thank you for your patience! I think you would be amazing with these two incredible women - sansa stark and ada shelby!

You had been Sansa’s friend for as long as you could remember.

Social differences didn’t matter in the North as much as they did in the South, especially because the Lords of Winterfell had always been close to their people.

So despite the fact that she was highborn and proudly bore the name of the Starks, and you were a tanner’s daughter from Winterfell, your friendship with Sansa had never been frowned upon.

Especially since Ned clearly saw how much fun his daughter had with you. You were the only person she could be seen getting a little muddy and mischievous with. You weren’t true troublemakers, of course, especially not since Arya was the point of reference... but you had your moments of mindless fun.

Being best friends with Sansa was effortless; you hadn’t had to warm up to her, because you had always been close confidantes to one another. She understood everything about you, even when you didn’t say a word...

... but during your teenage years, when you both came of age and other townsfolk your age started discussing boys and flings, a pang of desire started to blossom inside of you and course through your veins.

Maybe you wanted more than to simply be Sansa’s best friend, after all.

Maybe there was more to the way you found yourself staring into her deep, blue eyes like they were the only color worthy of attention...

When Sansa announces that she is to leave for King’s Landing and marry Joffrey, you get into a pretty heated argument, the first you’ve had in more than ten years of friendship.

Part of you is reasonably upset that she kept a news so important a secret from you for so long; and another part of you is mortified and furious at the idea of her going to the capital and becoming Queen to the arm of a petty little brute as snotty as Joffrey Baratheon...

... when she could have stayed at Winterfell and, perhaps, one day, have made you Lady right alongside her.

You’d been bottling up your feelings for her for quite a while and didn’t know how to deal with them - terrified of rejection, but also of not acting out on them and lose her to another... and when she told you she would be leaving, it was like both nightmares coming true at once. There was no use anymore in snarky side remarks, and you exploded from sheer frustration and fright.

Obviously, she couldn’t possibly comprehend why you were so mad about her not telling you all about her family business - which was more about political affairs, anyway -, so you couldn’t sort out your disagreement,

and gave each other the cold shoulder for a few days.

Until the last night before her departure for the South with her father, where you snuck into the castle courtyard to say your farewells and bid her well - fearing you would not be able to if front of everyone on the following morning

And when she came down to meet you with a frown on her heavenly face, the words escaped your mouth before you could control them; they had been a long time coming, but at least they were out and you would not have to carry your secret to the tomb.

And she wanted to get mad at you for getting on your high horse and blowing up when you could have just as easily told her the truth...

... but she’s so elated that her feelings are reciprocated

... that even if she’s leaving for a place of appearances and to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, at least she knows there exists someone outside of her family who sincerely loves her and will always care for her

... and that there exists a world in which you love her and she loves you and that she just happens to live in this world

... that she just kissed you underneath the moonlight, desperate to get a taste of the last element of realness and familiarity that she’d keep to memory.

Of course, going to the capital and to Court had always been her biggest dream, but when she held you in her arms, she wasn’t so sure anymore it was worth leaving you behind.

“So you’re still going?”

“I have to.”

“I wish I could go with you.”

“I’ll be back. I promise I’ll do what it takes to return to the North and find you again.”

A Stark always followed through with their promises; that much you knew.

Ada and you are passionate about the same things, namely freedom and equality, which makes it easy for you two to hit it off.

You meet at a communist rally, where you’re instantly impressed by and drawn to her strong voice and stronger convictions. She doesn’t talk excessively, but isn’t unafraid to make her voice heard and opinions known.

From your very first meeting, you get a glimpse of how utterly devoted and dedicated to the cause Ada is, and that is even before recognizing her as a Shelby. Though you should have figured earlier - there aren’t many people, especially not women in Birmingham, who would talk so freely and pit herself against the men.

It makes her all the more attractive to you.

Still, you don’t develop a relationship of any kind until long after you met - but she’s a regular at communist rallies and actions for the party, as are you. You end up crossing paths quite often.

She’s an incredible orator, and is brazen enough not to be intimidated by the stares of every passerby when she must deliver passionate speeches about the progressive radicality of your movement. You realize you make an excellent pair - you’re a skilled writer who can move even the most disbelieving of men with your words, and she can blow life into them like no other.

So you write her speeches and she delivers your ideas to the whole world when you’re too insecure to do it.

And you progressively fall more and more in love with her, with how confident and blunt and daring she is.

She loves how well-read you are, too, and she tells you often the world would be a better place if it were filled with women like you, bright and selfless, not these greedy, idiot men who tear each other apart in pointless wars...

You relate so much to the experience of being perceived as a rebel simply for being a family outcast, it’s another bonding point between the two of you.

You don’t necessarily display a lot of affection when you’re together - partly because your relationship would cause quite the scandal if it came to light, but mostly because it’s just not your type.

You both can be quite swept up by the passion, especially when you're still on the adrenaline high from a chase from the cops or one of those Shelby businesses, which will often culminate in breathless, frenzied kisses in an alleyway...

... but the rest of the time, you’re more about sarcastic comments and a little bit of “tough love”.

Though you are fascinated by the relatively modern invention that is cinema in Birmingham, and on the rare occasion you have time and peace of mind enough to go to the “moving pictures”, Ada will, of course, come with...

... and it will most likely include sneaking into the projectionist’s room, a friend of yours from the party, and making out in there for most of the duration of the film.

800 follower sleepover CLOSED!

[mrsbarnes107]

Secret of the Widow

-part six-

Summary: Post Endgame time period. The team is healing, trying to navigate this new normal they’ve found themselves in when Bucky and Sam bring home a stray with an attitude and a secret. Will the broken team take her in? Or is it too much to bare?

Warnings: language, *eventual* violence and smut, death, fluff, angst

Pairings: Bucky x OC

Disclaimer: this is posted to Wattpad as well and it WILL HAVE PLOT. I’m a Bucky hoe so there will be smut and romancy stuff but this is a series, so plot plot plot.

Forty-five minutes later I walk out of my still steaming bathroom. I wish I could thank Tony for the never ending hot water and place to live, it's a nice change in routine.

I wish I could thank him for a lot of things.

I give myself a little shake. No sappy moments, not right now.

With a lighter step, I throw on some baggy sweatpants and a tank top, leaving my hair to air dry. I'm pretty sure a good first impression was thrown out the window already anyways.

With a final nod in the mirror, I leave the sanctuary of my room and give myself to the wolves.

As I enter the kitchen, the smell of cheeseburgers and salty fries hits me. I'm almost certain I let out a tiny moan, but I'm going to deny it if asked.

"Hey Ali, grab some food and come sit by me sweetie." Wanda yelled from the table, not even glancing at me, unlike the rest of the group.

Banner still seems reserved, like he doesn't know how he's suppose to respond to the news of my existence. Clint on the other hand looks like he has something to talk about, sad curiosity all over his features.

Having not eaten in the last two days, I'm positive I could inhale more of these beautiful beef buns than even Barnes can, who is currently sitting with three burger on his plate and a mountain of fries. Okay well maybe not him, but Wilson for sure. The mans pretty scrawny.

After getting my food, I plop down in the seat between Wanda and Bucky, immediately tearing into my food. Etiquette be damned.

"So where's Petey? He and I have some unfinished business." I'm pretty sure I just heard Barnes try to cover a small chuckle with a cough. I should probably not talk with my mouth full, at least not during my first ever meal with the team.... whoops.

"He's attending MIT, following Tony's footsteps apparently, so he went off somewhere to study his big book of boring." Wilson didn't even bat an eye while answering.

The room settled in silence for a few minutes. It was not a comfortable one at all.

With a loud sigh I set my wonderful, heavenly, beautiful burger down. "Okay. Spit it out. This silence is strangling me and I'm trying to enjoy this God sent meal in peace."

Sam chuckled quietly, wiping his mouth free from the mustard smeared everywhere. "Okay tiny Tony calm down."

That's the second time today I've been compared to Tony. Each time my heart breaks a little. It's nice though, having a part of him so apparent in me that they see it despite meeting me less than five hours ago.

"So you and Stark were close, obviously, Nat is your mom, still weird, and you know Barnes pretty well by the looks of it."

I pop a few fries in my mouth before answering. Mmm fried potatoes doused in salt is a glorious creation. "All of that is very true baby bird."

Barnes hides a smile as Sam glares very unthreateningly across the table at me. My fry hits him right in the nose.

This time Clint joins Bucky in choking down a laugh.

"So how well do you know Barnes here hm? You were eighteen when you met? I wonder-"

Bucky tensed up, jaw ticking away. Wanda just pursed her lips and kept quiet.

I set my hand on his metal arm. "Stand down Sarge, birdys just trying to wind you up." Bucky relaxes, nerves still on edge and eyes throwing daggers at the bird man.

I look to Sam with a raised brow. "I'm a lady Samuel, we don't kiss and tell. Did you have anything productive to ask before you got all pissy?"

He sighed in annoyance, eyes showing slight amusement. "I still want to know how you got those cuffs on us, they have no key or biometric identification. Did you see me enter the code?"

I let out a soft laugh and turned to Wanda. "You should've seen their faces, it was a beautiful sight." With a glance back at Sam I shove another bite of my burger into my mouth, talking around the food. "I worked with Stark for years dude. I have access to, and can override, anything in this building. He gave me full clearance before I could drive."

"But he never let you up here? Even when we were out on a mission?" This time it was Banner who spoke up.

With a small smile I shrugged. "We didn't want to chance me running into any of you, especially after Petey joined. He worked in the lab with me a bit and it made Tony a little wary. Plus Nat worried about Sarge here seeing me."

Buckys head snapped to me, not expecting to be brought into the conversation. "She knew I had no memories though, why would meeting me worry her enough to ban you from the upper levels?"

Our eyes locked for a few seconds before I turned away, glancing at him as I breeze past the question. "Conversation for another time Buck.... so who made dinner? Well complements to the chef Clint, this is some juicy meat."

•••

Dinner continued with light laughter, and small talk. The group introducing themselves and trying to welcome me into the tight knit squad. The atmosphere was kind, but I could see the change caused by the loss of their friends. A year later and the wounds are still barely even scar tissue.

I remember the times I'd be working in the lab and get bored, eventually deciding that the Avengers would be my own little reality show to pass the time. They use to be so care free, at least as much as they could be, laughter filling the halls and pranks pulled on one another. Now it's random bursts of joy until the silence relapses for a bit.

Maybe I can do some good here. At least bring a little more light into the tower, make the darkness fade a little.

Wanda and I decided to have a movie night in the living room while the guys did whatever guys do. She chose some romcom, which we inevitably verbally assaulted as the cheesy plot continued.

"So, Ali, besides Fury is there anyone else in your life?"

"Nah, there's been a few dates, but having to lie about who you are makes things difficult. Although, so does my choice in work and the fact that I'm very rarely interested in anyone enough to put in the effort." I gave her a shrug and just rolled my eyes, keeping the conversation light.

"I'm curious on the team dynamic. Tony and Steve were like the divorced parents that told everyone what to do, is it just a 'go with the flow' situation now?"

Thankfully this made her chuckle. "Apparently this family of ours can't function without parents that hate each other. Bucky and Sam are the exact same way, they've taken the mantle up themselves. But honestly we're still learning our strengths and how we fit without the old pieces."

I gave her a nod, forehead creased while I tried to picture the teams strengths and weaknesses cohesively fitting together.

It wasn't until midnight when we decided to get some sleep, setting plans to go shopping after lunch the next day.

The bed was more comfortable than anything I've ever had the absolute pleasure of laying upon, but I still couldn't pass the hell out.

I just grunted in very extreme annoyance, despite this being a normal occurrence, and rolled out of bed.

After a quick stop to the kitchen to make some tea, I made my way to Tony's lab.

It looked just as it did the last time I was here, seven years ago Thanos time I suppose.

Walking around the large space, knowing that Tony won't be strutting in yelling about his genius breakthrough after his twelfth coffee of the morning, or having him standing over my shoulder as he teaches me the new mechanics of his suit, well it's surreal.

The room doesn't even feel like him anymore. This lab was once a place that brought me a sense of comfort and home, a place where his laugh encompassed the very life of the room, where his sarcasm bounced of the walls in never ending jabs. Now it is just cold and empty. The joy it once held long gone.

I sit in the floor, leaned against his work table. Now realizing that tears are running down my cheeks, a quiet remembrance to a man I cared for like a father.

I don't bother to wipe the tears away, it'd feel like denying him this moment, I just sigh and rest my head against his chair. "Oh Tony, you self sacrificing idiot.. I miss you. So much. I can't believe you left me alone with Nicky, that was just cruel you know. You both did."

