#it's just that you have to read everything he says about mumbo with the acknowledgement that his grief

[quaranmine]

firewatch au is an interesting story because mumbo is such an omnipresent non-character. it doesn't matter if i characterize him correctly or not, because his character isn't ever present to exert change in the story. the only thing that does matter is grian's rosy, absence-defined ideals about who his best friend was. every single thing we learn about mumbo is filtered through like 12 different layers of love and grief and denial until he's on a pedestal so high nobody can see the truth. his character is almost solely defined by what someone else says about him.

in doing this, grian also inadvertantly strips away all the little mistakes and mishaps that are part of mumbo's agency and part of him being a real person until he's perfect. and all this idolization ends up making it worse for grian in the end, because he actively avoids engaging in any theories that suggest mumbo might have made a mistake or gone astray. there's clear dissonance between reality—grian knows mumbo got lost and is searching for him—and the way grian lashes out at anyone who suggests something that clashes with the perfect ideal of mumbo in his head, including getting lost. mumbo should be a character in his own story, but grian won't let him be.

instead he wraps his desire to find mumbo into a weird sort of side quest where he's just as interested in finding someone else to blame as he is finding mumbo. he spends the same amount of time trying to figure out exactly where it all went wrong during the search as he does actually searching for mumbo—even after he knows the general area mumbo was last in! it's a puzzle and he can't put anything to rest until he solves it. he's trying to force logic into everything so he can cope with it. because if he doesn't find someone or something to blame, then he has to face the reality that sometimes things just don't make sense. if it makes sense, he can solve it and fix it. if it doesn't make sense...then he just has to live with it, and he doesn't think he can.

[aangarchy]

https://www.tumblr.com/the-badger-mole/728723354757054464/how-would-you-improve-aangs-writing what are your thoughts??

So i'm not gonna keep reading this post bc it is tagged anti aang, anti kataang and a bunch of other tags i have personally blocked bc i do not like seeing posts that are actively hating on my favorite characters. Idk why you chose to send me something that is anti aang, when i am clearly an aang positive blog. Surely you're just trying to antagonize me.

I did read the first paragraph and let me tell you, boy is that blogger wrong. The question they were asked is how would you change the show's writing.

"In a word...accountability.

Aang, despite his own personal losses, never seems to grasp the gravity of the war. Season 1 would be more or less the same, but season 2 would open with him grappling with his part in the siege of the North. He would acknowledge that he was part of the reason a lot of people died that day, and it would lead into him confronting somethings about his duty, and eventually make him take his powers as the Avatar more seriously."

This is verbatim what happens in the show. The literal first episode of season 2, Aang has nightmares about him in the Avatar State. He hates feeling out of control, he's terrified of what he could do, how much damage he could cause. That's why when general Fong offers to help him master the Avatar State, Aang agrees. Fong also manipulated him, showing him wounded soldiers to tap into his empathy and get him to agree. Aang at this point understands the gravity of the war. He saw it first hand at the North Pole. Even at the seige of the north itself, Aang takes accountability for the state of the world before the battle even starts: "I wasn't there when the fire nation attacked the air temples. I'm gonna make a difference this time." Also: "he would acknowledge he was part of the reason a lot of people died that day" what at the battle of the north pole?? If anyone is responsible for the amount of death in that battle (which we don't have actual numbers of bc this is a kid's show, we know of One official death and that's Yue) it's the Fire Nation. Aang was on the defensive and fused with the Ocean Spirit while in the Avatar State. Why would he have to acknowledge or take accountability for that?

The rest of the post i just scanned over, but it was a whole lot of mumbo jumbo about Aang not deserving Katara, changing the writing so Katara would not reciprocate Aang's feelings (lol) and saying Aang should have to "work" for the Lion Turtle, as in like actively trying to find it i guess instead of it showing up like some sort of jesus?

The problem with the whole lion turtle thing is in Aang's time according to the wiki, lion turtles are supposed to be extinct. The one Aang comes across is the last one. There is no way Aang could have known that this 10.000yr old (probably older) creature was alive and willing to grant him the power of energy bending. The lion turtle came to find Aang by itself. It looked for Aang and lured him onto his back, to take Aang to the place of the final battle, and to give him the spiritual guidance he needed. Again idk how lion turtles work, are they creatures are they spirits, some secret third thing maybe (again, jesus? Idk). But they might be able to feel Aang's unrest about his destiny somehow, since the Avatar is half spirit.

Either way, i personally feel like the lion turtle is less of a deus ex machina than people are making it out to be, since the existence of lion turtles was foreshadowed in book 2, and since Aang did still have to "work" to take Ozai's bending, aka the whole "your own energy needs to be unbendable" which was still nearly Aang's undoing. He still had to fight Ozai mentally in order to overtake him, and that showed the real growth in Aang's character.

The entire post that Anon just linked is basically someone saying "i don't wike it" and changing everything up to make it arguably worse lol. Again, i think the goal was to antagonize me but whatever.

[codenamehazard]

.:Sun Peeks Through:.

Chapter 36: Sun Peeks Through

Hey guys! Sorry again for the long wait. Writer's block is a bitch and a half and with a new job, it's not helping any. That being said, I think I'll have to say that my slower upload speed is gonna be my new norm. But fret not! I haven't abandoned this story and I'll keep writing until the story is done!

Also, might see a familiar face if you've read @one-n-only-cedar's InFAMOUS: Equilibrium! Tell him Caper sent you! But with that being said, let's jump in!

-------

“About fucking time.”

I growl to myself as I leave the Exam room with Dr. Sims. God I hate physicals, just sitting there on the uncomfortable bastard child of a counter and a shrink's couch, answering uncomfortable questions and being poked and prodded. Silver lining is that the doc said I have a clean bill of health, so that’s good.

Ezra’s trying to explain what an Energy Read is and all the mumbo jumbo that goes into it, but I couldn’t really give a rat’s ass about how it works and why, so I’m not really paying attention. Something else, however, does catch my attention. Something much more interesting.

A Blast Core, a damn powerful one at that. I could feel it. The energy coming off of it, I’ve only felt something similar once before when I spied on Kestrel making the purified Core for that damned brickzooka.I could only guess that this is a purified Core too and we were heading straight towards it.

I can feel my teeth begin to itch and my fingers begin to twitch, I can feel my desire start to rise up inside. “Looks like this idiot’s leading you straight to a tasty little power boost.” My thoughts hiss into my head. “Bet you could crack whatever’s housing it and take it, then nuke the place afterwards.”

I do my best to suppress a growl as my logic kicks in. The Amp is still not repaired and if I blew this place skyhigh, I’d be out of a place to live and I was promised sanctuary here. So it’s better to play nice and… Ugh…. “Behave.” At least for now.

Mercifully, something else catches my attention, the muffled sound of two familiar voices. Kestrel and Pangolin. I remember Dove saying that Kes was taking her turn watching over him, so I wasn’t surprised about that… But how they were talking, it was making me curious. Whatever they were going on about sounded serious… Hmmm… Maybe I can get some details from Dr. Sunbeam over here.

“So.” I start, trying not to sound awkward. “I heard from Mako that you popped the question to Crow. How’s everything been going so far with the prenuptials?” Ezra’s face beams like a lovestruck goof as he plays with the ring on his finger. “Everything’s going great so far. We’re still in the early stages of planning, but as of right now, it’s been smooth sailing.” I let out a chuckle, trying not to let the sting of memories get in the way.

“You must be one lucky son of a bitch with the way you’re smiling.” I point out, Ezra lets out a chuckle before nodding. “Yeah, I am. She’s saved so many lives, we’ve even worked together on a few cases and I fall in love with her all over again when I watch her work her magic.” He gets a dreamy look in his eyes and I try to swallow back a bitter sting in my throat as I remember how I used to talk about Trish. Beaming with pride and love. Now’s not the time for pity parties, Cole.

“I remember that Crow’s in charge of Pangolin’s care, how’s he holding up?” I ask Cupid over here, it seems to snap him out of the love haze for a second before he compouses himself. “Thought about visiting or maybe taking a shift myself and giving the other three a break.” 

“Pangolin’s stable and conscious, but he’s still not out of the woods entirely yet.” Ezra responds, keeping a tone of professionalism. “Can’t have too many visitors right now and Kestrel’s currently visiting, so unfortunately you’ll have to wait a bit before you can pop in.” I nod in acknowledgement, but when has anyone saying “No” ever stopped me before? I’ll just have to find a way to sneak in.

I’m led into a room that's separated into two sections, one that's blocked off by a wall, a window and a door and the other that has what looks like a sitting CT scanner… Or at least that's what I think it is, there’s so much random jerry-rigged nonsense that it makes me question what it actually is!

I look at Ezra as if he's completely wacko, but as I stare, my impulses creep back in as I can feel that tempting Blast Core inside the machine. Now I know I could easily nab it, but I remind myself that I kinda need a place to live so I can get my head on straight.

“I know it looks a bit piecemeal…” Ezra's voice cuts through my thoughts. "But I can assure you it works and it's perfectly safe.” Perfectly safe? Yeah… I’ll believe it when I see it. "All you need to do is sit down and hold a midline charge and the machine will scan the energy and send it to the computer.”

"You know I don't like sitting in cramped spaces, right?” I huff while I begrudgingly start sitting down.

"I’m aware, but I promise I’ll do my best on my end to make sure you're in and out.” Ezra reassures as I sit down, a sour look on my face. "You know… This is a pretty selfless act you're doing… There's still some good in you yet, Cole." I roll my eyes hard.

"Just cut the sappy “good guy" shit and turn the damn machine on.” I snarl. Who does he think he is, my life coach?

The fucking sunbeam chuckles before apologizing and heading into that one room to start the machine. I charge up my electricity like I was prepping for a blast and hold it.