With a shiver I set the empty mug beside me, bringing my legs up to curl my arms around.

"Why did you always have to be so hell bent on sacrificing yourself? Everytime this world called, it was always YOU risking it all, YOU flying into a space portal, YOU getting so much hate and blame from the team, even SHIELD, all the time. I just-" a chocked sob surprises me as I realize this is the first time I've talked to him, really talked, in six years.

"You had everything T, a wife, a baby, me and Petey. And they asked you to give it all up, yet this world barely gives you the recognition you deserve. Steve walks out and just leaves, after so much death, so much that needs cleaned up, he makes the most selfish decision i have ever seen, and yet is grieved more than you are. He walked out on his best friend, left the team already broken, and had the audacity to think he was owed that selfishness. A man who gave up everything and asked for nothing in return, overshadowed by the man who had nothing and was handed everything." I let out an angry little chuckle.

"This world is so backwards and cruel. Now I'm left in it alone. What am I suppose to do T? This place, these people, there's no light here anymore. And I just- it's just- it's so hard Tony. My parents are gone and I'm alone and I miss you so much. Being here breaks my heart. Every second I'm within these walls, knowing I'll never hear your laugh, your encouragement or sassy remarks, never walk in to AC/DC blasting while your passed out at your table. Every second I'm here hurts T. I just- I miss you so much dad and I'll never get to tell you how much I love you."

If I hadn't had my eyes closed, or been in the middle of an impressive mental breakdown, I might have heard the footsteps approaching long ago. But my tears brought sleep to me quickly and everything went black.

[osakasshitpit]

I love Final Fantasy XIV

So I’ve been playing Final Fantasy XIV, and after playing for around 180 hours, I haven’t even finished A Realm Reborn. Normally, 180 hours is an insane time frame for a game to manage and hold my attention. Persona 5 Royal was 180 hours of game time, and that was slowly outstaying its welcome. FFXIV must be doing something right, because just recently I went to a convention and bought a Y’shtola Keychain in a heartbeat. I haven’t had time to play XIV a lot prior to this, since I was stupidly grinding Praetorium for days and got burned out. I haven’t played much in 2 months, and Y’shtola only really has a minor role during A Realm Reborn’s Storyline. Despite that, I started in Limsa and Y’shtola stuck with me since then. I just had to buy that keychain. My girlfriend asked me about it and despite me staying away from the game after being burned out, I explained to her in great enthusiasm why I loved Y’shtola and why I loved the game so much. I think that’s the first time I really realized how attached I was to this world, these characters, this game.

I came to FFXIV after having played WoW from Vanilla through WotLK, after having barely ever touched a MMO since quitting WoW. Honestly, I was very skeptical of XIV but holy fucking shit did it ever win me over. They are completely different games, mind you, but that is a good thing in my opinion.

So here is the longest tumblr rant post I have written so far, I think.

To be fair, the first 20 levels or so were kinda slow. You get thrown into the deep end and get bombarded with lore and characters, terms and phrases that you don't understand. For fucks sake, the opening cutscene shows Louisoix fighting Bahamut front and center. Its this big, epic moment of sacrifice, but to someone who has not played 1.0 and who doesn't know anything about the lore, this just zips right past you. During the main story of ARR, they keep talking about Louisoix and how important he is, but you haven't even seen the guy because he died before the game even started. I only really realized this today, it took me 180 hours and a look at the wiki to connect the dots. It really is a slow burn, but that slow burn was okay because everything else was so fantastic.

While the world can arguably be more subdued than Azeroth in parts, there is still this distinctive style that I quickly fell in love with. It’s fantastical, but it still feels grounded. Part of that has to do with how the game introduces you to the world, and how the main story quests explain to you the lore bit by bit. I feel like much of the world design of WoW was down to “the rule of cool”. Now, I’m not saying XIV doesn’t have that, but I feel like XIV always goes the extra mile to explain why this cool shit is here. Everything you see out there in the world feels like it has a purpose, a reason to be there and an explanation on how it works. The factions make sense, the political conflicts you get entangled in are believable. I feel like I am kind of biased to be honest. What got me to play FFXIV in the first place was seeing that Viera are a playable race. I’m a sucker for Final Fantasy, not in short part to my memories of Playing Final Fantasy Tactics and XII. XII is still my favorite game in the series, and much of that has to do with the world, Ivalice. Viera were always my favorite race of the ones seen in Ivalice. Seeing as you can play a Viera in XIV, I just had to try. Thinking about it, XII and XIV have a lot in common when it comes to world building.

One of the weirdest things to acclimate for me was how FFXIV handles story. I was used to WoW, where story was basically non-existent and you did what you did to see numbers rise and to unlock now content you could do. You are basically never involved in the story of WoW, you are just kind of there for the ride. In FFXIV, you are the main character. You are involved in what happens at all times, and that is kinda strange coming from WoW. At first I thought I wouldn’t like it, but the game made it work in my opinion. I also didn’t expect there to be so much of story to begin with. Kind of ironically the moment I realized just how much there was to experience was when I went through Ul’dah and saw a blue quest. Now, blue quest markers mean there is some content you can unlock by doing this quest. A lot of these are kinda short, with a bit of dialogue and some bits of lore for you to enjoy and I thought this one would be no difference. After all, the hook is basically just to help this lady mourn for the death of a friend. What I got was a fabulous detective adventure that spanned over the entire continent, where in I had to help the worlds most manly detective uncover the secret behind a mysterious phantom thief. To say the least, this 21 quest long quest line brought be hours upon hours of joy and had me in stitches throughout. And it was completely optional. I don’t think I even remember a single moment from any quest in WoW that made me this excited for it, optional or otherwise.

Ultimately these are very different games that try very different things.

Dungeons and Raids were a different thing. I remember when I rolled a new character for WotLK and wanted to do karazhan because I used to like doing that raid with my guild back in TBC. I could not for the live of me find a group willing to do it, because everyone was way more focused on the new content, so they could get better gear. Regardless, it just wouldn’t have been the same experience anyways I fear, because the new gear from the new Dungeons outclassed the raid gear from TBC, so karazhan would be way easier and a much different experience. In FFXIV, every dungeon is level synced by default, meaning if a higher level character joins, they get basically downgraded to the level the dungeon was designed for. Couple that with the Duty Roulette feature and suddenly, there was always someone to do any given dungeon with. I remember when I had to do the crystal tower raids and thought “why would they tie main story progression to a raid, I will never find a group to do that properly” but low and behold, I found a group within 30 minutes or less and raided through the entire set of raids within a day. Dungeons and Raids are generally a very pick up and play thing in FFXIV. To be fair, dungeons got easier and more pick up and play in WoW too, but Raids were always the endgame thing where you had to gear up and learn to play. In FFXIV, much more lenient. No corpse walking required. I say this, but I have yet to do the Coils of Bahamut or any Savage Raids. I have only heard that there is plenty of hardcore raid content for those who want that.

That’s nothing to say about the actual gameplay. FFXIV is a tab-target MMO, like so many others, but it manages to keep this kind of gameplay fresh by introducing a lot of mechanics that make the game more active than the typical “I stand here and hit my rotation a lot”. For starters, most enemies have special abilities that you can actually dodge by moving out of the way. There will a area marker on the floor and everyone within that area will be hit. It starts out easy, but later dungeons really start kicking your ass with this mechanic. You really need to say on your toes. In addition, every class is extremely different. They all have special mechanics unique to them, special meters and resources they will have to manage during combat and so on. For example, a Red Mage (the class I’m playing currently), has two meters that fill up as you cast spells. They generally have two types of spells, white and black magic. Each type fills its respective bar. Once they are both full enough, you can go in and do a more powerful melee rotation. However, if one bar is fuller than the other, the other bar will fill up slower. Since you need to fill both, you want to balance that out. You get instant casts for spells after performing a damaging spell, and you have some spells with a short cast time and good damage output that you want to cast and then use the instant cast of to cast a more damaging spell that has a long cast time. But these short cast, good damage spells require a you get from casting a spell of the respective type. So, in essence, you want to balance your use of black and white magic, but you also want to use the proc you get from casting your white and black magic, which means you cast more of the type which inherently unbalances your gauges. It becomes this micromanagement game you play with your procs and instant casts, so you can go in and do the big, flashy sword combo. And that’s just the red mage at around 50. Every class has something like this, and it’s all unique to them. Learning a class is not just learning the rotation and spells you have anymore, it’s really learning how to effectively play your class. Also, positioning. Some abilities do more damage from certain positions, so you will have to dance around an enemy to hit all the sweet spots with classes like monks. These complexities get introduced slowly as you level up, so you have plenty of time to learn the mechanics. My favorite feature might be the class system itself, though. In FFXIV, you aren’t limited to one class for the entire duration of your characters career. You can, from a certain point forwards, choose any class you wish and level that up instead. You can freely switch between classes outside of combat, too. If you are dedicated enough, you can level them all up to max, even. This means if you don’t like a class or the direction a class is going in, you can switch. I for my part started as an arcanist, so I unlocked Summoner at 30. I played Summoner up to 50 but I was just not meshing as well with the direction the summorer went in. So, I switched to Red Mage and after some getting used to, Its now my new favorite. Arcanists are special, because you actually unlock two classes at 30, so I also unlocked Scholars. Scholars are healers and that became my main dungeon class, since queue times are way shorter for healers. This would be unthinkable in WoW, and love the fact this is a thing here.

If I had to describe it, WoW is an MMO with RPG Elements, while FFXIV is a JRPG with MMO elements. I didn’t know I needed that, but in retrospect, it makes sense. The thing that really killed my progress in WoW was that I didn’t have anyone to play with anymore. My friends all dropped from the game and while I generally like doing solo content from time to time, I’m pretty introverted, after all... MMORPGs are usually most fun with friends. Final Fantasy XIV is a JRPG first, an MMO second. There is so much to keep your attention as a solo player, its nuts. All my friends who play this game, play on a different data center, so I can’t even visit them. Despite that, I had a lot of fun in my time with the game.

My experience with the game was incredibly positive, and I don’t think it will get worse from here. Everyone keeps telling me how great Heavensward is. I just have to finish 16 more quests and I’ll be able to see for myself what the fuss is about.

Honestly, if I had to say anything negative, it would be how longwinded ARR is. I mean, its not bad by any means, but I can see how someone could be turned off by this huge storyblock. Worst of all is, after you hit 50 and reach the end of ARR’s story line, there are 80 quests before you can even start with Heavensward. Since everyone keeps going on about how great it is, it’s kind of annoying how long you have to work to even get to it. In retrospect, it kinda makes sense though. These quests are meant to be played over months and months throughout a update cycle and bridge the narrative gap between one storyblock and the next, but holy fucking shit why did it have to be THAT long. They even cut like 20 of the quests from this already insanely long quest line. What the fuck. This is supposed to be an epilogue to ARR and it feels like I played a whole fucking JRPG in between ARR and Heavensward. Oh well. Thankfully, they learned from this and made the post-story blocks shorter.

I will just say that I can recommend this game. You should give it a try. Just... try not to drop the game before it gets really, really good.

[writing-in-april]

A Tale of Two Poe’s

Poe Dameron x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: AU where Poe Dameron and Edgar Allan Poe both exist in the Star Wars universe. Reader finds a book containing the writings of Edgar Allan Poe and just can’t wait to show her Poe.

A/N: This is a purely self indulgent fic lmao 😂 this AU idea where Poe Dameron and Edgar Allan Poe exist in the same universe came into my head a while back and I just had to write it. Idk if it’s weird or not but I enjoyed writing it lmao- also obviously credit goes to Edgar Allan Poe for all his stories and poem excerpts I use. @writefightandflightclub and @sergeantkane are definitely my go to for Poe fics if you’re curious and they always inspire me to write more for Poe but- there are so many other amazing writers for Poe too. I’ll have to make a fic rec list for him soon. This also is my second fic for my 1000 follower celebration!!! I want to thank you all so much again, this is so surreal!! Thanks for reading and requests are open!!

Warnings: Uhh- a sexual innuendo & talk of death in the war I think that’s it...

Main Masterlist Word count: 2.2k

The amount of bookstores that were left in the galaxy was such a small and minuscule number, most people just used their data pads to read, that is if they read anything at all. It was such a shame, in your opinion. No data pad could truly recreate the magic of a physical book.There was nothing better than opening a book, new or old, the parchment smell wafting around under your nose as you fully enveloped yourself in the words on the page.

You had stopped in at the old library after you had completed a routine information pick up for the resistance. The planet you were on was the beautiful Naboo and you had a couple hours to kill before your partner, Poe came with his x-wing to pick you up. The little vintage book store stood out in the ethereal metropolis of the big city, and you were instantly drawn to it.

When you entered the little shop it was filled wall to wall with books, you had never seen so many books in your life before. Personally, you only had three that you kept on top of your small dresser that you put the small amount of clothes in. They weren’t interesting books to say the least, mostly consisting of military procedurals from your early days in the academy, besides one novel written on a planet far away called Earth named “A tale of two cities”. The book shop made you want to take all of them back to base and read every leisure novel you could ever want to read. However, there was no real time and you didn’t have the money to take all the books home with you, so you settled on picking one that really grabbed your attention.

The book that caught your eye was a black hard cover, so thick because of how many pages it held that you could barely hold it in one hand. The spine said “The complete collection of stories and poems by Edgar Allan Poe” and just by flipping through it a little you gathered that it must have also been written on the planet Earth, just like your one other novel. You loved the other novel and you knew that you were definitely going to bring this book home, even if you didn’t enjoy it at least you could tease Poe about the shared name. But, you had a feeling you were going to enjoy it.

You opened the book to another random page written by the person who held a similar name to your man and landed on a page that had a poem by the name of Annabel Lee. Poems were not something that were often seen in the galaxy anymore, even on the data pads that everyone used. They had fallen into obscurity as a form of literature that was obsolete and pointless.

The poem instantly had you hooked just in the first few lines, it was definitely a sad poem, as you suspected the rest were as well. But, the beautiful well written rhymes seduced you like the sirens you had heard about from Ahch-To. Though, Rey had told you the Thala-sirens were not nearly as beautiful as the myths would have you believe. Realizing that you were getting tight on time you rushed to check out the book, you didn’t want to worry Poe. Once you had paid the kind older lady who ran the shop you ran quickly out to your rendezvous point where Poe was already anxiously waiting.

“Kriff- there you are, I was worried something had happened to you.” His eyes were a bit frantic looking and hair disheveled. he had undoubtedly been looking around for you in worry while running his hands through his hair and had been pacing. Poe needed to learn to relax every once and awhile, he was often an overworrier and was often overworked.

“I’m only a few minutes late, relax. I just had to pick up a little surprise for you.”

“A surprise? What is it?” He reached to grab the parcel that the book had been wrapped in by the owner of the shop. You swiftly pulled the package away from him, you wanted it to be a surprise for later, when you both could relax.

“Hands off- I’ll show you later, be patient.” His indignant sigh only caused you to roll your eyes while you both climbed into the x-wing, with you sitting on Poe’s lap. He was so dramatic sometimes. Maybe, someday you’d get to come back to the bookshop on Naboo to get some more books, with hopefully Poe in tow next time.

—-

When we got back to base you were vibrating with excitement in anticipation of showing Poe the book that had an author with the same name as him. Throughout the entire briefing with Leia she could probably tell that my mind was in a far off place, almost like you still had my head stuck in the book. When she’d finally dismissed you after you had gone through the mission debriefing I bolted to our shared quarters. Once you had gone in the fresher for a quick wash and got dressed for the night you hopped in your small bed that you shared with Poe, but not before grabbing the new book you had added to your collection.

“Come to bed, I’ve got something for you.” You said as soon as Poe got through the door. He always had to check in with the main mechanic that worked on his x-wing right after he came home on a mission, it was the only way he would ever let anyone touch black one.

“Oh? Is it that surprise you were talking about earlier?” His signature cheeky smile that he flashed you while he stripped off his flight suit let you know immediately what he assumed the surprise was.

You threw his pillow he used at him, then accosted him playfully,“It’s not what you think it is you horndog, I’ve got a book for you.”

“A book? You know I don't know how to read.” You wished that you had a third pillow to throw at him in that moment, but you didn’t want to lose your own pillow. There had been many times in your relationship where Poe had stolen your pillow to mess with you and you weren’t about to give him the upper hand.

“Shut it, I’ll read it to you, you big baby.” He was now dressed in your favorite ensemble besides his flight suit, a white tank top, boxers, and nothing else.Patting the bed right next to you, you finally got him to come over to you. He sank down next to you on the bed, making sure to immediately cuddle up into you, you then spoke again,“But, before I do I want you to see what the Author’s name was.”

Handing him over the hardcover he looked at the name on the spine with furrowed brows, then letting out a breath of laughter once he read the Author’s last name. He didn’t read often like he had joked earlier, but he definitely could read the big gold leaf cursive letters that said, Edgar Allan Poe. “Woah, that’s cool. He would’ve been cooler if he had Poe for his first name though.” In response to another cheeky comment from him I bonked him on the head with the book before I started to read, “It was many and many a year ago,   In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know   By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought   Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child,   In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love—   I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven   Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago,   In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling   My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came   And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre   In this kingdom by the sea.” As you lilted your voice through the poem you could feel Poe sinking down further into relaxation, which was good since he hardly ever relaxed. He was always on the move all the time because of his vast responsibilities as a commander in the resistance. To be honest, you could do with some more relaxation like this in your life, just you, Poe, and a charging BB-8. You must have paused for a second with your reading because Poe looked up at your with his deep caf colored eyes in question, prompting you to continue, “The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,   Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,   In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night,   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love   Of those who were older than we—   Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in Heaven above   Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,   In her sepulchre there by the sea—   In her tomb by the sounding sea.  — why are you crying?”

A few small tears had welled up in the corners of Poe’s eyes with one spilling over to run down his scruff covered cheeks. He sniffled a bit, wiping away the tears before speaking, “Just reminded me of you and how much I love you. I don’t like thinking about you dying, I don’t think I could survive.”

Your heart broke a little, but also felt filled with the feeling of love. You knew there were even more dark times ahead in the war, you had both even had a conversation of what would happen if one of you passed. You even had letters that were to be read by the other if something were to happen. Even though you had discussed this before, you agreed with Poe, you never wanted to think about what the galaxy would be like without him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You ran your fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth him a bit. You felt a little bad that you had not realized how much it might affect Poe, so you decided to shift the subject to something that hit less close to home, “I’ll read something a bit different. They’re all dark, but I’ll pick one that you’ll enjoy more.”

You then began to read the Cask of Amontillado, which was a story that you both could relate to personally less which meant you could both fully enjoy the story.

“You were right, I liked that one.” He took the book from your hands to inspect the black book further, “How old is this book?”

“I don’t know, probably pretty old. I’ll have to take extra good care of it.”

“Yeah, just as long as that doesn’t become your favorite Poe in your life.” Poe’s signature cheeky grin was back on his face, then tilting his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours.

“Ok, Edgar.” A wide cheeky smile was now on your face, proud of your ‘clever’ new nickname for Poe.

“No no no that nickname better not stick.”

“But- your hair looks so similar to his! Look at all those dark messy curls! I’m keeping the nickname.” You flipped to one of the earlier pages of the book that had a short biography at the front about the author with a print of a portrait of the author. His expression soured once he looked at the portrait, realizing that his curls did in fact, look like the Author’s. He let out a fake disgruntled sigh that did a horrible job of hiding his underlying happiness and flopped down back on the bed to cuddle up with you for the night.

The entire resistance was confused why you had started calling Poe, Edgar whenever you wanted to tease him. But, you guys kept the secret of the tale of two Poe’s, the only people who knew the origins of the nickname were you and your Poe. The nickname definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added)

All works: @shotarosleftpinky​ @oreogutz​

Poe Dameron/SW:

[the-headbop-wraith]

3_45 _ The Past is Gone

  Nothing of Kingsman Mechanic’s appeared out of place. A few lights poured clarity across the work floor, but the other rooms and the storage chamber remained inactive. On the main floor, the white and black hound scurried this and that way, struggling to untangle the erratic path.

 Arthur raised his legs as Mystery padded by. The dog took a sharp left and continued, first checking the flatbed the intruder skipped over, and then roving toward vehicles parked in stations. Mystery came upon a large and swollen duffle bag, laying beside a supply cart. He pawed at the clunky thing, nipping at the zipper on the side.

 Lewis prodded at the sack, shifting it one way then the other cautiously. It was hard and chunky, likely some sort of equipment. The question though, did he bring this in or was he taking it?

 A bark form Mystery assured that there was nothing hazardous. Lewis tugged the zipper and tilted his skull.

 “You should’ve barbequed the guy,” Vivi grumbled. She moved in beside Lewis and peered over his shoulder. “Skinned and then barbequed.”

 “A bit excessive.” Lewis angled his skull up and peered across the room, to Arthur. “Turned him inside out, and then barbequed.”

 “Now you’re talking.” She leaned down and touched his hand. “It’ll be okay. Uncle cares a lot about you, but he needs some time to adjust.”

 Lewis rasped. “He needs time to adjust.” He didn’t bother to zip up the bag, and stood. “First thing he does is put a hole right through me. Who does that?”

 “A protective parent?” Vivi posed. She leaned around Lewis’ side, staring up at him. “Arthur’ll be fine, he’s sore but it’s all aches. He told me nothing in his shoulder was torn or cracked, which is a marvel.” She pushed him by the lower back, coaxing the tall spirit on his way.

 Two hours following the intruder’s retreat, Uncle Lance was on his second pot of coffee. In that time, Vivi did her best to reconstruct the events of what transpired all that time in the past, wherein an ‘accident’ occurred. There remained crevices that she could not put description into, due to Lance’s inexperience to the actuals of the Mystery Skulls paranormal investigation. And also, that Lewis’ did not merely loose his footing on some slippery rocks. It wasn’t a good time to bring in the influencing force, or place the ideal that it’s compulsion was strong, if not impossible to fight away. Despite the skewed memory, Vivi was the only candidate to elaborate the details. Lewis was adamant about that.

 For the most part, Lance seemed to take it all in as well as anticipated. He did need some time alone to think, and really grapple with what he was seeing. Beyond the revelation that Lewis wasn’t gone – not entirely there, either – the shock that supernatural creatures existed out there, entities that occurred not far from his home base.

 As for the intruder in the mask, the trail led outside and down the road. Mystery lost it on the sidewalk, prompting Vivi’s speculation that he got into a vehicle and departed. She returned to Kingsman and checked on Arthur, while Lewis accompanied Mystery in the next search. The motivation and intent of the assault. The bag offered some insight.

 “Good news, we figured out what the guy was here for,” Vivi proclaimed, in a strong dramatic whisper.

 “And there. I didn’t drop you off someplace. High.” Lewis set the bag down at Arthur’s feet. A look of ‘what the fu—' crossed Vivi’s face when she directed her eyes to Lewis. “You… don’t seem as appreciative as you should be.”

 “Lew!”

 Arthur fixed the soggy bag of water against his neck. “Sorry. Not surprised, is all. This is the furthest anyone’s got with getting away. At least, that I know of.”

 Vivi was aghast. “This has happened before?”

 “Not like this.” He flecked his hand upward. “If someone breaks in, they jack shit that’s easy to access. Grab’n go. We store special components upstairs, things that get legs real easy. Whatever’s pricey and small, easy to miss, gets locked up. Only one other guys has the keys, aside from Uncle and me.” He sighed. “Not that this would do anyone any good.” With his hand, he rifled through the duffle. Some folders were crammed in, among the shell and arm shapes.

 Lewis shifted and looked away, his thumb stroked the underside of his cheek bone. “Then, could it have been someone working here? One of the grease monkeys?”

 Mystery yapped and gave his head a shake, ears flopping.

 “Not… likely,” Arthur drawled out. “These models are shells, nothing useful has been incorporated into them. It’s possible the guy grabbed and jammed, if he was in a hurry. But you didn’t run into him upstairs, not in that tiny corridor. So, he was already on his way out.”

 The four hung quiet a moment, debating on the assessment. Lewis broke the silence, “So, what does that mean?”

 Arthur shrugged. “I’ll go upstairs and check, make sure nothing else is missing. You lost the trail?”

 Mystery borked and spun in circles. Got in a car and zoomed.

 “And what sort of car?”

 Mystery tapped his front paws, raising one and flattening his ears down. “Mhh….”

 Lewis and Vivi exchanged a look. Vivi said, “Hangs around a car garage?”

 “Can’t distinguish between the different models?” Lewis finished.

 Mystery snorted and left them, ears twisted back and muzzled crinkled. All this oil smells the same.

 Lewis gestured to Vivi. “There’s not a lot to work with.”

 “No.” She turned to Arthur. “Let’s get you upstairs so you can lie down.” Vivi leaned down and took Arthur’s upper arm. Lewis took the bag up and moved aside, while Vivi hefted Arthur off the box. “We can ask Uncle Lance about the cameras later.”