I try to be still, but with the cramped space I can’t help but feel the need to move. The machine turns on and it feels like my senses are in overdrive. The purified Core, I can feel it, it’s against my back. God, I can fucking taste it against my tongue. I can feel how flimsy the machine is. How easy it would fucking be to take this core… Especially since I’m currently holding a charge... I am hanging on by a fucking thread.

I hear the intercom fizzle to life and I hear the doctor’s voice over the speaker. “Hey Cole, I’m not getting a good read from the machine, can you increase your power a little bit? Not by much, just a little more juice and I can get a better reading.” Did he just seriously ask that? Is he a fucking dumbass?! Though come to think of it, while this might be midline for my electric abilities, it’s not my midline full on… Not anymore, not as the Beast.

If Dr. Funshine Bear wants a little more juice? I’ll give him juice. Just a little bit of Beast energy and….

I feel the energy from the Core against my back surge as Beast Energy starts to flow. I damn near SNARL from how good it feels... That is until I feel the metal start heat up. Shit… It’s about to blow!

*KRRRZZZZZTTT!!!*

I’m blasted forward as the energy wave throws me out of the chair, electricity arcing and jumping off of the machine to everything around and smoke filling the room. I think I heard Erza jump from surprise and I can’t help but to laugh. Just about forgot how fun it is to hear people get frightened. As the smoke continues to grow thicker, I lower myself onto the ground to stay out of it. An idea comes to me. Erza probably can’t see me, I dunno if he has a Pulse ability, but from the sounds of it, he’s busy with something else… Perfect time to sneak out.

With the smoke from the machine filling the room and the literal ray of goddamn sunshine busy, I army crawl out of the Scan Room and then start sneaking down the hallways, making sure that I don’t get spotted by any orderlies or anyone else that would want to stop me. Once I was out in the main hallway, I walk with purpose. People don’t tend to question you so long as you’re acting like you got business around here.

I focus on my hearing and follow the sound of the pinecone and the bird.. I got a little bit worried when I didn’t hear them, but soon enough they started chattering again. Thank god the explosion didn’t stop them from continuing with whatever they’re doing.

Once I was near the room where Pangolin was set up, I use a quick Radar Pulse to confirm the occupants before posting up nearby, leaning up against a wall near the door. I pull out my journal to act as a prop, making it look like I was a visitor waiting my turn and passing the time by reading a book.

At first the voices were muffled, but as I focus in, the voices become clearer. “... Pangolin, did you not think I was stressed too? That I wasn’t wondering what the hell went wrong myself?” I hear Kestrel mutter out, I can practically visualize her running her hands down her face, it causes a pang of… Something, but I ignore it for the time being. “Look, I understand you were stressed, but that doesn’t give you the right to use me like a goddamn emotional punching bag!” I hear a bang and a clatter, most likely from a fist slamming down on something.

I hear the woman sigh before continuing on. “Did you know your outburst had me tearing myself down again? Mako and Coyote had to knock sense into me because I was so out of it.” I bite my tongue to keep myself from letting out a growl. I hear Pangolin take a breath and I steel myself so I don’t charge in.

“There…” He begins. God, he sounds like hell. Weak and ragged… A cold chill shoots up my spine remembering what Crow said about those Blink Scorpions and their Corrodium venom. “There’s… No excuse, Kestrel.” He breathes out. “I treated you like shit; over a stupid prototype. I’m… Sorry.”

There was a heavy pause before Pangolin continues. “I’m sorry for… Everything. Pushing you so hard to the point you barely ate or slept. Holding what happened at the mines over your head and using it as justification for questioning your loyalty, even going as far as to insinuate that you lied about your estimation. Implying that the destruction of Firewall was your fault… All of it.” He sighs again and sniffs… Is he… Crying? “It’s been eating at me. I failed you, as a leader, as a friend… As a brother. I failed you by letting my emotions and pride get in the way and treating you horridly. I may hope for your forgiveness, but if you never do, I’ll understand… Hell, if you wanted to leave, I’d understand too.”

I shake my head as I try to process what I just listened to. He… He’s just spilling his guts to the bird. Truly remorseful. Ready and willing to take whatever consequences may come on the chin. Seems like my little talk with him back in Kes’s forge rattled him good.

Kestrel sighs softly and I swear I can hear her shaking her leg to calm down. She clicks her metallic teeth before speaking again. “Pangolin… Thomas… I don’t want to leave the Misfits. Outside of what recently has happened, you guys took me in, treated me like family. We are family.” She murmurs. “And even though we ain’t on good terms right now, I ain’t leaving you.” She sighs softly through her nose before continuing.

“Look… I know that I will forgive you in due time, especially now since you’ve given me an honest-to-god apology, but right now… I can’t forgive you; not yet. I still need to be pissed at you, still process the hurt and heal.” I can hear Pangolin hum in acknowledgement before I turn my thoughts inwards, the last thing I hear before I go into my head is Kestrel thanking Pangolin for saving her life.

I can’t help but to pause, any anger inside cooling. For the first time, I feel like my words actually held weight. I knew Kestrel listened to me when I spoke to her about the nature of forgiveness, but to hear that Pangolin took my words to heart when I ripped into him, even though it was more delayed… I start to feel something that I hardly ever got to feel. I feel that I wasn’t just heard… But truly listened to. They listened.

In this moment of quiet, memories started to seep in. Memories of Zeke, memories of my own journey to forgiving him for betraying me those many years ago. “I don’t call you brother because I like the way it sounds.” His words echo in my head as I remember that day we truly mended the bridge. A familiar dampness stings my eyes. “Shit…!” A voice rattles me out of my thoughts before they can consume me. “SHIT!!” Uh-oh. Looks like the doc’s back and has seen I’ve gone missing, best try to make my way back before he tears the damn hospital down.

Unfortunately for me, as I was making my way back to the room, Erza walks over to me. Stopping me mid-stride and giving me a look that reminded me of my father when he was about to drag me off by my ear to scold me. Great.

“Cole.” Ezra starts, his voice calm, but low. “You and I need to have a serious talk.” “Why.” I hiss out, becoming more agitated by his tone.

“Because I don’t think you know just how dangerous your powers truly are, Cole.”

[words-with-wren]

Hello! I really liked the fic, absolutely amazing. I’m a bit curious if you’ll write a part 2 or something to it? Like finding Scar or so? Ofc you don’t have to. Anyways, I hope you have a day/night/evening!

aaah thank you!!! I honestly wasn't sure if I was going to do a sequel, but then I sat down and did. So just for you, dear anon, enjoy! :)

(cw: There is a tiny bit of derealisation in the fourth paragraph)

Grian can’t focus on his book. Not that he’s ever been much of a reader, but he’s at least pretending at the moment. Because pretending to stare at a book is better than acknowledging where he is right now.

Scar is still motionless. Still, lying in bed with Jellie curled on his chest like he has been for the past week since they found him. Today is the first day Grian brought up the courage to visit.

Everything still feels loud. Big, bright. Ren had given him a spare pair of sunglasses, which helped with the light a little and he was needing them less and less. But there was still so much, and he had only been out of the void for a few weeks.

Sometimes, he wonders if he’s still there and if he slipped into Void Sleep himself. Maybe this all is a dream he came up with to amuse himself. Maybe he never left the clutches of the void.

It feels more real now that they found Scar. He was alone, drifting motionless through the void. Unconscious - when he had been taken by the Void Sleep, Grian wasn’t sure. But he did know Scar had been alone when it had happened.

He stares at his book.

What was it like, drifting alone? Part of him thinks he knows. Part of him doesn’t want to think about how he knows.

He gives up pretending and folds the book closed, not bothering to bookmark his place. It’s not like he’s actually reading it anyway.

Scar’s chest rises and falls slowly, the only sign he’s alive. He’s pale, he’s thin, he looks sickly. Grian knows that he would recover - Mumbo and Impulse are both almost ready to be discharged from the hospital wing of the ship, and Pearl cheerfully teases him from her bed.

Scar would recover, Grian knows. But…

But he still has dreams, dreams of the void and of eyes Watching him and of being alone. So desperately alone. And Mumbo’s eyes are haunted whenever he looks out the window of the ship. And Pearl couldn’t sleep for a week after she woke up without Grian curled beside her. And Impulse still struggles to sleep through the night without jerking awake.

Scar was alone.

Because Grian had let go.

He’d run the scene through his head a thousand times. Scar had drifted, slipping out of reach. And Grian - one hand holding Impulse, one hand holding Mumbo - hadn’t gone after him.

Maybe he could have. Maybe he could have moved everyone closer so Scar could grab on. Maybe he could have thrown the others to Scar, so if someone had to be alone it was Grian. Maybe, maybe maybe maybe.

There were so many ways he could have changed things. So many options and all of them meant Scar didn’t have to be alone.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I let you go. I’m sorry I let you be alone. I’m sorry. I never meant for that to happen.”

“No.”

Grian blinks, looking up, seeing Scar’s eyes open slightly. He smiles weakly, a cheerful, lopsided grin that’s so Scar.

“What?” Grian says softly, reaching forward to grip his friend’s hand.

“You didn’t let go,” Scar says. His voice is hoarse, cracked. Like he hadn’t spoken in a while, like he had screamed until his voice gave out.

“I did,” Grian says, and he squeezes Scar’s hand, trying to fight back tears. “I let go. I watched you float away. I -”

“I let go.”

Scar’s voice is almost too soft to make out, and Grian isn’t sure he heard it correctly.

“Wha-?” he starts, his voice dying in his throat. That doesn’t make any sense. He must have heard wrong.

“I let go,” Scar says again, and this time Grian’s sure that’s what he says. “I -” He closes his eyes, and for a moment, Grian wonders if he’s slipped back into Void Sleep. But his eyes open again, and he flashes that lopsided grin.

“Why?” Grian asks, his voice cracking. Why would Scar let go - why would he drift alone into the Void? Why would he leave?