 “I’m fine,” Arthur insisted, though he let Vivi aid him in getting upright. Lewis stood by, hand open as if he wanted to assist but wouldn’t move towards Arthur. “Think I was mostly stunned. Good thing these boxes were empty. Anyway, the cameras wouldn’t be much help. Aside from proving the guy was a jerk.”

 “Always the optimist,” Lewis crackled. “I doubt they’ll come back around.”

 “You sound real proud of yourself,” Vivi quipped, through a grin.

 “I really wish you’d seen them. It was like they saw a ghost.” Lewis’ skull swiveled on his collar, and he wound his shoulders around to face the stout figure approaching them.

 Lance gave his face a firm rub, before searching the group over. “Don’t mean tu break up teh powwow. Your gunna be okay, Art?”

 Arthur grimaced and pulled on the edge of his vest. “I’ve been worse.”

 A steely expression crossed Lance’s face, but he didn’t respond on that. “Yuh. Sure. Um, I want to head on over to my place, sleep this off. Might take the rest of the day off.” He pointed to Arthur. “And you’re not comin’ in either.”

 “I already had the day off….”

 “The whole week, then.”

 “Uncle,” he groaned, stretching awkwardly around Vivi to facepalm.

 “No. M’words final. You. Ghost Pepper.”

 Lewis eye sockets surged with those fuchsia flames. “It’s Lewis, Uncle Lance. Lew-Is.”

 Lance swept his arm. “C’mere. I want a word with you.”

 A low rattle burned through Lewis. “Juro si este va a ser un tema recurrente….”

 Lance led the way through the work floor, and into the dim corridor entrance. The shorter man stood with his arms crossed, glaring at Lewis and trying to look as imposing as he could muster without standing on his toes. Lewis met the stance, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

 “Vivi talked with you.”

 “She talked with me,” Lance acknowledged, with a nod. “N’it was a good conversation. A lot tu take in. There’s a lot tu… tangle mah thoughts ‘round.” He glanced a little beyond Lewis’ shoulder. “I try not tu pry into your kids… Arthur and Viv-vi’s going on’s. I trusted… ‘em, despite whut happened to m’boy. Tu yu.”

 Lewis creaked back and looked away.

 Lance went on, “I thought stayin’ busy an’ doin’ their thing was right. But now, I dunno if that was what bein’ best for ‘em. She told me what ya’ll been preoccupied with, but there bein’ more she ain’t willing tu give over. All this time, I thought yu were out on the road, unmasking kooky loonies playin’ pretend. Fakes doin’ shenanigans for publicity, tryin’ to shirk a profit.”

 For a minute the two stood, quiet and contemplative on the crossroads. It was not total silence, a steady thrum persisted from Lewis. Like a heartbeat, Lance was not eager to address.

 “And what’s this about Arthur comin’ home, with his arm all beat tu heck?” Lance snarled. “First, he loses it. Now it’s cursed, and he can’t – he can’t furbish a replacement to make use. Keep it functional for more than… a couple months! Yu’re adults, and ya’ll got yur business tu work through, but do yu lot got yur priorities squared?”

 Lewis frowned. “You’d have to take that up with the boss lady.”

 Lance pressed his hands to his face and took a deep breath. “Yu and I are talkin’ it now.” He pried his hands from his face and held his palms together, against his nose.

 For the first time, Lewis realized Lance’s hands were quaking. It was subtle, maybe he didn’t realize it. The stillness hung between them, while Lance struggled to get his bearings.

 “Somethin’ happened between you an’ Art, I’ve seen enough tu conclude that.” Lance sighed. “Yu won’t e-Lab-or-ate on it, an’ that’s all right. It’s your business. But yu should know I am downright upset I wasn’t told about this.”

 Lewis tilted his skull. “About… what?”

 “About what?” he exploded. “About… everything! All of this! I deserved tu know something, any small scrap that wasn’t a lie! A bit of the truth, that’s all I ask. I can’t be there for Arthur,if he’s hidin’ away!” Lance threw his arms up gesturing nothing in particular, his breath came labored and his brow beaded with droplets. “About yu! I should’ve in the least, been told yu’d… resurfaced, or sumthin’! Whatever y’all call it. Do your parents kn—?”

 “NO!” For the first time Lewis’ features snapped from gnawing fury, to wide eyed horror. “No-no! They can’t! And you can’t tell them!”

 Perplexed and alarmed, Lance eased back. “Okay. I got it.” The light of the corridor fluttered, the embers in Lewis’ skull flashed.

 “They can’t know about me, about what I—  About what happened. Please, Uncle Lance,” Lewis rasped, the remnants of his speech drew on a rustling surge. The spirit clasped his hands together. “There’s only one thing I will ever-ever ask of you, and it’s that you never speak about what you saw here with anyone, save for Vii and Artie. Please! Don’t do that! I’m begging!”

 There was something else that Lewis wasn’t saying, he could scarcely make it out in those gleaming eyes. But the utter desperation and remorse reverberating in that ‘voice’, he couldn’t bear to ask and witness the rush of agony. Lance didn’t understand, but the topic pained Lewis in some undefined way. Or, it could’ve been a trick of the light.

Lance took another step back, hitting the wall behind him. “I hear ya, they won’t… Yu have mah word.” The skull retained its defensive countenance, and he struggled to overlay what a living Lewis might’ve looked like right now.

 “They uh… they’re likely waiting on yu. Art and Vii,,” Lance took a work rag from his belt and swept it across his face.. “Lewis, listen. I want to— You’ve always been a good kid.” How did he say this? “I worry abou’ ‘em, and I’m worrin’ more now thinking about… all this. You can’t, I mean – I know I can’t— I don’t want what happen….” There wasn’t a good way to deliver the request, so he gave up in a long-winded sigh.

 “I’m headed off now.” Lance moved down the corridor, but only got three steps before he about-faced and marched back. “I did’t park out front.” He inched by Lewis and made it another five steps, then swung back. “It was good seein’ yu again. Yu gunna be around an’—” Before he finished, a flash of flames engulfed the figure and in the curling ash remained nothing but a faint outline. In short time, as Lance’s eyes readjusted, the murky impression faded.

 “I’ll take that as a no….”

  __

  In the time that Lance took Lewis aside for a short exchange, Arthur had relocated upstairs to his work room where he currently perused through his personal gear and spare parts. When Vivi made certain Arthur would take it easy and not stress, she left to pick up some food for the evening. Given everything that went down, neither was inspired to head back to her apartment and try getting back on track. Work, even casual work stuff, could wait.

 “None of the work gear got mucked with,” Arthur mentioned offhand, when Lewis materialized in a plume of heat in the doorway. He lay reclined on the sofa, his head resting on Mystery’s back while his legs sat propped by the arm rest. “Dunno how long the guy was working, since closing. Arms are easy to build, for the most part. But that paranormal stuff is kinda pricey.”

 He leaned his head up to see Lewis better, when the spirit glided over behind the couch. The skull and death suit, any number of reasons why. Could’ve forgotten in all the chaos, or didn’t care. “How you holdin’ up?”

 “Fantastic,” Lewis wheezed. “I have one fear now.”

 That didn’t sound good. Arthur pondered if he should tease the subject further, but given the vibrant tension smoldering around Lewis he decided any other day might work better. He adjusted the new ice bag on his forehead and shut his eyes.

 “Why didn’t you just, y’know, disappear? You’re good at that.” He opened his eyes and winced. Lewis was leaning on the couch, glaring down at him.

 “Wasn’t really keen on leaving you in the care of your Uncle, regardless of good intentions.” Lewis lifted one arm from the couch and touched the locket thudding on his chest. “Did not expect him to go full Ash Williams with handling threats. Where’s Vivi?”

 Mystery woofed.

 “You should get some rest while you can,” Lewis offered. “It’d be safe now.”

 Something in Lewis’ tone made Arthur leery. “You gunna keep an eye on me?”

 “I won’t go anywhere without telling you.”

 Mystery twisted his body around enough to nuzzle Arthur’s hair.

 “I have a sneaky suspicion I should keep an eye on you.” The glare subsided, but Lewis still seemed peeved. Arthur edged a little away from the spirit, pulling his body more over onto the coffee table. “You’re not planning on going anywhere. Are you?”

 “Absolutely not.”

 “Damn it Lewis, I can’t tell if you think you’re being subtle or an ass. Knock it off.” Lewis expression shifted no miniscule way, aside from the faint waver of his burning eyes. Was it possible they looked much hotter than usual? “I’ll update security, put some better locks on the doors – not that it ever stopped thugs from breaking in before.” That’s why Lance had the shotgun. “We can’t go any further. We shouldn’t. And I’m ‘bout done with this.”

 “How ‘bout I find this guy anyway?” Lewis stood away from the couch. “A little more inspiration, to assure they won’t even dream of setting foot here, ever again.”

 Arthur got off the couch and went over to the boxes of gear, digging through the packing. “What is this fixation you have with revenge? What you’ll wind up doing is, draw too much attention to us. In our hometown no less. Get a grip!”

 “My frien—” Lewis let his tone sputter out not too gracefully, and backtracked on the sentence. “You get creamed, I got shot up – I think I’m entitled to invoke a lil retribution.”

 Arthur pulled out some equipment and set it carefully aside. Damn, it was tedious doing anything one handed. “You scared him off. That was enough!”

 Mystery was glancing back and forth between the two. Where the hell was Vivi?

 “It’s not enough,” Lewis hissed. “We’re in a fine fix on account of that-that… delincuente. And I will make certain he never comes back! What are you looking for?”

 Arthur dumped one of the energy readers. “Where the heck is Vivi?”

 Lewis crossed his arms. “She’d tots be on board with this scheme, and you know it.” Arthur deflated over the box.

 “Shit, you’re right.” Lewis leaned over him.

 “Tell me what you’re looking for, Arthur.”

 Arthur cowered under the shadow. “I’ll tell you one thing, it has nothing to do with you.” Lewis’ eyes burned brighter.

 “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?”

 Arthur snapped his fingers. “Shoot! Damn. Can’t get one by you, can I?”

 Mystery rolled his eyes and face palmed. He bled, for this?

 It was not long later that Vivi was standing in the doorway with groceries, beholding as Lewis and Arthur went at each other. She had NO IDEA what was going on, it was the midpoint of some consecutive theme, bouncing around the argument that Arthur was being too passive. For Arthur’s credit, he looked like he was trying to haul Lewis up by the lapels of his death suit. It was quite the sight to walk in on. The scarce traces of embers bristled around the room, and Mystery was trying to keep them from alighting on anything flammable. Anything flammable seemed to be everything.

 “—you let that thing into my home. Practically invited it!” Lewis screeched.

 “What home?” Arthur snarled. “The mansion?”

 “I don’t recall owning costal real estate!”

 Vivi took a breath and raised her voice. “Hey, you guys gunna be okay?”

 Lewis and Arthur simultaneous spat, “NO!”

 She turned to Galahad, bundled in her scarf. “At least they agree on something.”

 “You don’t own anything!” Arthur rebuked. “You just haunt some place and—” Lewis pointed down at Arthur.

 “Don’t you dare go there, Kingsman.”

 In a mad dash, Vivi left Galahad to Mystery and shoved herself between the two, breaking Arthur’s grip on Lewis. “Enough! The both of you can just take two big boy steps away.” Lewis reversed a step due to her full body shoving, but he held his glower on Arthur. “All right, listen! We all had an arguably fucked up evening, but we are not doing this tonight! Both of you! That’ll be enough!” She gave Lewis a harder shove, to dislodge him fully.

 “You never had a temper like this!” Arthur snapped back, while Mystery tugged him away by the back of his vest. “The littlest things piss you off. How am I supposed to work around you when you got all these… these barriers, everywhere!” He stamped his foot.

 “I’ve been somewhat overheated since my ultimately demise,” Lewis grated, “but I have been trying very-very hard to be very-very-VERRRY patient. All the same, you make that so difficult.”

 At least he wasn’t resisting her asserted relocation. “And we are so proud of you,” Vivi snapped. “You’ve been working so hard, hasn’t he Arthur?” She glanced back

 Arthur blinked. “Are YOU kidding me!”

 “Oh my lor—  Hasn’t! He! ARR! THUR!”

 Arthur slapped his face. “FINE! The bare minimal, what’s the bare minimal? You didn’t roast Uncle, like you almost roasted me and Vii! I’m so ecstatic! Ya get a Gold Star!”

 Lewis shifted against her palms, but seemed to calm down and eased out of leaning. The embers still lingering around the room snuffed out, leaving only the kindling scent. “Yeaah,” Lewis hummed.