“I… my fault,” Scar mutters. “Impulse fell asleep and I didn’t want…” He trails off, shutting his eyes again. He’s tired, Grian can tell, but he needs to know so he squeezes Scar’s hand again. “I didn’t want to see everyone go,” Scar whispers. “So I left.”

“I - I could have stopped you,” Grian says, and he’s surprised at how steady his voice is. A large part of him wants to break down and cry, but he did enough of that when they were first rescued.

“No,” Scar whispers. “I’m sorry,” he whispers after. He shuts his eyes, and Grian can see the edges of his face shining with tears. And there’s more meaning to that apology, Grian knows.

He wants to be angry. Maybe he will be, once Scar is in more of a state to be angry at. Maybe he’ll shout and glare and rage about how Scar had left and how he had been so afraid and how they should have stuck together and maybe even how Scar had dropped them in the void to begin with.

But now, Scar is slipping back into sleep, and Grian is too tired for anger. So he squeezes his friend’s hand and just sits.

[doctenwho]

Lured Desire

Hello! Thank you for the prompt! I’m glad you liked Not a Cat Person! Sorry this took a bit, you caught me in the process of moving! This was alot of fun to write when I finally figured out how to make it work! I wrote this three times; it got deleted once, I forgot what I was doing once (that one’ll probably be made into something else), and then there was this copy!

Hopefully it’s close to what you’re looking for! I tried to follow your prompt as best as I could, so I hope you like it!

Summary: Check out the prompt!

Warnings: I don’t think there really is any for this one.

Word Count: 6,524

*Gif is not mine, credit to the creator*

The landing was rough. Unexpected. It was enough to rattle both you and the Doctor to the floor.  

You lost your footing, falling backwards. You managed to catch yourself on the guard rail behind you, but it didn’t really offer much as a way to balance. Not when the whole of the TARDIS was quaking with the rails. The Doctor had been flung from the console as well, but he was quick to get back to his feet and start pushing buttons and pulling levers to try and steady the TARDIS.  

You pulled yourself to your feet, keeping a strong grip on the railing. The TARDIS was still moving, shaking and plummeting. You didn’t need the Doctor to tell you that the TARDIS was crashing, you’d been in enough TARDIS crashes to know when it was happening.  

Besides, even if you did attempt to talk to the Doctor, he probably wouldn’t even acknowledge you. He did really have better things to be worried about if his TARDIS was crash landing. There wasn’t much he could do, but there was always something that could make things easier—less messy.  

It took a few minutes for it to stop feeling like you were dropping right out of the air, and for the floor to stop vibrating and settle on solid ground. The Doctor still didn’t seem pleased, a foul look on his face as his hands shot out to fidget with different parts of the control console.  

You let him work in silence for a few more minutes, waiting in case anything more happened that could result in you falling on your arse, before cautiously making your way towards the man doing stressed circles around the TARDIS console.

“What happened?” you asked as you approached him. He barely paused in his movement. His hands were still busy, like the time and space ship was still falling, which you were quite sure wasn’t the case. He glanced at you briefly, then turned his attention towards the screen he’d pulled away so you couldn’t see. “Did we crash?”

“No,” the Doctor replied sharply without so much as a glance in your direction. “We didn’t crash, we fell. We fell a bit and then settled. There’s a difference, (y/n).”

“Okay,” you frowned, moving closer to him so you could see what he was doing. A crash was a crash to you, falling usually resulted in a crash, but you weren’t about to go against the Doctor when he was already so riled up.  

“We fell, and it doesn’t make sense,” the Doctor muttered, but you weren’t too sure whether he was talking to you, or just speaking aloud to himself, “it doesn’t make sense. How could we have...”

His voice faded off, as he hunched into reading whatever was on the screen. Most of it was in what you assumed was Gallifreyan—something the Doctor would do when he didn’t want you to see what was happening. The TARDIS wouldn’t translate her mother tongue, so it was a failsafe for the man to revert things to Gallifreyan instead of English so you couldn’t read along.  

With him completely distracted by the screen, you moved towards the doors. He didn’t seem to notice you, and if he did, he didn’t bother saying anything. You don’t know what overcame you—you never acted before the Doctor explained more.  

Alien planets, or different time periods weren’t to messed around with. Especially without the Doctor’s incite. You’d never just gone to open a door, but something was pulling you towards the doors. Towards what was on the other side of the doors. Whatever was out there...

The doors opened easily, and you peeked your head out to see what was around you.  

“Uh, Doctor?” You blinked, taking a step out to gaze around you. You could faintly see the man’s head look up from the screen inside the TARDIS out of the corner of your eye, but you were too busy studying your surroundings to really take note of the complete alarm in his eyes.

“(Y/N)!” the Doctor’s voice called, when he finally took notice of your absence. The man’s eyes shot around the room hurriedly, before falling on the open doors. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together, your absence in the TARDIS console room and the open doors.  

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled as he shot around the console to pull you back into the TARDIS. “We’re floating through--” the man froze when he reached the doorway, hand locked on your elbow with a tight, protective grip. He looked around, studying everything with an expression of disbelief and utter confusion, “we’re... we’re landed in a hallway?”

You glanced back to the man holding you securely, though you weren’t so sure it was needed when you were stood on solid ground, before looking back down the hallway.  

It was a long hallway; you couldn’t even see the end of it. It was beige walls, with lines of white trim leading down along the bottom of the floor. The floor was carpeted, a neat tan that matched perfectly with the beige and white trim. There was a line of circular light fixtures spread about five feet apart, leading down the center of the ceiling, all the way down the hallway as far as you could see.

The walls were lined with large photo frames, they were wooden; a sturdy looking wood, that had been carved to the smallest detail, stained dark brown and completely identical all the way along the hallway.

Everything was completely symmetrical, lining up perfectly with an exact copy on the wall across from it.  

The frames were empty, from what you could see where you stood. There was a blank sheet of canvas, or cardstock, or maybe even a blank photograph from a polaroid. None of the frames in your line of sight had anything more than a blank center.

“What is this place?” you question quietly, managing to draw your attention away from the walls and frames before you, to glance back at the Doctor’s attentive eyes sweeping over everything. You couldn’t place any of the emotions crossing the Doctor’s face, it was a flurry of multiple—

“Noh,” the Doctor said softly, more to himself. He took a step back into the TARDIS, pulling you in with him by the grip on your arm. When your feet were back on the solid TARDIS flooring, the Doctor released his grip on you and took another step back, “no, no, no.” He moved quickly back to the console, pulling the screen towards him, “that can’t be right. That’s not... it can’t be right. It’s impossible.”

“What can’t be right?” you asked with a frown, following behind the Doctor. The screen was back to English, but to be fair, you still needed the Doctor to explain things to you. To you, it was all science-y mumbo-jumbo—which was barely a step up from Gallifreyan.  

“We’re in orbit still,” the Doctor pointed out on the screen. “The TARDIS is currently in orbit. We’re not... we can’t be landed. That,” he gestured wildly to the open TARDIS doors, “shouldn’t exist, we’re orbiting space, (Y/N), there aren’t corridors and, and photo frames in space.”

The Doctor stepped away from the control panel, letting out a groan-growl as he carded his fingers through his mussed hair roughly, “it’s impossible. We literally aren’t landed on anything. The TARDIS says we’re still moving, that we’re still orbiting.” The Doctor paced back and forth, anxiously, “what’s out there doesn’t exist—shouldn't exist. We’re caught in orbit, on some sort of platform that doesn’t exist. On something that the TARDIS, who recognizes everything, doesn’t recognize.”

“Are you sure the TARDIS is right?” you asked softly, leaning to look out the doors. The Doctor turned to glare at you, opening his mouth to defend his TARDIS, but you continued before he could, “it looks pretty real to me. I was standing out there before, and it was... it was like walking on carpet. Didn’t feel space-y at all.”

“The TARDIS isn’t wrong.” the Doctor scoffed on the time and space machine’s behalf, “the TARDIS has never been wrong. We’re in orbit, (Y/N). We’re stuck in orbit on... on whatever it is out there. I don’t even know what that is.”

“It seems alright to me,” you really had no idea where that came from, “we should look around.”

“You want to look around a strange space platform that the TARDIS says doesn’t even exist?”

“Uhm... yeah?”  

“And you’re alright?” the Doctor asked carefully, taking a couple steps towards you. You raised a questioning eyebrow and frowned at him. “You’ve been traveling with me for ages and not once have you been so sure about a planet—about anything like this. You’re hesitant about planets I assure you are completely fine, but now, when I tell you something’s not right, you want to explore?”

“Of course I’m alright,” you scoffed, “I just want to explore a bit, what’s so bad about that? It looks like earth, like some kind of weird earth museum, or something. Besides, don’t you want to see what’s at the end of the hallway?”

The Doctor studied you for a moment, then studied the open doors of the TARDIS for a moment as well, before he looked back at you. He really didn’t like disappointing his companions, and he was always up for an adventure.  

The Doctor seemed to be seriously debating it.  

“We really should leave, we don’t know this place, or who or what inhabits it,” he huffed, “but I'm intrigued now. You’re right, I do want to see what’s out there. A hallway in the middle of space, orbiting on its own—and not only that, a hallway that drew in the TARDIS. It’s impossible, completely impossible, but brilliant all the same!”  

The Doctor paused, seeming to shake himself from his excitement, “are you completely sure you want to go? I have no idea what’s out there, or what’s at the end of the hallway. This is here for a reason; space doesn’t just make random corridors for no reason.”

“I’m sure,” you nodded. “I wanna see if any of those frames have any actual pictures. Maybe there’s like stolen earth museum masterpieces—something by Picasso or Van Gogh or somethin’. There’re so many things that’ve gone missing through the years.”

“Aliens stealing earth things?” the Doctor muttered with a frown, “not unheard of. It’s possible.”

There was a moment where neither of you moved, then the Doctor was moving towards the doors. “Right then,” he cleared his throat, he was looking at you as he marched towards the doors, “you need to stay close to me. I don’t know this place, or planet, or whatever it really is. We’re not staying long, just a quick peek around and then we’re leaving, alright?”

The Doctor paused in the doorway, leaning out, to glance around without stepping out of the TARDIS, despite the fact you’d already stepped out once. He frowned, still uncertain before he stepped out. He reached his hand in, an offering to you, which you moved to grab.

“Sounds good to me,” you smiled, gripping his hand and following him out. The TARDIS doors closed behind the two of you, since the Doctor had stepped out too and no one was inside.  

“It looks very earthlike,” you mumbled as the two of you started walking. Slow and hesitant.

“Indeed it does,” the Doctor agreed, “I seriously don’t know what this is, or how it’s doing what it is. Be careful, and stay close.”

“I always am,” you laughed good-naturedly, which drew a small, fond smile from the man.  

The two of you walked for a while. The TARDIS could no longer be seen behind you, but the hallway before you were still going. It was a very long hallway. You’d dropped the Doctor’s hand a while ago, in order to walk closer to the frames and gaze inside to see if you could see any differences between them all.  

He was doing his own studying, watching everything like the frames would jump out at him, which you could understand given what he’d seen and done in his many years of life. He muttered things to himself, and periodically glanced your direction to keep a tab on you.  

It was almost cute how protective the Doctor was of you. How protective he was of his select few companions he’d travel with. The ones he chose out the billions of people on earth.  

The Doctor stopped every few frames to bleep them with his sonic screwdriver, but nothing came up. As far as you, the Doctor and the screwdriver knew, they were just ordinary frames. You could almost see the deep, unsettling confusion clouding the Doctor’s eyes.  

But, you kept walking, almost as if something was pulling you along. Like you were tethered to something and you just had to find it.

----

The Doctor wasn’t sure what to make of this place. Not when neither his TARDIS or his sonic screwdriver could track or source anything regarding it. It simply shouldn’t exist. Some sort of spurious world that he’d never heard of, or seen.  

Something that shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t the right make to even be orbiting like it was, and it certainly shouldn’t have been able to draw the TARDIS in. It was impossible. He couldn’t think of a single way that this could be happening.  

The Doctor followed along a few steps behind (Y/N), who continued on without much thought. It was rather odd that (Y/N) was more excited and adventurous about this strange place than the Doctor was. Maybe because she was had a fresh mind, she still hadn’t completely figured out that things in space couldn’t be trusted.  

There was a difference between being hesitant to jump right into things, and being critical of things before even thinking about taking a step out. Like earlier, when (Y/N) had stepped right out. The Doctor hadn’t even noticed her doing it, too busy trying to figure things out. As far as he’d known, they’d been stuck orbiting space—she could’ve stepped out into nothing. Nothing but space, because that’s what the TARDIS said they were doing.

The Doctor was far older than (Y/N), hundreds and hundreds of years older. He’d seen so much. He’d been trapped so many times. He’d been left with nothing more times than he could count. He’d put his companions in danger way more than he’d even dare to think about. He’d been around for practically forever at this point, and he knew when to be cautious.  

As much as he tried though, he couldn’t figure anything out about this place. It was getting irritating at this point. He was confused, and irritated, and maybe even a bit pissed off that (Y/N) had been so reckless when they’d first arrived.  

The man sighed to himself, drawing his hand through his hair again. He dropped his hands down, stuffing them in his trouser pockets as he followed behind his companion. He didn’t even know how long they’d been wondering about the hallway for, and he was about to make the decision that they’d spent enough time here when he heard it.  

It was soft, like a whisper.  

A collection of soft whispers, faint and unintelligible. Unintelligible, but inviting. Drawing him closer. It was not a language he knew, and the TARDIS hadn’t translated it for him. But he was curious.  

Was there something here? Someone else beside him and his companion?  

The Doctor’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a moment before he looked up and around. It felt like the whispering was coming from everywhere at once. He took a couple more hurried steps, the whispers growing louder until he turned suddenly. He didn’t remember thinking about turning, it just happened. He wasn’t even sure his brain had commanded the action, but when he looked up, he was met with a picture frame.  

This one, unlike the ones across from it, or on either side, had an actual image. It wasn’t a blank frame like the others. And it wasn’t a picture at all. Not really.  

It was moving.  

It was... more like a television show, than a picture.  

He was instantly engrossed in the moving photo.

It was... it was (Y/N). She was in a garden; it was a beautiful garden. There were multiple types of flowers, and it was sunny. It almost made him smile. Her eyes were watering, but she was smiling, holding a bouquet of flowers. She was older than the (Y/N) he was currently with, but it was undeniable that this woman in the photo was his current companion.

She looked good, perfectly fine, but maybe a little sad. He instantly wanted to make her happy again, to jump into the picture and hug her, or give her a kiss on the cheek. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her sad smile.  

It wasn’t terribly sad, she still had the same brightness about her, the one that had attracted him to her in the first place, but she looked as if she were reminiscing an event from prior. Maybe a memory from a passed family member, or something. Remembering happy things, but sad that they weren’t around anymore.  

He wondered for a moment where he was in this picture. He’d never really thought about leaving her, not really. He wanted to hold onto her for as long as he could, but he could understand if he’d needed to leave her behind for whatever reason. He’d had to do the same for all his companions at one point or another.

The thought of his companions growing old and leaving him made him physically ill, but he knew it was bound to happen eventually. How he’d just regenerate and leave them in the dust—continue on with his life when they were aging and dying like the humans they were. He’d always end up alone in the end, as it had been for hundreds of years.  

In the photo, (Y/N) was walking, the flowers cradled in her arms. The path she walked on was days away from being completely overgrown, like it wasn’t travelled much. Where ever she was going, she didn’t go often.  

He waited, watching closely until she paused in the photo, her eyebrows furrowing as a tear trailed down her cheek. The Doctor leaned towards the picture, squinting to see what she was seeing. He wanted to reach out and touch it... touch his companion, but he didn’t.  

In fact, he took a step back in surprise when his eyes landed on what she was now kneeled in front of, the flowers set on the ground before it.  

It was the TARDIS. The blue Public Use Police box parked in that garden. It was covered in overgrown plants, vines reaching up along the paneling of the TARDIS. It didn’t... look much like the TARDIS anymore, old and unused like a real London Telephone box, but to him, it was unmistakably his precious TARDIS.  

(Y/N) was sitting now, knees pulled up to her chest, with her arms wrapped securely around them. Her chin rested on the indent between her knees, and her attention was focused on the TARDIS. Her eyes were sad now, much more so than earlier, and she was crying again. Tears falling from her face and dripping down to the ground beneath her.  

The Doctor didn’t understand for a moment. His TARDIS was there, obviously had been for a while. But he was nowhere to be seen. (Y/N) was visiting his TARDIS, hidden away in a garden and covered by overgrown plants that would’ve taken years to crawl up the length of his little blue box. He’d abandoned his TARDIS?

Then, it clicked.  

He hadn’t abandoned his precious TARDIS intentionally. The answer was literally in this picture; from the overgrown garden, to the TARDIS standing withered and old without him, to the bouquet of flowers placed before his TARDIS, all the way down to the soft tears falling from his companion’s face.  

It was all there.  

He was dead.  

He’d died somehow and left behind his TARDIS, and his companion.  

He was dead.  

He was strangely accepting of this. His companion outliving him for the first time since he’d first picked up a human to travel with him. It was... a nice change of pace. He wasn’t the last one left anymore. He was... gone.  

The last Time-Lord in existence, and he was gone. His whole race put to rest with him. He wasn’t put off by the idea. He almost... liked it. That he wasn’t the one to be losing someone this time. He still felt terrible that his companion was bringing flowers to his, what he assumed was his, resting place with his TARDIS, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad, or upset.

It was almost... freeing. He wanted to touch; to run his fingers across the photo. To place a finger over his companion staring sadly at his TARDIS, or maybe even touch the TARDIS. His hand hovered over the picture, and it almost... rippled like he could just hop right in.

This was a... a desire he hadn’t known he’d had.

The man turned away from the frame abruptly, using all his willpower to draw his hand away and turn away from the picture. He’d almost touched it. Had been close enough to see it ripple. What would’ve happened had he touched the picture?

What would’ve happened had he reached for that desire he’d had hidden within him?

The man whipped out his sonic screwdriver, bleeping the frame he’d just been staring into quickly. For a second, one single second, the screwdriver detected something, but in the next moment, the Doctor was watching the colourful canvas, (Y/N), the garden and the TARDIS included, fade back to the identical blanks surrounding it.  

In a matter of seconds, it was like the photo he’d seen hadn’t existed at all. Like he hadn’t been drawn to a desire he hadn’t realized he had.  

With the picture gone, the Doctor carefully let his fingertips brush along the surface of what had been that picture. Nothing happened, there was no ripple this time. It was like touching any other sheet of canvas.  

It didn’t make sense. It really didn’t make sense. Nothing about this place made any sense.  

“We’ve been here long enough,” the Doctor spoke firmly, suddenly afraid of what this place was capable of. He turned to look down the hallway at his companion, “let’s head--” the man froze, “(Y/N)?”

She was gone. The hallway around him was empty. Nothing but blank picture frames. “(Y/N)?” he called louder, in case she’d continued on while he’d been distracted by the picture. The Doctor turned back the way the two of you had been coming, but you weren’t that way either. “(Y/N)!”

He was sprinting down the hallway before he even realized he was. He needed to get to her before anything else got to her. Before she got hurt, or was put in danger. Or worse, before one of the pictures spoke to her like they had to him.  

He’d barely been able to draw himself away from the photo, a human wouldn’t stand a chance against it. No human would have the willpower to pull away from a desire like the one he’d been shown. And, as much as he cared for (Y/N), she really was no exception to that fact.  