 There was no way to oppose that. He wouldn’t admit Arthur was right, but he did have a point. It was a lot to deal with, and not a lot of time allocated to process. Though, it wasn’t just getting shot a dozen times and dealing with Uncle Lance all in the same hour; then, the expectation of carrying on, like nothing happened – all of it scorched him. He was a little more than irritated, and he was… afraid. Afraid, when he didn’t reach Arthur in time, and frustrated he didn’t have the foresight to restrain the intruder; more than that, fretful and unsatisfied by what was left. None of this he could convey practically, yet he… he couldn’t hide it either. There was a lot he couldn’t really conceal, ignore, or repress. He could do better, but it was... hard. They didn’t know how hard this was.

 The other three went quiet, as well. Arthur hadn’t dropped his hyper-lazer scowl, as if expecting some form of reckless objection – though Lewis was fresh out of those. One of Vivi’s arms remained braced across his chest, though her full-bodied leaning had regressed by multitudes. In the beats preluding his lockets dull thrum, the tension began to ebb.

 At last, Lewis broke the silence, “That… would’ve been excessive, yes? He meant well, after all.” The fluorescent light flickered, like the flutter of a heartbeat. “Though not gonna lie,” he hissed, “I was on the fence about socking him.”

 Vivi smacked her head against his chest and gave a muffled scream. You could have not said anything!

 “It was getting a strong debate. I mean, he shot me like four times.”

 “It was fifteen— Wait, I missed that.” Mystery released Arthur’s shirt, and he nearly toppled forward. “Okay. I’m…. I wanna understand, Lew. You and me, and Vivi, we have to talk about this. I don’t want you to do this.”

 Vivi brought her gaze up to Lewis. “What? Wait… what is he talking about?” It dawned on her the next second, who could possibly be deserving of a nasty visit. “Artie,” she groaned, “C’mon….”

 “Not helping,” he growled.

 “Fine,” Lewis grated, ember eyes flashing. “Have it your way.”

 Arthur glared, unconvinced. “Lew.”

 “Give me the benefit of the doubt,” Lewis beseeched. Without jeopardizing his gaze, he brought a hand up and touched the locket. “I didn’t really believe further involvement on my part was necessary. I’m just… I need some time to think. To… get a grip.”

 “Like literally,” Arthur huffed. He cleared his throat and tottered back, when Vivi delivered a scathing glare of her own. “Fine! Done. I’ll sleep better knowing I didn’t have a hand in someone else’s ultimately demise.” He gave Lewis a sharp look, before spinning away.

 Lewis stood to the side, gazing off as if he didn’t know what to do now or where to relocate. Vivi pointed a finger, directly into his bleached skull face – warning. His glower did deepen, as she left him to collect the bags left at the threshold.

 “Vivi,” his voice was distorted, echoey. “I’m heading back down to look around. When you get the chance, would you come meet me?”

 A note of shock crossed Arthur’s features, but upon the direct request the alarm faded. Vivi handed over the bags.

 “Sure,” she replied. She plucked Galahad up and set him on the couch, beside Arthur. To Arthur, she whispered, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

 “You both are making me so nervous.”

 “I won’t be gone long.” She kissed Arthur on the forehead, and set another bag of drinks beside him. “Try and relax, please?”

 Arthur took a breath and sighed. “I’ll give you three, before I start losin’ my mind.” He snared Galahad, before he could begin chewing at the supplies.

 Before leaving, she charged Mystery with looking after Arthur. She wasn’t confident Arthur was fully out of the woods yet, despite Lewis’ assurance.

 The workspace of the garage seemed infinitely more barren and silent, once all the excitement had aired out completely. Uncle Lance would’ve under normal circumstance shut down the lights through the entire building, save for the upper floor. As she crossed the floor, she was almost afraid the place was utterly abandoned. Not that this would matter to her, but Arthur’s distress was cause for concern. The argument between he and Lewis was nearly lost on her, but given the day it didn’t take much to deduce her living friends hesitation.

 When she rounded the sportscar, Vivi uttered a squeak of relief. “I thought maybe you’d already taken off.”

 Lewis actually maintained his solidity and rotated his skull, then his shoulders, but only a margin. “No. I was thinking.” He was examining the space beside the toolcart, where they located the bag of Arthur’s crafts. A number of orbs bobbed around Lewis, while he contemplated.

 “Personally, I would prefer you go after this guy,” she admitted. She stepped up alongside Lewis, and gave the area a brief but mortal search. “But what would that solve?” Vivi wasn’t certain if he was aware the living guise was not restored yet, or if his focus was out of whack.

 “Not a lot, I suppose,” he uttered, voice rustling. “I might head over to your apartment, and rest there for a bit.”

 She meant to say, ‘You don’t have to, unless you want’. But what came out was, “I don’t think you should.”

 “I’ll be well enough. So will Art,” Lewis replied. His skull adjusted, lifting a little higher than anticipated above his crisp white collar. “He and I… well, you saw.” There was something else indistinct to that tone, but it was choppy and a trial to translate. “I’ve never seen him so mad before. Not even on a botched assignment.”

 Arthur had many fears, both grand or miniscule threats to his personal being. There were methods to supersede the private terrors which confronted him.

 “You gunna be all right?” she posed, while reaching out to his hand. But stopped herself.

 “The concern is appreciated, though I don’t think… well, I wouldn’t be in any peril.” Lewis turned fully to Vivi and set his hands on either of her shoulders, he leaned down and set the upper edge of his jaw against her bangs. An endearing skeleton kiss.

 Vivi couldn’t help but giggle. “We’ll come by and check on you in the morning.” As Lewis backed away, his shape and color drained out beneath the blazing illumination of the lamps above.

 “By then, we should have cooled down.” With a surge of embers, Lewis vanished entirely. His words continued to ring out, however, “No dejes Arthur to worry. He can do with taking better care of himself, for a change.”

 Uncertain if Lewis was still present or not, Vivi went ahead and left the area. She called, “I’ll remind him, like usual. It’s a task easier said than done.” The atmosphere was completely palpable, when Lewis abandoned the area completely. Likely due to the anticipation, the sensation of being observed from afar evaporated. She had her suspicions, but she wanted to take Lewis’ word on the matter.

 The lights too emptied out of the open airspace of the work floor, when she snapped the switches off. Her course from the entry corridor and to the ascending steps was very lonely, her perception becoming constrained with each set of lamps clicked off. A penetrating silence moved through her, while an overbearing draft kneaded her muscles. Her hand traced the wall with her ascent, each step calculated, cautious should Galahad have made his way down the steps on the behest of his most favorite person.

 When she reached the private workroom, she found Arthur already fast asleep. That was good, she reckoned. Both for his bruised body, and the emotional expulsion. Arthur was entirely out cold, his good arm curled beneath his cheek and the muscles in his face relaxed – she could scarcely make out his breathing, until she closed in further. Nestled against his neck, a small ball of puff and metal.

 Across Arthur’s folded legs lay Mystery, his bright eyes observed Vivi as she approached. On the ground beside the couch, rested a few crumpled wrappers of junk food and an open can of coffee drink; the caffeine no match to physical or mental exhaustion.

 “Tomorrow might not be better than today,” Vivi hummed. She took a rumpled blanket from the couches back and lay it around her friends. “But it’ll deliver us further away. The only constant is that days are relentless, whether we want them or not. Take us on a journey, and though we never can return to once ways.”

 She climbed onto the couch, close beside Mystery so she could lean over and scratch his neck. “There’s a place awaiting us, ready to receive the person we became. Indifferent to the changes, next year only wants to see us arrive. Scars aside, hurt and disappointment, blessings all the same. When we arrive, there will be no resentment. Celebrate who we are, and mourn the loss of who we once were. There is no turning back, and no regret, if our steps are steadfast. Survival is an artform, and I’m a masterful composer. The colors I use on my canvas will never dull. No matter how far we travel down the road, at my core I am complete.

 Mystery arched his head up and licked at her hand.

 “If I wasn’t, my world would crumble. Without you, the bridges fail. And the peril will never end, without you. Without you, there’s no place like home. No where to go. Without you I’d lose my way, caught up in the shadows of long-lost days.”

 In the stillness of the small workroom, Vivi drifted off into a deep slumber. Perhaps assisted, perhaps not. One aspect was for certain, as it became a certainty that Vivi was well and asleep, the light of the room doused completely. The door creaked on its hinges, as an imposing silhouette eased back trailing a rose tinged vapor of light.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Benzaiten Steel and the Case of Mistaken Identity

Ben has a very awkward morning on the Carte Blanche...

Just a fun little scene from a happier, better universe where Ben is alive and happy and committing intergalactic crimes with his brother and their new family.

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment over on Ao3!

---

Contrary to popular belief, there were a lot of differences between the Steel Twins.

Sure, there was the obvious stuff like the hairstyle and the general disposition, how you could tell which one you’d bumped into on any given day by whether they were smiling or scowling. There was the dress sense and the scars and the tattoos that didn’t match, except for the one. And, of course, the different number of eyes.

But Benten had always thought it was the smaller differences, the ones nobody noticed, that mattered. That made them Juno and Benzaiten, not just the Steel Twins. Not that he resented being seen as one of a matched set, of course not. It was wonderful to work with Juno on the Carte Blanche, to live in the same space as him again and see him every day, tired in the mornings and working furiously into the evenings, to sit with him and have meals as a family with the rest of their crew. To always have him in arms reach, to show him a funny video on his comms or hang off his shoulders as they stood together. To use their nearly but not identical faces in their work, making people believe there was only one of them and seeing their faces when it all fell into place.

Benten knew how it felt to lose his brother and he never wanted to go back to that.

Still, it was nice to have their own individual quirks even if they went unnoticed. Like this, like how Benten was always the early riser while Juno would stay in bed as long as decent society allowed him. He’d gotten used to it as a kid; the three buses he had to take to his dance class had meant getting up just before sunrise six days out of seven. Juno’s hobbies, which were what Ben charitably called his obsessions, his research or his work meant he stayed up late buried in files and data, seeing patterns in it that no one else would, with one eye or two. Often when they were teenagers, he’d be up and about to head out just as Juno was dragging his carcass to bed.

That had led to an intimate familiarity with another difference, how each twin took his coffee.

Benten had the kitchen of the Carte Blanche to himself, the SimSun lights just kicking into gear. Soon the ship would come to life, the noises of some mechanical fix going on from the cargo bay as Jet began his first task of the day, Buddy humming to herself as she sat in her cabin and made the impossible possible, the clatter of Vespa sharpening tools in the med bay either to hurt or to heal, the hammering of fingers on keys as Rita worked at her comms, over the too loud chatter of her stream. And Ransom...well, Ransom doing whatever he did on a morning with his usual eerie silence. All that would come but for now it was quiet, just the sound of his bare feet sticking to the tiles as he moved around and the song he was whistling.

Today was going to be a good day, Benten told himself triumphantly. They were back in charted space which meant he could video call Mick, hearing his boyfriend’s voice and seeing his beautiful, ridiculous grin for the first time in weeks. The thousands of miles between them would shrink to the width of a comms screen and everything would feel better.

And it would start with coffee. He did feel a little pang of guilt at only making two cups, one for him and one for Juno, but it was hard to break traditions that were decades old. He’d always left one waiting for his brother in their crappy little Oldtown kitchen, for when he’d reluctantly follow him into consciousness. He’d always wanted the first thing Juno knew when he woke up was that someone was looking out for him. And to drink some coffee because he probably looked like shit.

Juno liked to pretend he was the toughest, meanest lady around, making Benten wonder if anyone else knew he took his coffee with three sugars and enough cream to make it barely a few shades above white. He mixed in each spoonful of freeze dried coffee and powdered, stasis milk carefully, though it would never taste like the real stuff you got planetside. There was a lot about long haul space travel that sucked. The food was ninety percent of it.

Still, it was hot and sweet and prickling with caffeine, in the mug Rita had painted herself with ‘world’s best boss’ printed on the side, and Benten knew his brother would really appreciate it. It would make him smile in that rough, crooked way he did, the smile that didn’t come out very often but Ben wished it would. People deserved to see it.

He stopped whistling as he balanced the mugs in his hands, trying really hard not to slop any over the sides. Sure the cleaning bots would take care of any spills but Benten had always felt mean about giving them any work to do. The kitchen door slid shut behind him, the mechanism not quite what it had been when the ship was new and making more noise than it should. Juno’s room wasn’t far, none of them had spread out much from the others even with all the rooms to choose from. He should only be a few doors down.  

But as Ben moved past the bathroom door, he heard the sound of running water and his brother’s unmistakable rough voice, singing as he showered. Ben grinned to himself, pausing a moment to listen while Juno butchered a peppy, upbeat dance number that had come on the radio the other day. He had a good voice, though he’d never admit it, this just wasn’t his vibe. Still, he sang it cheerily and Ben could imagine him bouncing on the balls of his feet and swaying his hips in time to the beat as he soaped his hair.