The man ran as fast as he could, passing hundreds of picture frames in just minutes before someone came into view.  

Just as he’d feared, (Y/N) was staring into one of the photo frames, mesmerized by whatever was happening. The Doctor barely managed to stop himself from running into her, as he reached hurriedly for her arms and tried to pull her away from the picture.  

To him, it was blank. It looked no different to any of the other canvases on the walls. He bleeped the canvas with his screwdriver when you barely budged, and to his surprise, he was getting all kinds of feedback from it this time. Something more than a simple photo frame was hung on this wall, and it was quickly drawing his companion in as it had to him.  

He bleeped you as well, frowning thoughtfully at the reading it got off your head. 

“(Y/N),” the Doctor pleaded, taking your hands into his own, “I know it looks ideal, whatever it is you’re seeing, but it’s not real. Please, come back to me, whatever you’re seeing, it’s not there. It doesn’t exist. Don’t touch it, alright? Don’t touch, it’s not safe.”

You made no movements, but you still didn’t draw your attention from the photo. The Doctor chewed his bottom lip, thoughts flying faster and more anxiously than he was sure they ever had. He had to do something. He wasn’t sure what would happen if you touched the picture you were seeing, but he wasn’t about to find out.  

With no other way around it, the man pushed you back carefully, just enough so that he could come between you and the canvas. You didn’t react, eyes wide and unseeing, but so focused on the blank canvas in front of you. The Doctor reached up to cradle your jaw in his hands for a moment, thumbs brushing along your cheeks.

You moved to look around him, back at the picture, to which he gently tightened his hold and directed your gaze back onto him. You didn’t move again after being corrected.  

He drew in a breath, pulling his hands back for a second to see if you’d move (you didn’t) before he lifted his hands and settled his fingertips to your temples. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on accessing you mind. He couldn’t see what you could looking at the picture, but he could through your eyes.

----

You’d lost the Doctor somewhere along the hallway. He’d stopped and... even if you’d wanted to stop and see where he’d gone, or perhaps even wait for him, something inside you directed you along.  

The whispered were calling to you. They’d started a while back, and you’d been following them. You didn’t understand them, but they were inviting. They were calling you over, trying to show you something.  

You followed them, step after step, going exactly where the whispers directed you. Or, maybe you were following they’re volume, since you couldn’t really understand them.  

Everything went quiet suddenly. You glanced around the hallway, before your eyes caught sight of a splash of colour. One of the frames had an actual picture in it.  

You reached up to rub your eyes, in case you were seeing something, since it had been nothing but whites and browns all the way down the hallway, and now suddenly there was this one single picture with colours.  

When you blinked again, the colours were still there. You stepped towards the picture—it was like nothing you’d ever seen before. But... at the same time it was familiar.  

It really wasn’t anything special, a small house with a white picket fence surrounding the property. There houses on either side, ordinary and uniform, but each with personality. A cute little neighborhood.

The closer you looked, the more you could make out. The small windows on the house were full, detailed beyond imagination. But all of them... there was a little you in there.  

One of the windows featured you with a pet—a cat or a dog, you couldn’t really make it. Possibly even a rodent, or a reptile, or something else along the lines. It was hard to see, but you could tell you adored whatever it was.

Another featured you with small children, possibly your own children, but you couldn’t be sure. They were cute, playing on the floor with you, showing you objects and giggling. You’d never really thought much about kids, but it was weird seeing some in the perfect little house the picture had.

One of the other windows was dimly lit, a living room or something in the late hours of the evening. You were cuddled up with someone, a significant other, on the couch, both watching a film, talking and laughing.  

The last window housed you, and your friends and family all sitting together and laughing. The friends and family you had barely even spoken to since meeting the Doctor. The ones who left messages on your answering machine, and invited you out, despite not knowing you were adventuring in Outerspace with a literally alien.

They were all so domestic. So ordinary. It was... normal life. You assumed each window was a different representation of something. A pet, wanting children, a perfect significant other, and to be closer to those you love. It was cute, a cute concept.

You didn’t see the Doctor though. He was nowhere to be seen. He, and the TARDIS. Not so much as a glance at the Doctor.  

The picture changed in the blink of an eye, and you were walking. In the picture. A different scene, the house was gone, and it was just you. You were just... walking down the street. And it looked nice. A relaxing walk. Nothing like exploring an alien planet with the Doctor, but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing.

You passed a blue police box, and barely batted an eyelash. You strolled passed a man sitting on a bench, which, when you looked closer, realized was the Doctor. He made no effort to speak to you, and you breezed right by him like you’d never even met him.  

And... maybe you hadn’t in whatever this picture was showing you. It was hard to imagine never meeting the Doctor, and never seeing the things you’d seen in your travels. But this imagery the picture was supplying... it made it easier to think like that, not that it was really possible.

Everything the picture showed you was normal. Ordinary. It was relaxing. You could just... go for a stroll at any point, or get in the car and visit your friends, or your parents. You could step out of your door without being afraid.  

There were no aliens, or potential death threats, or kidnappings, or strange creatures trying to get you, or to chase you around. You weren’t a part in trying to destroy the universe (unfortunate timing really), and you also weren’t a piece to the solution to said problems. You were just there, one of the regular people down on earth.

You weren’t afraid for your life, or for the Doctor’s life on some strange planet... it was just earth. Normal earth, with normal people and normal activities. Normal everything.

You’d never met the Doctor in these... whatever they were. Possible futures? Alternate universes?

You’d never met him and... your life was normal. You lived a regular life, like everyone else. You weren’t one of the special few the Doctor selected to travel with him and... that didn’t bother you.  

It felt kind of nice actually, to be normal. To not be following the Doctor around on strange planets like a puppy, or to not be fearing for your life in a TARDIS crash landing. As much as you liked the Doctor, and your travels, you wouldn’t be disappointed or upset if... well, if none of it happened. If you’d never met the Doctor at all...

Your life looked like it would’ve been good, great even. Normal. Ordinary. Black and white. Vanilla.  

You’d been in some dangerous situations, had actually thought yourself dead on a couple of occasions. You relied heavily on the Doctor to keep you safe. It was a lot. All of it was. And... it would be nice to have it be calm. The calm after a storm.  

The whispering was back suddenly, louder than ever and urging you to reach up and touch the picture. It was promising things—a perfect life, a family, or a pet, anything your heart desired. It was promising to take away the pain of your traumas, and wipe your mind from all that caused you harm... the Doctor included.  

And you... you couldn’t help but reach up to touch the picture.  

It all sounded wonderful. Ideal, and perfect. A second chance without having to miss the Doctor because, well, you never would’ve met him in this timeline.  

Your hand was hovering by the picture, rippling what you’d thought was a canvas. The whispers were growing louder, urging and begging you to touch. You wanted what it was offering. Something deep inside you wanted to touch the picture, and get the life it had showed you.  

Your fingers got closer, and your mind started getting fuzzy and--

And everything stopped.  

Your hand froze in place and the Doctor’s face came into view. He was blocking the picture; all you could see was his face. And... you could feel his fingers on your face, gentle and careful. The whispers were getting softer, further away.  

“Please,” you heard. It was the Doctor, you thought. You knew his voice. He was pleading, voice tight and nervous, something you’d never heard before. “You can’t go, not yet. Please, it’s not real, (Y/N). You need to come back to me.”

You wanted to tell the Doctor that it looked pretty real to you. That you were so close to forgetting it all, and being normal. So close to a quiet life, without the hassle of a space and time machine, and a regenerating alien.

“I know,” the Doctor interrupted your thoughts as if he’d heard you. His voice was soft, maybe even hurt, “I know it seems perfect, but it’s not real, (Y/N). You need to snap out of it. You’re giving it what it wants, you’re feeding into it... You can’t. Don’t touch it, focus on me, alright? Focus here.”

You focused on the Doctor, on his soft pleads and appraisal. The whispers faded off to nothing and the colours behind the Doctor started fading away too, taking your quiet life away with them.  

It was a sharp shock that really woke you up though. You blinked your eyes shut, an intense stinging from them being open for so long. You fell forwards, your body finally relaxing after being lured away. You never hit the ground though, you fell right into the Doctor, who caught you and held you close. “You’ve done it,” he whispered, “good job, (Y/N).”

“What... what happened?” you asked carefully. You remembered it clearly. The want to be taken away. The need for a normal and quiet life without the Doctor. The pull the canvas had to it. Even the ripping in the supposed canvas. “I almost fell in a canvas.”

The Doctor gave a laugh, not nearly as bright as it usually was. His eyes were sad, and he was holding you longer than he usually did when the two of you escaped danger. “You resisted,” the Doctor replied quietly, “I’m quite proud of you, that’s no easy feat.”

“The picture was luring me in,” you blinked, “what even was that?”

“It... it showed you your deepest desire. One you... may not have known you had—or maybe you did. Whatever it was, was feeding off the dopamine in your subconscious with seeing the desire fulfilled.”

Deepest desire. A quiet life was your deepest desire. Your life without the Doctor was your deepest desire. You felt terrible that that’s what you subconsciously wanted, even though you hadn’t known it.

“Did you see it too?” You asked calmly, looking back at the now blank frame. It was completely gone. No trace left behind of your deepest desire.

The Doctor hesitated for a second. A second longer than he usually did, “no,” he looked down, “I didn’t. It was just a white canvas for me. Only you can see your deepest desire, it’s just a blank canvas for everyone else.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, believing the Doctor’s words, but not really believing him. It sounded completely logical, but Time-Lords were incredible creatures, and you really had no idea whether or not he could actually see. You wished he couldn’t, that he hadn’t seen. You truly do love traveling with the Doctor... it just gets overwhelming at times. And... everyone wishes for a quiet life at some point, right?

“Let’s... let’s get back to the TARDIS. I think this has been enough excitement for the day, eh?”

The walk back was quiet, no whispering, or speaking. The frames on the walls did nothing. All uniform and identical just as when you’d come in. The TARDIS was further back than you remembered, but when you got to her, the Doctor ushered you in quickly.  

You were taking off before you really knew what was happening.  

“Do you think... all those frames had someone’s deepest desire in them?” you asked from where you were stood beside the console. The Doctor gave a shrug, pushing some buttons. He’d been quiet. Quieter than you could ever remember him being.  

“It’s possible,” he answered shortly. “I’d assume yes though. Curious travelers like us are the perfect target for something like this.”

“Oh,” you frowned, “what would’ve... what would’ve happened if you touched the picture?”

The Doctor finally looked over at you, eyes sad, and lips curved down in a frown, “I think it would’ve absorbed you and given you what it promised. It would’ve fed off the dopamine being created like it had been doing, and it would’ve kept you happy in your desire.”

“I’m glad you got me out then,” you replied, looking down at your feet.

“Are you?” the Doctor asked without looking up from the console. You were sure he was purposely trying not to look at you. He was hurt. Now, without the lure of the picture, you could tell. He was sad, and hurting.  

You frowned, thinking of something to say. You really didn’t believe he hadn’t seen your desire. Not with the whole kicked puppy look. He’d obviously seen something, and it hurt you that you made him feel like this.  

“Did you hear the whispers?”

“I did.” He gave a nod, still not really looking up from the console. You were flying again, away from this orbital pull, “I saw my desire, but I was able to pull myself out of it.”

“What was your desire?” You asked quietly.  

The doctor turned to you with a sad smile, “it wasn’t important,” he brushed off. 

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down to hide his frown, and when he looked up once more, all traces of emotions were gone. All the sadness, all the fear. His frown replaced by a bright grin. 

“Right then!” He chirped like the two of you hadn’t almost been lured into alien picture frames, “how about a visit to earth, huh? We can... let’s go meet your friends!”

<><><><><>

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and please feel free to leave me prompts! They’re very welcome, and very appreciated!

[vibeguardian]

Tears and Sea Water

[it’s been a while and it’s not in the more “official” storyline but I wrote a lil something for @gridoc ‘s pirate au again!

huge thanks to @tunaships for beta reading this for me

set a little after Grian and NPG join the crew after an encounter with an old friend that rocked a lot of relationships in the crew]

Splish splash

The surface of the water is broken by tears violently hitting it. They fall, one after the other, surprisingly in sync with the tune the werewolf is mumbling to himself. 

Splish splash

The moonlight shines against the medallion in his hands. Gifted to him from his lovers; a promise to never leave each other. The tears spilled on it glisten in the low lighting. 

Splish splash

A wolf's howl echoes through the night. The sad undertone of it is one that could even make a rock weep. Despite the tiredness that darkened his under eyes, the man could not find rest in sleep. Sadly, a siren's lullaby has no effect on themselves. 

More tears drop on the surface of the sea, mixing in with the already salted water. They keep rolling down Ren's cheeks. Leaking from the corners of his eyes as he’s given up all effort to try and stop them. They pass the dark circles under them, some gathering up in puddles before they keep moving towards his chin. Streaming down his neck and soaking his shirt. He tries to cheer himself up, bringing old, nice memories to his mind. He quickly gives up on that as they have no benefit. All include either his brother... or them. All three of those people probably can’t bear to face him. Doc is not very harsh with him. The others are though. They refuse to talk to him, sometimes even refusing to acknowledge his existence. Doc occasionally spares an empathetic glance his way, as he too, is not in a good place. The captain of the ship gets most of the blame, yet Ren feels it all resting on his shoulders. ‘Traitor’ to all sea creatures. ‘Monster’ is the judgement he can clearly read in their eyes when they look at him. No doubt. No second chance. He often finds himself agreeing and he doesn’t know if that makes the situation more or less tragic. Sometimes he wishes this whole thing would've ended so much sooner. He tries to push the thought away, but it keeps creeping at the back of his mind. Maybe he could’ve rested if TFC hadn't found him that night. Now he can't. All because a siren can only charm others with their song. 

Stress says he's not behaving like he used to. She insists he needs to explain and apologize to them, but he doesn't think they'll ever wanna see him again. Listening to what he has to say is a whole other thing. Everything on the ship feels like too much. The tension in the air is ready to snap, as fragile as the finest porcelain. Even Grian - the person who managed to ignore him being a ‘filthy pirate’ while in the navy - now looks down on him. He usually escaped when they found land. He found comfort in their embrace. Now there's nothing he can do. He found some sympathy in False and Etho. They let him pour his heart out sometimes late at night when it was only the three of them and the sea listening. The atmosphere wasn’t any lighter, anyway, and they preferred that to doing chores in the suffocating silence. These were a few of the rare times he felt his chest lighten. Sometimes they even joked to lighten the situation, then, a smile would tug at the corner of his lips. It never became complete. By the next morning, more bad thoughts swarmed his head and lay more weight on his chest. There was nothing he could do, and no one he could turn to. All that just because a siren cannot put a spell on themselves.

Half-heartedly, Ren wipes away his tears. Is there really a point in doing so? They’ll be back in mere seconds anyway. The werewolf turns to lay on his back, letting the waves splash against his feet, dangling from the rock he’s sitting on. He turns his gaze to the sky, wanting to observe the stars. He knits his brows together in confusion. Tonight the sky is supposed to be clear - yet, the stars are all hidden away under a blanket of clouds. They are dark and seemed just as angry at him as he is at himself. Ren contemplates getting up and running back to the ship. His first thought is to visit them, in the house they share while at the island. That’s what he’d normally do, especially now that it was getting late, not wanting to worry them. Today he couldn’t really do such a thing... could he? They’d just kick him out with no second thought. 

The clouds seem to be getting darker and darker with each second that passes, matching his thoughts. The lycan settles on not getting up at all. He’d spent nights in the rain or outside before. He’ll be just fine. Right? Wrong. As more clouds gather, rain starts falling. It starts out as a light drizzle, but soon enough it is pouring, thunder tearing the sky in two. Ren, startled by the loud sound, as he had almost fallen asleep, jolts upright. The thing that saddens the werewolf the most is that his first thought isn’t to find shelter - it is anger at being awoken. He had just managed to rest, and now he‘s unable to do so again. He desperately wants to pretend the nightmares that haunt his dreams do not exist but at the end of the day; a siren cannot lull themselves to sleep. 

Ren brings Doc’s voice to his mind, scolding him after he’d spent a night in the rain when they were little. He imagines that his brother will have a quite similar face when Ren returns to the ship drenched today, too. Ren hangs his head as he speeds up his steps as he walks to the docks. As the rain starts becoming a full on storm and more thunder booms he curses himself for not having grabbed a cloak on the way out. On one hand, how could he have predicted that? But on the other hand… such storms were quite frequent, oftentimes violently hitting the area. Sometimes Ren truly did wonder why they chose this one. A loud voice calling out his name snaps him out of his thoughts. It is difficult, yet he could make it out as Iskall’s, despite the loud noises of the thunder and the rain. He curses under his breath, really not wanting to see them but he hears them call out again and feels a hand grab his shoulder. 

“REN! Where the hell are you going?” they scream, trying to be heard over the crackling of the thunder. 

“Where could I be going? Back to the ship, obviously!” the lycan yells back, getting kind of annoyed. 

“You can’t be walking out here like this! It’s dangerous! Come in.”

Ren is glad the rain is camouflaging his tears as he looks at his… they aren’t really his partner  anymore, are they? “No, I’ll just go back. I don’t want to be any more of an annoyance than I’ve already been so far.” He turns around to leave but Iskall grabs his shoulder again. 

“Ren. Don’t lie to me. I know you don’t like thunder; just come on in. Mumbo’s made soup.” They hand him a spare cloak they were holding, and they give him a reassuring smile as the pair makes their way back home. 

Ren isn’t sure if he’s allowed to call it home again, not yet. Nevertheless, he finally feels a little better, and oh, god, it’s been such a long time. The fire is lit and the three of them enjoy the meal Mumbo had prepared earlier. At first, they stay silent... but as they slowly start talking again, cracking jokes and teasing Mumbo for his cooking skills, Ren feels like this can be fixed. Maybe not any time soon, maybe not immediately, and maybe only after more time has passed. One day, though, it will happen - because even though not all wounds heal, most do. For the first time in quite a while, Ren doesn’t feel too scared to fall asleep. He had often tried to forget about all of this, and let his soul rest. Whatever he tried it was usually just a dead end, because a siren's song has no effect on themselves. 

This night - despite the thunder booming outside - as he drifts to sleep, curled up, even if he wasn’t in their shared bed, wrapped up in blankets and laying next to the fire... he smiles as he does not wish for a lullaby. This siren does not need to be put to sleep tonight. 

[lillithenettix]

Part 4

Part 5/?

With Dallas running off after the other two, Boris didn’t even bother trying to turn around this time. He just continued sitting, passively waiting to see if anyone else is planning on pouncing him or not. At least this time he is prepared. Somewhat.

Read the rest of the fic under the cut!

To be honest, Habit hadn’t talked to Dallas all that much back at the Habitat. But when they did talk, the topic was rarely about something other than art. While Habit was definitely doing art as a hobby, the other man took it more seriously. He knew which colors went together best, how to draw figures from different perspectives, how lighting works, all that mumbo jumbo Habit never really cared to learn.

Habit was always left a bit impressed, thought, at the end of the day he still preferred his comically cartoonish drawings. It was simple, cute, and a great way to express himself when nothing else did the trick.

Thinking back on it, maybe he shouldn’t have expressed himself that much around the habitat with the drawings. The first time he went back to visit the Habitat, some days after the Big Event, to finally shut it down, he realized how creepy some of his doodles were. The blood, the creepy staring, the crying. Frankly, he scared himself with them.