Why was he up so early? What had him in such a good mood? Ben wondered briefly before realising he didn’t care all that much. What mattered was Juno smiling, singing, dancing, it didn’t matter why. Clearly, life on the Carte Blanche was doing him good, shaking him out of the dark place he’d been in ever since he’d lost the eye, regained it and lost it again. Just as Ben had hoped when he’d agreed to come with his brother and live as an interplanetary thief.

He had to take a few deep breaths so he didn’t cry then and there, just hearing his brother doing something as simply alive as singing in the shower.

Benten kept walking, thinking he would just leave Juno’s coffee in his room for him to come back to. And then maybe he’d ask him to play video games or watch a stream or ask if he could work on the stuff for their next job in his room. Anything just to be near him and see the light back on in his eye, to know for sure that he’d really got his brother back.

Benzaiten was still lost in his own thoughts as he approached the bunk Juno had claimed as his own, the one with the glitter covered sign that read ‘Mister Steel’s Room’ in Rita’s handwriting, the same as the ones she’d made for all of them on their first day aboard. He was so distracted, he couldn’t even be startled when the door opened before he was anywhere near it.

Or when Ransom stepped through, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of boxer shorts that covered very little and suggested very heavily what they did cover. That and a shirt of Juno’s that Ben recognised immediately, oversized so the neck draped to leave one shoulder bare. A shoulder covered in dark, mouth shaped shadows.

Ben stopped dead, eyes snapping wide. Every time he’d seen Ransom before now, he’d been perfectly made up and poised to the point of near absurdity, in his sleek, expensive outfits and coiffed hair and sharp smile. He’d been practically scared of the guy, not least because of how Juno reacted to him and wouldn’t say why, no matter how many times Benten tried to steer the conversation that way to find out more.

Now he wished he knew less.

Ben opened his mouth but couldn’t get any sound out, he was too stunned at the realisation that Ransom was actually human and not a perfectly styled doll of some kind. So Ransom just yawned, exactly like a cat would right down to the way he smacked his tongue after, and blinked, eyes useless with sleep and without his glasses.

“I thought you were showering, dear heart,” he mumbled, his slick accent muddied and rougher than it ever seemed.

And then, before Ben could make any kind of protest, Ransom closed the distance between them and kissed him languidly, hand slipping around his waist to grab a handful of...something that erased any doubt Ben had been clinging to as to what this man was doing in his brother’s bedroom.

Instantly, Ben froze solid, eyes wide with the kind of panic only rabbits facing down the headlights of oncoming cars and people in this exact situation could experience. A heartbeat later, Ransom did the exact same, unfortunately leaving him in that position for a handful of agonsing, painful seconds. When he finally jumped back, he looked very, very awake. In fact, he looked like he might never sleep again.

“So…” Ben cleared his throat, grimacing, “You’re sleeping with my brother, huh?”

Ransom’s blush was fearsome, more than a master thief’s really should be, “I...my sincerest apologies, Benzaiten, I was only...um, your brother...I…of you have any concerns about his...um, his virtue-”

Ben could have screamed cutting across him quickly, “I really do not want to hear the slightest thing about my brother’s virtue. Just...give him this,” he thrust the coffee at Ransom, “And never speak of this again. To him but especially to me. Agreed?”

Ransom took a deep breath, taking the coffee and hiking the shirt up to his neck, like that would erase the hickeys from existence, “Agreed.”

Eventually Benzaiten would realise he was happy about this. He would recontextualise a hundred glances between him and Ransom, he would learn to read the emotion in Juno’s voice whenever he talked about him, what was masked in the intensity of it. He would realise that finally someone loved Juno exactly how he deserved to be loved.

But for now, he was going to lock his door, call his boyfriend and scream into a pillow and wish with all his heart that more people would learn to see the differences between him and Juno.

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Heat of the Moment | Word Count: 2743 | Rating: Explicit (18+!!!)

Pairing: John Marston (aka Handsome) x female reader

Tags: public sex, modern au | PART 1 of 2

Title pic by @the-neigh-sayer 💙

You sigh as you reach the bus stop. Just like the last couple of days, there's already a bunch of people waiting. Together with today's weather, even your flimsy summer dress won't do you any good. Packed with people, the bus will turn into a hellhole of bad smells and hot, unbreathable air.

When the bus arrives, you squeeze in with the rest of the waiting people. The few left seats are quickly taken, and you stay by the door, at least glad that you stand next to a pole to hold on to. The last thing you want is to lose your balance and be helplessly pressed against other people's hot bodies.

[[MORE]]

More travelers trickle in over the next two stops, and when the bus holds for the third time, there's some commotion behind you as a whole group of people is heading for the door. With the number of people shoved into the bus already, there's no space to let them pass, so you do the sensible thing and get off to let them out.

The woman in front gives you a thankful nod, but the following people don't care very much. They spill onto the street in front of you while others already push forward to get on the bus. Trying to make room, you back away too much and have a hard time getting in range of the doors.

"Excuse me, I need to get back on," you grunt, a little panic creeping into your voice. You can't afford to be late for work, and the next bus is 30 minutes out.

Pushing forward more forcefully than you usually would, you make it back to the door when it begins to close. "No, wait!" you shout, although you already see yourself walking through the blistering heat and getting yelled at by your boss for the millionth time.

Only seconds before the doors shut, a hand reaches into the space left, and the safety mechanism reacts, opening the doors again. The same hand reaches for you then.

"Come on, get on," a raspy voice says with some urgency, and you grab the stranger's hand. 

He pulls you into the bus, and you can't help but fall against him before the doors close behind you. Somehow he manages to take a step back to give you some room, and you hold on to the pole near the door.

"Thank you. I thought I'd be late for work again," you sigh before finally looking up at the stranger.

You're glad that you already thanked him since you wouldn't be able to say another word. The guy in front of you is extremely hot, not only due to the temperature. You're caught in his steel-gray eyes, and although one side of his face holds some scars, you can't get over how attractive he is.

"No problem," he says, "would be a shame for you to wait when you're the only person with a brain on here."

An older guy looks over with furrowed brows, but when the stranger fixes a mean stare at him, he turns around without saying anything. You wish you knew something else to say, but the stranger stays quiet as well. For the next few stops, you do a little dance where both of you move past each other to let other people on and off the bus until the stranger carefully tips your shoulder.

"That's my stop," he says, and you make yourself as small as possible so he can squeeze around you.

"Have a nice day," you say quickly when he's outside.

The doors close, but he looks back at you and reaches up to his head, doing a little wave as if he's tipping his hat. You think about him for the remainder of your ride, and when you constantly have to move out of the way, you realize how much the stranger shielded you from the people around you. It's a shame that you won't see him again.

-------

The next day is just as hot and the bus just as full. This time, you position yourself more carefully, though. You stay away from the entrance and find yourself a nice corner so you at least can't be surrounded. A little breeze comes through the open window, and your thoughts drift as the bus rolls on. You focus on nothing in particular, but then you spot the stranger at the other end of the bus, close by the door.

You do your best not to stare, but his mere presence makes you nervous. If he's on the bus two days in a row, there's a chance he'll be here every day. You couldn't stop thinking about him the day before, but you didn't have much to go on. Now you can watch him without him even noticing.

He's wearing a button-down shirt with so many buttons open that he might as well go without it. There's some dark hair peeking out on his chest, and his collarbones are so pronounced that you have the urge to nibble on them.

Although he's tall and narrow in the hips, he's got broad shoulders, and you remember how huge his hand was compared to yours when he pulled you onto the bus. His shorts hug him nicely, and you find yourself fantasizing about a way to lift the shirt and get a better look at him below the waist.

You're so occupied with ogling him that you forget to look away, and suddenly he turns his head, meeting your gaze. You see recognition hitting his face, and he smiles before giving you a small nod. You smile as well, trying to act casual, but your insides catch fire. You don't understand how the guy can be so goddamn attractive, even despite the scars. 

For the lack of a name, you began to think of him as Handsome the day before, and the way he smiles cements that name. As a decent human being, he looks away again, forcing you to do the same. Still, you can't help but sneak peeks at him, and once in a while, he does the same.

You begin to think that it's no accident on his part. He has to turn a little to even meet your gaze, and then he holds your eyes for a moment before looking away again. If you weren't so dense when it comes to social interactions, you might think he's flirting with you. When his stop comes around, he looks at you and does the same goodbye with his hand as the day before, only leaving the bus after giving you another smile.

Of course, you think about Handsome the rest of the day, and whenever work doesn't hold your attention completely, you come up with scenarios that might have you speak to him again.

The next day, you don't even care how many people get on the bus. You position yourself like the day before, watching the door. This time you see Handsome right as he gets on, and he might feel you staring because he finds you just as fast, smiling again. 

Today, he's wearing a somewhat torn band shirt that clings to his body, and since it's shorter than the shirt from the day before, you have a chance to check out his lower half a lot better. You thank an older lady who squeezes past him, forcing him to turn around to sidestep her. You unashamedly stare at his ass, and he's lucky you're not in range for a pinch.

You sigh so profoundly at the thought that the woman next to you gives you a weird look, but you can't really care. Handsome turns back around and looks over, and like the day before, you play this game of looking back and forth until he gets off the bus. In fact, you play this game for the rest of the week. 

You're beyond happy to find that Handsome does take the bus each day, and your days become a series of staring at him to remember every detail on his face and body, so you can think about him for the rest of the day. You're even tempted to take the bus on the weekend to see if he's there but manage to hold yourself back.

On Monday, you put a little more effort into your appearance than usual, and when you get on the bus, you go against your better judgment and stay by the door. As soon as it opens at Handsome's stop, your eyes are on him, and he smiles as he gets on.

While the other people squeeze farther in, he stays closeby and reaches for the same pole you're holding on to. "Hey," he says, barely audible in that scratchy voice of his, and a shiver tickles down your spine.

"Hey," you counter, not sure what else to say.

Handsome doesn't push for a conversation, though. He looks around the way he usually does while you're in a world of pain. You didn't think your plan all the way through. It's one thing to flirt with Handsome from a distance, but now he's right there. 

He's wearing another half-open shirt, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. He comes even closer whenever he has to make room for someone, cloaking you in a cloud of a subtle deodorant and something else that seems to be just him. You're more and more tempted to bury your face in his chest and stay there for the rest of the ride.

Caught up in the sensations, you don't watch yourself enough, and when the bus comes to a sudden halt, you fall forward. Out of instinct, you hold up your hand and end up putting it flat on Handsome's chest. He doesn't waver for a second, and although his skin is soft, you feel like leaning against a rock. 

"I'm sorry," you say, but it takes you a whole battle with yourself to take your hand away from him.

"Don't worry about it," Handsome says, and this time his smile has some more fire. "I don't mind at all."

It sounds like an invitation to touch him again, but although you're tempted as hell, you keep your hands to yourself for the rest of the ride. It's bad enough to be this close. Your body feels hotter from one minute to the next, and you wouldn't mind rubbing yourself against Handsome like a feral cat.

When his stop comes up, he leans in, his voice barely a whisper. "Always a pleasure."

His tone almost has you shiver, and you barely manage to answer. "Likewise."

He fake taps his non-existing hat, and this time he winks at you before getting out, leaving you with butterflies in your stomach. If you keep going like this, you might just die from a heat stroke or heart attack.

The next day, the bus gets so full that you have no chance to stay near the door. You get pushed to the other side of the bus, a foul mood taking hold of you. At Handsome's stop, you don't see him get on and wonder if he's not there today when he suddenly pushes past two other people, getting in your line of sight.

You're heart beats faster at his first smile, and you can't help but look away as heat rises to your cheeks. That night, you had a dream about Handsome. You had no problems with being near him, and after a while, you woke up so aroused that you couldn't fall asleep until you touched yourself to thoughts about the two of you doing the dirty with no restrictions whatsoever.

With the memories flooding your mind, you don't realize how the people around you move, and only when a woman with a stroller pushes in, you back away. A familiar scent enters your nose, and you find yourself right in front of Handsome. Somehow, this position is even worse than the day before. You imagine him putting his arms around you and pulling you close. He could whisper in your ear with that intriguing voice or kiss your neck.

You become so engulfed by the thought that it feels real, and a crazy notion inside of you makes you take another step back. With no more room between you, your ass presses right against Handsome's crotch. You hear a surprised gasp from behind you and feel that he's trying to step away, so you move with him, rolling your hips. You want him to know that it was no accident. Only then do you take a step forward again. After all, you don't want to make him feel uncomfortable.

The seconds tick by, and your heart begins to race. You're sure that you upset him, but then he moves right up to you. His chest presses against your back, and instead of his crotch, you feel his flat hand resting on the outer side of your thigh. You move your hip just a tiny bit, heightening the pressure of his hot hand against your skin. 

Handsome takes the bait. He runs his hand over your ass, and you feel his touch through the thin fabric of your dress. You lean back against him, assuring him that you don't mind, and he loses all inhibitions he might have had.

His hand squeezes the flesh of your ass before he dares to hike up your dress enough to let his hand disappear under it. His fingertips caress the insides of your thighs, and you hold your breath until he runs his fingers over your folds with enough pressure that your underwear might as well not be there. This time it's you who gasps with surprise, and Handsome holds still, waiting for your move.

All you'd have to do is take a step away, but instead, you squeeze your thighs together for a moment before spreading your legs to give him more room. Handsome follows the invitation right away. He runs his fingers back and forth along your folds until you roll your hips ever so slightly. Then, he presses his fingertips to your clit. You can't help but push against him, and when he begins to rub you in small circles, you have to bite your lip to hold in a moan.

You hold on to the pole next to you, your knuckles white from the tight grip. In a panic, you take a look around, but nobody seems to notice what naughty things you and Handsome are up to. You're torn between breaking this off before you embarrass yourself and riding it out till the end. 

Handsome's touch just feels way too good, and you feel his heartbeat against your back. You wonder if he's as horny as you are, but for now, he seems satisfied with pleasuring you. His breath is ghosting over your neck, bringing goosebumps all over your skin, and your nipples rise up, poking at the fabric of your dress. The slight rub doesn't help your situation at all, and with Handsome's constant teasing, your juices begin to flow, soaking your underwear.

It becomes harder and harder to stay quiet. Every touch heightens your arousal, and you can't help imagining what else Handsome could do to you. He sure knows how to make you crazy, and when you roll your hips with more desperation, his fingers speed up, relentlessly driving you over the edge.

You clench your teeth together, holding in your breath and your thighs press together around Handsome's hand as you come, your legs shaking. Taking deep breaths, you close your eyes for a moment, barely able to hold yourself up on the pole.

When you give Handsome's hand free, he caresses your thighs and ass, almost as if he's saying goodbye before taking his hand away completely. He still stays where he is, though, and you're thankful that you can lean against him until you find your way back to reality.

Handsome's stop is coming up, and when you take a step forward to give him free, he leans in, his lips gracing your ear. "Always a pleasure."

A shiver runs down your spine, and you don't find the nerve to say anything, but you still look after him. He gives you the usual goodbye wave and smile, and you have no idea how you're supposed to make it through the day after what just happened.

.... to be continued ....

[baebeyza]

Heya! ~

First of all, thank you for everyone who voted! Didn’t expect 44 people and it sure helped me in places to decide on things and being able to think of more plot :D

Lemme just go through all the questions under the cut:

1. Big or small cast?  Big cast but only caring about few does suit me! If it were a small cast, I’d probably have gone with a plot structure similar to Beast Wars. Like this, I can make the premise more like TFA (the premise is like TFA in a lot of ways btw).

And it does suit me as well to not have to figure out an arc for too many characters, I don’t want this whole thing to be too long. 

2. From which continuity would you like characters? This is a little hard to decipher, but suffice to say, most people want more G1 characters. Beast Wars and Japanese G1 have more votes as well! To Beast Wars: I love Beast Wars and its characters, however, I do not like to draw them. Their designs are cool and it’s not like I can’t draw them, I just prefer not to. So if I were to bring Beast Wars characters into this, I would change their designs for me to feel more comfortable drawing them. On another note, I also don’t like drawing animals (at all) so I’d probably give them a mechanic alt-mode with animal features in their robot mode (like the Breast Force in Victory)

As for Japanese G1, I do have quite a few planned! ~ As for G1 characters which never appear in another show...gotta say, most of those I don’t care for either. Some I do, but most not. Might bring them in somehow, but don’t expect them to have bigger roles. (exceptions exist, like Springer, love me the dude!)

3. Choose a dead Prime who ruled before Optimus! Sentinel won! Did like some of the extra choices as well though, like Prowl. Also noteworthy to me, no one voted for Arcee xD Guess no one wanted her dead.

4. Choose an Optimus Prime squad! So, for this I wanted to pick the two most voted guys and girls! And coincidentally, those happen to be the most of voted of them all! For guys, we have Jazz (not surprised by this) and Hot Rod, and for the girls, Elita and Arcee.

Guess that’ll be the squad.

Also, note here: A few people voted Ratchet as a custom answer and do not fret! He will be in this! This Optimus squad is simply a little group of Optimus and his close friends, and since I want to have a young Oppy, I want his friends to be in the same age range. On the same note, just because some characters aren’t in the friend group, doesn’t mean they won’t appear at all. Windblade and Jetfire for example are gonna be in this!

5. Choose a Megatron squad! This is about Megatron’s generals btw - characters who aren’t in this group can still appear! (examples are Cyclonus, Megaempress and Sixshot)

And again I want to choose equal part guys and girls, so for the guys, it’s Soundwave (boy getting loved I see), Starscream and Shockwave, and for the ladies, we have Nightbird, Blackarachnia and Strika.

A little note here: Because a friend commented on this I wanna make it clear: Drift/Deadlock will be based on the Aligned version, NOT on the IDW version. I had made it clear in the poll that I don’t like IDW1. (which I guess some people didn’t read, given that Tarn was given as a custom answer)

6. One love is story is planned, want any more?

I feel like I should have specified who the love story is about - It is about Megatron and Ultra Magnus. Big time. As for the answers, yes I can live them all! They don’t contradict each other anyway :D

7. Any ships you wanna see in this? Okay, the tricky stuff - as I said, the main love story is Megatron x Ultra Magnus, so any ship-wish that includes Megatron or Magnus here, sorry, not happening. I mean most don’t care, but for those who do:

- Dratchet: I know it’s an IDW thing, I can still think of something with the versions I have in mind if you still want that. - Windstream: Friends of mine wanted this, and I will try my best to make something nice out of it!

- JazzWave: Gotta see, so far I wouldn’t know how to include it

- Giving Arcee love: Got something nice and sapphic planned for her!

- Optimus/Elita: Again a friend wanted this, and I too would like to see them in a truly romantic light, so I’m going to include it!

- Happy ones, for the bad guys as well: Hell yeah! - Simpatico: I do not have Percy or Brainstorm planned in this

- Hot Rod/Arcee: I had another idea for Arcee, sorry! - Anything with Jazz: Good to know, if I can’t make it work with Soundwave, I’ll try with someone else (Hot Rod perhaps)

- Strika/Lugnut: Why not? Something in the background, as I have no plans for Lugnut - Windscream: Thing is, there are people who had this ship in the “Do not want” question that follows. Personally, I am indifferent to this ship, but since more people don’t want it (and because I have plans for Windstream), I’m going to pass on this. WaveWave: Gonna see how it goes with Jazz!

8. Anything you don’t want? Most people don’t care, which is nice, as for the things people listed: - Sparklings: Never planned them anyway, I want to go for something else to get parent/child dynamics. - Windscream, MegaStar, MegOP: See upwards, not going to happen here, same with DooP, since I wanna go with OpLita - “If functionalism exists, please don’t make the oppressed characters the villains for fighting back”: NO WORRIES, IS NOT PLANNED! Megatron’s backstory has no freedom fighter motive whatsoever. - Manipulative/abusive ships: Not planned - Bumblebee: Good luck, buddy, I didn’t have him planned either! xD - Slash: Tough luck, buddy, this will be one hell of a MagsMegs ride!

- Negativity directed at me: Thanks, pal! I do not wish for that either! :>

ALRIGHT, that would be it!

Again thanks for everyone who voted! I do hope to start with this in the near future and I hope it will be something enjoyable! <3 If there are questions about this, go ahead! <3 I’d be delighted :>

[thespiralgrimoire]

Would you consider posting your thoughts on the Twilight series? Because the bits and pieces I catch on your main are HILARIOUS though maybe it’s just because I find salt hysterical LOL

Oh good grief

Under a read more for my sake if not anyone else’s

The year was 2007. I was 11 year old, in 6th grade, nursing a substantial superiority complex over my classmates, and idolizing the 7th grade girls. This is where my story begins.

Now I won’t get into all the semantics as to why I was such an insufferable little garbage person in middle school, but I will tell you that I was convinced that I was not like other girls. While this proved true, my reasons as to why were completely off the mark in my tweens. Back then, I thought it was because I was smarter, wiser, and more mature than any of the other 6th grade girls in my class.

But not the 7th grade girls. The 7th grade girls were it, man. Nobody was cooler or smarter or more creative than the handful of ladies who were blessed with the patience to put up with my nonsense in middle school. So naturally, when they read Twilight, I read Twilight.

Twilight, if you have the good fortune to not be intimately aware of it by now, is about the Bella Swan, blandest girl in the entire world, moving to a small town to live with her emotionally awkward father, where she meets the Cullens, a clan of vampires who don’t drink human blood, because they’re trying to be morally upright. Her scent is irresistible to one of the vampires, (the only single one among them because the rest are dating each other) named Edward. Edward has the ability to read minds, and Bella is the only person he’s ever met who is immune to this power. I must stress again that she smells so good that he has to physically restrain himself from eating her, and murdering all witnesses. For reasons I can’t really remember now except “because that’s what the books are about”, they fall in love.

Here’s the thing about these books: Even as I was reading them, they gave me the creeps. Something in my little baby mind was vaguely aware that Edward was a messed up motherfucker, and Bella was a one-dimensional stand-in for the reader, and everything interesting in this story was happening on the fringes, facilitated by the far more interesting side characters. There were parts of these books that were uncomfortable to read. There were parts that made me seriously question why these books were so popular. There were parts that made it physically difficult to keep reading. About 3 things happen in the entirety of this series that feels good and satisfying, and none of them are things that the author, who I will derogatorily refer to as Smeyer, meant to be satisfying.

Two things kept me reading these books. The first was, obviously, the 7th grade girls, and my other friends in other grades who quickly caught the hype wave.

The second. Was the fact. That the writing style of these books, despite being the modem for a story that is absurd at best and a giant, flaming, stinking dumpster fire of bad takes, racism, and sexism at worst, is HYPNOTIC. A lot of my opinions about this series have changed drastically over the years, but this is one that I was acutely aware of even as I was reading these books. No matter how stupid or frustrating or repulsive the things that Smeyer is writing are, her writing style will not let you put the story down once you’re invested. And since I was reading these for social clout, I was invested on page 1. I want to believe that this was a trick played on my young mind, but after reading the first chapter of Midnight Sun (the newly released book that is literally just Twilight from Edward’s POV instead of Bella’s), I can confirm that this woman’s style is genuinely Like That. I enjoyed maybe 6 sentences of the 15-page chapter and I am still frothing at the mouth to read more.

So now that I’ve justified why I subjected myself to this shit in the first place, let’s get to some feelings about it.

Edward is a CREEP. He knows this. His family knows this. His love rival knows this. The only person who does not know this, rendering the fact completely inconsequential to the events of the story, is Bella. I’m not really willing to talk about how Edward is such a disgusting model for what young girls should expect out of a partner that there was discourse for MONTHS over Fifty Shades of Grey, but.... Edward is such a disgusting model for what young girls should expect out of a partner that Fifty Shades of Grey exists. It’s literally Twilight fanfiction. Fact check me. I wish I was making this up.

Bella is, as I said before, a cardboard cutout of a human being. The book is from her point of view, and includes copious amounts of her thoughts, and yet it’s still clear that she has absolutely no personality. She is supposed to be your Jane Everywoman, and yet there is not a single relatable thing about her. Her three personality traits are Brown Eyes, Clumsy (but not in a way that matters often), and Likes Edward. That’s it. This girl has nothing going on, which only draws more attenton to the fact that literally everyone else in the story has a rich and interesting backstory. But they’re side characters and this is about Stale White Bread Bella over here, so go fuck yourself if you want more information on Rosalie using her vampire abilities to get revenge on her fiance and his buddies, who assaulted her to the point of near death, or Alice, who sees the future and spent a good chunk of her life in an asylum, or Jasper, who was a Union soldier fighting the Civil War which was ALSO the vampire war???? Fuck off with that shit, this is about Bella.

But you know who the best characters are? The werewolves. But not REAL werewolves. These are Native Americans whose initial transformation is triggered by the proximity of the vampires, because vampires once terrorized their people and now this ability to turn to wolves is hereditary to protect themselves. The fact that these fellas are not REAL werewolves, and that there are real lycanthropes of lore, is mentioned in passing in the last book and never mentioned by anyone ever again.