He felt a pressure in his chest, being thankful to Flower Kid for saving him, once again.

While he was still looking off to the side from which Dallas came from, he heard footsteps from his front.

So there are more of his potential future friends still coming! He has to admit, it made him quite happy and hopeful.

In the short second it took him to look at the new person approaching him, his mind went through all the next potential people that could arrive. Thought, honestly, he really doesn’t know which ones have more chances of appearing so he just focused on the then and there. His smile grew in excitement.

As soon as he laid his eyes on the newcomer it dropped. Not in disappointment, anger, or any other emotion than surprise. His mouth was agape, he tried to say something but nothing came out.

He really though he was ready but to see Questionette here left him in awe. He didn’t even think she would’ve understood his letter. She wasn’t even speaking English in the chatroom from what he remembered.

Maybe she took an English crash course in the short time between the group chat and now? It’s the only thing he could think of at the moment. Sure, it might’ve taken him a few years to become fluent in English when his family migrated to the United States, but he will push the slight pang of jealousy down for now, and rather be impressed if that was really the case here.

Or maybe she just got someone to translate it. Who knows.

“Bonjour, flouriste!” She greeted, a small gentle smile on her face, and put something down on the table.

Habit briefly glanced downwards and saw a Hydrangea. It looked freshly picked, the petals dainty and healthy, and a pretty blue colour.

Thank you for understanding.

Huh? Had he remembered the meaning right? He was quite sure he did. But he couldn’t come up with a reason she’d be thankful to him for.

Come on, Boris, think!

He looked back up at her, straight into her eyes, as if that will bring back any forgotten memories. He wanted to remember but he couldn’t.

If she saw his confusion, she didn’t acknowledge. She just leaned both of her elbows onto the table, intertwined her fingers, and laid her head on them, much like Boris had done when patronizing or mocking his Habiticians in the past.

But Questionette still held a gentle smile, no hint of mockery. She just kept looking, not moving a muscle, waiting.

What was she waiting for, thought? An apology?

Well, duh, Boris, you dunce! That’s why you invited them all here!

“…Sorry.”

He wanted to slap myself across his face. Could he have possibly sounded any more unsure and insincere? So hesitant to say it, in only one word, and practically monotone. He wanted to try again.

Before he could fix his mistake, start anew, she looked away. Her smile still present, waiting.

This baffled Boris.

She didn’t seem disappointed or mad at his half-hearted apology. Was she waiting for something else?

Questionette looked back at him, staring at his face as the gears inside his head turned and turned, trying to figure out the puzzle she posed for him.

So much for the whole ‘understanding’ affair. He must seem like a total idiot to her. So far, their interaction has been a disaster from start to finish on his part. His look of shock, his mouth hanging open, not even greeting her back-

Not even greeting her back.

Boris! Where are your manners?

He had to stop himself from blurting out just any old ‘hello’ or ‘hi’ in a rushed panic. He wanted it to seem special. Well, as special as a greeting can get.

Then he remembered one.

“Privjet, prijatelnica!” He blurted out, no hesitance, with the confidence of a car salesman.

It didn’t take him long to start second-guessing himself since the greeting was the very same as the one he initiated conversations with back at the habitat. More specifically, conversations with her.

Questionette gave him no time for regret as her smile grew into one of pure happiness.

She puckered her lips, as much as she could with her wide smile, and sent a kiss flying in his direction.

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

When Questionette arrived to the United States, let’s just say things didn’t go very well for her.

She didn’t really know what she was thinking. Maybe it was her naivete, or maybe her youthful enthusiasm. Disregarding her family’s worries, and her friends’ warnings about the outside world. Only knowing how to speak French, and with a big ambition to make a name for herself in the theatre world, she almost instinctively decided to move to America.

America, the land of the free. America, land of opportunity. And America, the land of English speakers.

Oh, Questionette, what have you gotten yourself into.

So with whatever little money she brough from home, she started traveling, looking for jobs at local theatres. But, unfortunately, it is hard to find a job when you don’t understand your employer and your employer doesn’t understand you.

And all the paperwork. God, the paperwork. It took her so long to fill out anything the government needed from her with help from some equally confused government workers who didn’t understand her.

When searching or traveling she made a quick buck acting as a mime, though she had to admit, that wasn’t her forte. But Americans did love laughing at a random Frenchie trying to not make a fool our of herself on the street, so she had to swallow her pride at times.

Eventually, she became just too tired of everything. Everything was so hard without communication. She didn’t even have enough money to return back to France. To her family. Prove them all right, and admit she just wasn’t up to the task.

Then she started seeing strange flyers everywhere. They didn’t contain a whole bunch of words on them. It was mostly pictures and drawings. There were many variations of the flyers, or at least she assumed as much by looking at the style of the drawings. And they made sense to her.

Something made sense to her. Finally.

It’s been so long since she understood anything in this damn country.

She wanted to go to this place. To this place where you can find your smile again. For free! She had been so happy she could’ve cried.

So she started walking, and she didn’t stop until she arrived on top of that hill with the strange but unique building on it. She grabbed the giant door which she assumed was the entrance and pushed.

It didn’t move. She pushed again. And again.

If pushing wouldn’t solve it, then maybe knocking would. So, she had done just that. Hitting the door a little louder with each knock. She had to admit, she was starting to despair a little.

Eventually her hands started hurting from all the knocking which got progressively more aggressive.

Now, Questionette is by no means a violent person, but damn was she desperate right now. She just wants a little time off, rest for a bit, gather up her strength.

She plopped down on the ground and waited. Someone had to come around eventually. She was confident she understood the flyer correctly. Heck, the last one she found was just some scribbles getting the point across, not a word in sight!

She must’ve been sitting in front of the place for hours. The sun was slowly setting, and it looked beautiful and peaceful. She started nodding off, eyes closing and her mind just wanting to catch some rest when a very, very, tall man appeared in front of her. So many various screws, bolts, and thingamajigs in hand that the pile seemed to be blocking his view.

Wanting to make herself more presentable by dusting off her skirt and straightening her shirt she shot up, only to startle the poor giant, seemingly only noticing her once she was standing at her full height.

All the doodads he was holding fell to the ground, scattering all around them.

“Fu-“ he started but took a deep breath, held it in, and exhaled before continuing, “blin.”

Feeling sorry for making the man drop everything, she quickly rushed to pick everything up. She hoped nothing was broken. Glancing up at the man, she saw him looking at her. Not sure whether he was going to get angry at her or not, she apologized.

“Désolée, c’est ma faute, je ferai attention la prochaine fois.” And she meant it.

It was probably just gibberish to him, but still, better than not saying anything.

But his reaction was unexpected. He smiled with excitement.

“Privjet, prijatelnica,” he started waving at her as if she was an old friend he saw across the street, and not a random stranger that scared a year of his life out of him.

She had to admit, it left her a bit confused. That didn’t sound English. But it sure as hell wasn’t French either. The confusion must have shown on her face.

The man proudly lifted a clenched hand to point at himself with his thumb, still beaming.

“Yevropa!”

Taking a moment to process what he said, she let out a small ‘ah’ when it finally clicked.

Questionette let everything she picked up so far drop back to the ground and imitated his previous movement by pointing at herself.

“L'Europe!”

It might have been a little weird. Two Europeans who didn’t really understand each other yelling ‘Europe’ in their respective languages with the excitement of a six-year-old getting a new toy, but somehow it brought comfort to her.

From that meeting on, things went much smoother. She eventually learned that the place was called the Habitat, and that she arrived a week before the official opening.

Whoops. Well, mistakes tend to happen when you can’t read flyers properly. At least she was the first one to experience the luxury of this free resort.

The tall man, Doctor Habit who she figured out was from Russia, introduced his two employees to her as well. Kamal Bora, the one who worked as the Doctor’s assistant, and Wallus Breadbear, the janitor.

She and Habit didn’t literally understand each other, but she enjoyed his company immensely. It was hard to hate a guy who’d greet her as happily as he did every day, always with the same sentence. It really grew on her. She wanted to look the words up in a dictionary when she got her hands on one.

While the four of them were waiting for more Habiticians to arrive to this happy place, they got to mingle a bit, and it didn’t take Questionette long to start getting close with the two workers as well. Especially the janitor.

Not even a day after they got introduced to eachother, Wallus went and bought the biggest English to French dictionary he could find. She found it sweet that he cared enough to do that. Their conversations were slow and mostly in broken French but with how much time they had on their hands, they managed. Surely enough, feelings started to blossom between them.

But the doctor didn’t like that.

She learned he was a very jealous man. Pulling her away from Wallus at every opportunity, butting in on their conversations, things that went unnoticed by her for some time. At first it was sort of cute how he wanted her attention, but the longer it kept going, the creepier it became.

Then Wallus lost the dictionary they couldn’t find it anywhere. Everyone, excluding the Doctor, helped search for it, Kamal, the newly joined habiticians, as well as herself. Losing the little book was very unpractical for their relationship. So unpractical, in fact, that it began to crumble not long after.

She tried keeping the relationship alive, but it seemed like Wallus didn’t. He became more and more uncomfortable being near her, and she never figured out why. She had some theories, but that’s all they were. Theories.

Eventually, Habit stopped hanging out outside his office.

Then she became lonely again. At least, until the Flower Kid showed up.

Thinking back on it, it wasn’t all bad in the beginning. But when things got good, they got worse again. Which sucked. At least now she’ll have a great story to tell her friends and family back home, whenever she would see them again.

Surprisingly, when she got out of the Habitat, the big woman that hung out on the roof, watching for birds all day, started talking to her. Granted, Questionette didn’t understand a word that came out of the woman’s mouth, but it was still nice.

The woman introduced herself as Borbra Luddington.