One of these wolves is Jacob, Bella’s childhood friend and, for the first two books, an absolute sweetheart. Just a big goofball who’s a couple years younger than Bella, and all he wants is the best for her. Real wholesome shit. When Edward leaves her because he thinks that she’s too attached (SHE IS),  Jacob literally talks Bella back from the brink. The wolf pack, and the Native American tribe, welcome her as one of them. They’re adorable. I can’t stress enough that they would have also been an excellent candidate for the focal point of this shitshow.

But it doesn’t last. Edward does some real dumb shit in Italy and Bella has to go rescue him, which tips off the Vampire Illuminati that Edward was trying to get killed by (i.e. the real dumb shit). They don’t like that Bella, a human, knows about them, and demands that she be turned. Edward’s family is divided on this. Eventually they decide that they got time because the Vampire Illuminati are ancient and don’t have a good enough sense of time to hold them accountable immediately.

So Bella is fine and Edward is fine and everybody is back in the same town and they’re dating again and literally everyone in the town is like Bella what the FUCK. Nobody likes Edward because they think he’s no good for Bella. They are written like the bad buys. Jacob especially, becomes a huge asshole. Because he decides that he’s in love with Bella now. Because werewolves can imprint on people, which is just a sloppy soul mate mechanic used for absolute evil in this story. He wants to fight Edward over her. Edward is chomping at the bit to throw down, but pretends to be the bigger person even though he’s just as big an asshole about all this as Jacob is. This is as misogynist as it sounds. From this point on Jacob is now also a creep.

Oh, but it gets worse!

I gotta talk about the last book in the series now, Breaking Dawn. Because this shit was so awful that it made me regret, instantaneously, ever second I spent enjoying Twilight.

Bella and Edward get married after they graduate high school because Edward is a religious virgin and Bella is HORNY. They go on their honeymoon. Bella gets pregnant. This is Not Something That Is Supposed To Happen.

Smeyer tells us WHY this happened post-canon. Edward, the virgin, has never nutted. Because of this, he still has living sperm in his balls. So when he boffed Bella, his 80-year-old sperm made it count. I wish I was making this up, y’all. I’m tearing up thinking about it.

Bella is now pregnant with a half-vampire baby that is destroying her body from the inside out. It is growing at an exponential rate. She’s eight months along after three weeks. Edward can hear its thoughts. It loves Bella. Bella has to drink blood or die. Jacob is like What the Fuck. I am also, pretty thoroughly like What the Fuck. A couple members of the Cullen family are, very quietly, like What the Fuck.

Queue the most forced and ineffectual pro-life discourse you’ve ever read in your life.

All is well and good until it’s not. Baby suddenly wants to get out of Bella RIGHT NOW IMMEDIATELY and thrashes so violently that it shatters every bone in her body between her ribs and her femurs. Edward has to rip her uterus open with his teeth. Baby is out. It has a full mouth of teeth. It bites Bella. Edward whips out several syringes full of his own saliva and injects them into Bella all over to make her change into a vampire. This is all written in disgusting graphic detail that still makes my skin crawl to think about. I cannot fathom why Smeyer was not made to tone this scene down.

So it takes a few days for Bella to change into a vampire, during which time the Cullens (and Jacob) have to look after her hellspawn of a daughter. Jacob decides that he must kill her, because she basically killed Bella. But--- surprise! He wasn’t in love with Bella! He was in love with the eggs in her womb-- particularly this one egg that is now a baby! No more crush on Bella! No more beef with Edward! He’s just in love with a newborn infant. I am, at this point, wondering in my little 12 year old mind, how this was allowed to be published.

Bella wakes up a vampire, and in her first display of rational thought through the entire series, does not like this. Don’t worry though, that’s quickly cancelled out by her naming her baby daughter Renesmee.

Renesmee is clearly supposed to be a sweet and gifted little angel that you’re meant to love, but frankly, all I can picture is the Chucky doll but quieter. She does not talk much, because she has the ability to share thoughts by touching people’s faces. She also grows super fast. In a few days she’s toddler age. Nobody knows what the fuck is going on and nobody has time to worry about it because the vampire Illuminati found out about this (a vampire friend of the family snitched) and they’re coming to fuck up the whole family.

There is a reason why they want to do this but it’s stupid and frankly I’m not going to explain it.

So the vampires mobilize. They call all their vampire friends because their plan is just to fight the thousands-years-old vampire Illuminati over this horrible child. For some reason dozens of vampires agree to this. They’re all smitten by Resume I guess.

So the illuminati comes, the family tells them that Ramune isn’t the problem that they think she is, and they leave.

That’s it. That’s the climax.

And then everyone gets their off-putting happily ever after: Bella and Edward can now fuck as much as they want because neither of them can die. Bella abandons her human life without so much as a second glance. Resonate will physically be an adult by the time she’s 7, which means that Jacob can start fucking her then. Bella’s dad sort of knows what’s going on, but doesn’t. For some ungodly reason I don’t make a bonfire out of these books.

You may notice, if you have any knowledge of Twilight, that there are whole plots that I didn’t talk about. That’s because I’ve surely forgotten things. While I read these books with what I can only describe as a manic fervor in my youth, I could never bring myself to reread them. On God, I tried. Multiple times in the last decade I have pulled my box set, hard covered Twilight books off my shelf, and opened them up. But I never even make it through the first chapter before I am so put off that I have to put them back. The plots are flimsy. The main characters are made of sand. The secondary characters are treated like garbage. The lore is disturbing.

And yet as soon as I heard that Midnight Sun was coming out, I knew that I must read it. I’ve made it through the first chapter. I do not know when and how I will make it through the next, but I know, for little middle schooler Theo’s sake, that I must.

Twilight? Horrible. Twilight Fandom? Geniuses.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[embalmerandphotographer]

Do you have any hcs on Fiona Gilman and her interactions with the other survivors?

Ghost here! Oh I absolutely do. Fiona is the survivor I play most often after Aesop and I love her! Not just her skill, I also find her backstory very intriguing and have spent a lot of time talking to Greed about it, as is our way.

Okay so... First a warning or two:

1. This contains some spoilers for her deduction lines and birthday letter, so skip this one if you don't want to see that.

2. I'll freely admit that I love to push everything in a horror direction and this does of course also apply to the mega-evolved kiter herself.

Getting that out of the way...

I think it's clear that Fiona knew about and implied to have been drawn to Lakeside Village, where there was a cult religion worshiping a lake deity that was probably Hasur. We know the villagers sacrificed "livestock" to the their god by throwing them into the lake in exchange for their prayers being answered. We know Fiona was drawn to seek out occult mysteries, and that she has a philosophy of following where her gods lead her, taking the actions she believes they call on her to take. We also know the village is now abandoned, and letters later sent to villagers (see the Dancer's recent birthday letter) weren't answered. We also know that Fiona gained some pretty impressive magical powers at some point, ones she didn't have growing up.

So, Fiona went to the village, either believing herself drawn there or because of what she'd heard about the lake cult, or both. I think she, a very attractive and definitely driven if not also somewhat cunning young woman, was able to join the cult and become close to or even join its secretive inner circle, the one in charge of the actual summoning and sacrifices. 

And Ms. Fiona Gilman had a very big wish she wanted granted, a deep prayer she had no doubt been holding close most of her life.

I think Fiona wanted to be special. Powerful. Part of the magical world. And she wanted to be follow the call of her gods, to be able to pass through the solid reality of this world into the spiritual one she always wanted but never had access to as a child. 

And I think she that she got her wish. And that she sacrificed the entire population of Lakeside Village to the lake and to Hasur to get it. Consider that the villagers were asking for small things, and paying in blood sacrifice and the slaughter of livestock for even that. And who and what Fiona became is very much not the anxious, unhappy, and apparently seeming unexceptional person she was implied to have been before breaking away from her mother.

If you consider the survivor's abilities separate from how they're balanced by the game mechanics, Fiona is one of the most powerful of the survivors, if not the most powerful. Along with Patricia and Eli, she had actual magical abilities before coming to the manor*. And because of my take on her, I think that like Aesop, she'd killed enough people that she could have been (and might still one day be) a hunter instead of a survivor... but that’s a post for another day.

So! That's my HC for her backstory. You also asked about her interactions with the others.

First off, while I obviously think she's a sort of amoral-evil person on a grand scale, I think Fiona is probably perfectly nice and even quite charismatic on an individual basis. Kind of weird still, because she's the priestess of a cult, but charming and easy to get along with in spite of this. And while I do think Fiona is capable of being manipulative to get what she wants, I also think she doesn't think of her actions as evil or intentionally do harm. Even her drowning a whole village of people in a lake could have been framed, for her, as following her god's commands. Maybe she thought that after so many sacrifices, Hastur wouldn't be bound to the lake anymore, and she might even have been right about that.

(Btw this, in my mind, is one of the most dangerous types of person when they're amoral. Someone so very likable is also so much harder to criticize, to question, or even to think ill of.)

So, I think the survivors get along with her fine for the most part. I don't think any of them know about what she did (with maybe one exception), and that they take her at face value as another member of their strange, unwilling team.

Now... She's casually friendly with pretty much all the survivors, with a few exceptions, but that she might not have any very close connections at the manor. I think she has a mean-girls style friendship with Vera, and that’s her closest friend. Also she and Patricia have long, technical conversations about magic from time to time, but Patricia is deeply uninterested in getting cursed more/again and steers clear of whatever it is the Priestess is up to spiritually. Any of the survivors who are attracted to pretty ladies and susceptible to getting crushes probably do have mild to moderate crushes on her (Kevin, Vera, Freddy, Martha, Emily, William, Emma, and certainly others although I haven't thought through it too much). Also, for some reason I headcanon that Luca specifically Just Thinks She's Neat, because she has a fascinating ability that challenges his view of a scientific reality, and because they're both feral and he can vibe with that.

Aesop is completely, almost hilariously immune to her charisma and views her neutrally- a competent coworker with a hang up on one of the hunters that's really not his place to comment on. 

On the other hand, I think Emily and Martha don't think much of her intelligence due to her spirituality/gods, and Emma just quietly doesn't get closely involved with Fiona outside of matches because she while she may be unhinged she has good instincts. Poor Andrew is absolutely terrified of her like the good Catholic boy he is. And she does unnerve a few of the other survivors but not in a way that they can quite put their finger on, so they dismiss it. 

And then there's Eli. I've understood Eli's backstory to imply that he's from the Roman Empire, so way further back in the timeline than most of the others, who were take from eras closer to the World Wars. And Eli is linked to Fiona, but we don't know how. They have similar eye themes (Fiona's keys/portals have eyes on them and Eli's blindfold/owl are related to sight), but they can't have know each other when they were alive, and we don't hear anything about the lake cult being involved in Eli’s life or his future seeing. Fiona is implied to have served and still be following Hastur, but the same can't be said for Eli as far as I know.

I don't think Eli dislikes Fiona. They might even be friends in a way, or sort of colleagues. Certainly there aren't many other people they can talk to about magic, and they do share some kind of connection from outside the manor. But I think Eli has very mixed feeling about her, partly because he knows that mystical powers come with costs.

And I have a specific, wildly extrapolated headcanon about them. I don't think Eli was part of a cult dedicated to Hastur that existed long before Fiona was ever born. I think his own powers were given to him, in part, to stop things like what Fiona did in Lakeside Village from ever happening. To contain gods of chaos and protect the balance of the world. He might even have had visions of what happened, either with the Lakeside cult or with the manor games or both, and if so he just wasn't able to stop it, being too far away in time until he was pulled into the timeless pocket dimension the manor apparently exists in. (How interesting then for him to become trapped with living proof that what he saw and would have tired to prevent had already come to pass?)

Anyway! Those are my headcanons for Fiona, or what I have time to write down tonight. 

Closing thoughts:

-I did also find another little bit of interesting trivia: part of Eli's Chinese name originally translated to Gilman. We also know reincarnation is a theme for him. Who knows what the manor game is about, after all?

-I also think it's EXTREMELY funny that Fiona claims to have not come to the manor after being called by a letter, but instead to have followed "a spirit" or one of her gods to the manor. Because if it's at all true, Ms. Gilman *broke into the manor*, either at the behest of her god (Hastur) or because she was following him. She broke in. Can she get out out? Does she just not want to? I have questions!!! Ms. Gilman what is your deal!!)

*(Servais, honey, I appreciate you, but we don't know if you had real magic or just excellent illusionism skills before the manor; I also think it's safe to say that Mike's juggling wasn't magical until the manor got ahold of him either, and so on with Vera, Aesop, etc.)