In the following months Borbra even helped her learn English. It started with pointing at things and yelling out their name, but eventually she gifted Questionette some used textbooks and workbooks she found online.

When Kamal invited everyone to the chatroom she wanted to surprise everyone with her newly acquired knowledge, but she decided against it. There was a little childish part inside her that wanted to see and get as much praise as possible for learning English. She wanted to surprise them in person. See their faces, their reactions.

And what better opportunity than at the doctor’s… err… florist’s new workplace!

What a surprising change of professions for the man. As for herself, she stuck to theatre. She might not have been the most popular or famous, but she got a few small roles when she auditioned in the recent past. Everyone has to start somewhere.

She had to admit, she did miss Habit. Just a little. She was still hurt by his actions, but when Flower Kid gave her the rundown of everything that happened in the Habitat, he did occupy her mind for a while.

Sorting through her feelings, mulling everything over she figured out that she wanted to forgive him. Maybe because of ‘the good ol’ times’ when he saved her from giving up on the streets, maybe because she felt a tinge of pity for him, or maybe both.

If he really is working towards gaining her forgiveness, she is ready to forgive. Forgive, and finally look up what his greeting meant.

In any case, she had an idea of what to bring him as a sentiment of goodwill.

-------

Yeeeaahhhh, i didn't know how tf to work with a quik-translator so i transformer it into a english-french dictionary in the fic :')

also i apologize to any russians reading this, i try to avoid cyrillic script since the fic is in english

[rendiggitydog]

Base Buddies -1/2

Thunder cracked, interrupting the steady pound of rain on glass. Biting winds coursed through Grian's open base, tousling his hair. He was working on his potato farm, desperate to finish it before the storm got any worse. The dirt was sprayed across the floor, mixing with rainwater into muddy puddles.

Stress had flown by a few hours ago, while the rain was still light, voicing her concerns. "Grian, you 'avent finished your walls outside! You oughtta do that before we get a big storm!"

"It's fine, what are the odds it'll get worse than this?" He laughed, catching a small raindrop in his hand.

Now he laughed, mocking himself. "What are the odds?~" He grumbled and wiped his forehead, streaking mud across it.

It was just a small splash at first, hardly noticeable through the rain. But one splash led to two, and soon water was pouring down the walls like a waterfall. Already Grian's socks were soaked, and he was realizing the dire situation he was in.

He bolted to his chests, scrambling to save the most valuable materials from the elements. Lighting flashed every so often, counting down Grian's window of time.

Arms loaded with shulker boxes, he struggled to spark a firework as the water crawled up his ankles. "Cmon, cmon..."

His mailbox lit green as he burst past it, marking that Mumbo had sent some mail. For a fraction of a second, nostalgia gripped his chest.

All the redstone he and Mumbo spent hours putting together. His precarious piles of chests that Iskall teased him about-the chests only he could navigate. The poultry cave hidden in the basement, secret from all his friends. The Architech meeting room filled with maps, where he and Mumbo had many, many discussions late into the night.

And then he flew away.

Tears mixed with the rain, making it impossible to see. The violent wind tossed him to and fro, nearly sending him into the sea multiple times. Most of the shulker boxes had blown out of his grip, and fell into the water like the raindrops around them.

Simply by instinct, he made his way to the rocket shop, where he took shelter. For a long time, all he could do was sit. The rain made his body and his soul numb. So he sat. Multiple times the droning rain lulled him to sleep, before the thunder woke him up again. Once, it struck the weather vane on top of iTrade, shuddering the ground under his feet.

Slowly, Grian felt a fuzzy feeling growing in his chest. It was warm compared to the rain, and it welcomed him into its embrace...

—

Silence.

There was no drumming of rain, no claps of thunder.

It was disturbing.

It was too bright to open his eyes, but Grian managed to roll over, realizing he was in a bed. What time did he get to bed last night?

"Ah, you're up! Are you alright?" Mumbo's worried voice met his ears, and gentle footsteps.

"Why're you in mah base...?" Grian slurred sleepily.

A pause. "You're in my base Gri. You've been in the rain too long." He nervously chuckled.

Finally Grian pried his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. There was a lot of acacia wood, so he could only assume they were in Mumbo's basement. But wasn't it flooded before?

Mumbo read his thoughts. "I uh, drained this place a while back, in case of an incident like this. Not you passing out! But uh, like the weather bit." He fiddled with a spare lever on the ground.

"Oh nice, thanks." Grian sat up slowly, blinking away the sleep.

"It's no problem at all! But, may I ask, what were you doing in the rocket shop?"

"My..." It all came flooding back. Literally. "My base is flooded. It's all gone." There were no more tears to shed, so he put his head in his hands miserably.

He felt a weight next to him on the bed, and Mumbo's long arms wrapped around him gently. "I'm so sorry." They sat this way in silence for a few minutes. "Would you like to stay here until we can get you settled again?"

Grian tensed. "I'd hate to be a bother.."

Mumbo squeezed Grian tightly, tears gathering in his eyes. "You are never a bother, Gri. Always remember that."

They sat this way for a long time, their breathing in sync. It was peaceful, with no rain pouring on their heads, no hermits flying around to bother them. At some point, Mumbo fell asleep, but was woken up when Grian pulled on the corner of his mustache. "Oi!"

"Sorry," Grian chuckled, smiling for the first time since Mumbo saved him. "I guess you've kinda adopted me, huh?"

Mumbo stuttered. "I- I suppose? That's a strange way to put it, I mean- I mean it's really not that big a deal, we are friends after all-"

Grian just laughed, falling back on the bed. "Oh Mumbo.. So, does this mean I can build myself a little house on your island?"

Mumbo laid back as well, his head hitting the wall with a bump. "Ah, I assumed you would just hang around the base with me! But, if you'd rather have your own space I understand!" Mumbo stumbled over his words in apology.

"Nah, I'll hang out with you! It'd just be fun to build a little cabin to hang out in! You're invited to visit of course."

"Oh I'm glad, I wouldn't want to miss out on the build of the century." Mumbo jabbed.

"Hey! Says you!" Grian elbowed Mumbo's ribs, eliciting a laugh.

"It will be the build of the century, because you're building it."

No response.

"Gri?"

Grian sniffled. "Thanks for everything man, you mean the world to me."

"Anything for you. Now, what blocks will you need for your cabin?"

Grian wiped a stray tear. "A lot of wood, hehe."

Mumbo stood up tall, helping Grian off the bed. "As if I have any wood! You think I keep that silly stuff lying around?"

"Ha! Right, I see how it is."

They bantered all the way up the ladder, not even stopping to acknowledge the rain.

[ariadnelives]

Chapter 4 -- The Drawing Board

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3]

“Okay,” Ariadne said seriously, pushing her wire-frame spectacles up on her nose, “we've had our fun, blown up a spaceship, made a lot of money and helped a lot of people, but now it's time to assassinate a teenager.”

Pilar stood next to a large whiteboard with a multitude of lists and diagrams scrawled on it. “Or at least lay the groundwork to do so. As you can see,” she explained, pointing at one of the lists with a large measuring stick, “the impostor Ariadne has a variety of identifying features that distinguish her from our Ariadne.” The list read as follows:

THE IMPOSTOR ARIADNE

Fourteen or maybe fifteen

White

Blank, evil eyes

White robe

Shoulder-length blonde hair

Dirty Liar

Forced smile

THE REAL ARIADNE

Twenty years old

Black and proud

Beautiful, sparkling eyes

Short, curly black hair

Charming liar

Genuine, pretty smile

“Now, here's the issue,” Ariadne said, “We have no idea where her headquarters is. The cultists are active in every single bio-dome on Mars, and each neighborhood has established a 'Red God Life Center.'”

“The six largest Life Centers,” Pilar picked up the briefing here, “are heavily guarded. The worst part is, they've used a part of our own mythos to justify this.”

Ariadne continued, “Our crew is largely orphans and runaways. Some of the people we're running away from are very bad people. Ship Trap is so well concealed and fortified partially to keep the authorities from finding us, but also to keep the past from coming to look for those of us who've escaped it.”

“According to the literature they've posted on the FTLnet, these six life centers are heavily guarded to provide a safe refuge for anyone seeking it,” Pilar said, wringing her hands uncomfortably. “Our eyes and ears on the ground have told us that when someone goes into the Life Centers, they always take those damn Suffering Tests and come out preaching the Good Word of the Red God, even people who already had deeply held beliefs of their own when they entered the building.”

“We believe they've been using a textbook form of psychological conditioning. They offer a desperate person a safe haven, then convince them that they owe everything to the cult, and if they refuse to submit to the brainwashing …” Ariadne was too uncomfortable to continue.

“… If they refuse to swear their allegiance to the cult, they get kicked back out on the streets to die,” Pilar explained. “The idea is, you get a safe bed and three meals a day as long as you work for their church.”

“That's sick,” Taryn almost retched. “I mean, making people do your bidding just to stay alive?”

“Exactly.” Ariadne touched her nose in agreement. “That's part of why it's so horrifying that she's stealing my name for this. Every single one of you knows that you don't have to serve on my crew. You do anyway because you like helping people and, honestly, piracy is really fun, but you'd always get the bare necessities even if you just sat around all day.”

“Anything short of that would be monstrous,” Pilar said casually, “which is why we're going to kill the leader of the Red God cult and show Mars what we really stand for.”

“The problem,” Ariadne went on, “is that we can never quite figure out which Life Center she's staying at. Media accounts place her at as many as three of them.”

“So she moves from place to place?” Taryn suggested. “I mean, she has to know you're a real person, right? She might be moving around trying to stay secure.”

“I mean, three at the same time,” Ariadne clarified.

“Easy enough to accomplish indoors with a powerful enough hologram projector,” Pilar mused, “Her followers claim she gives off a divine glow. This could mask the fact that she's just a projection.”

“She's also paper-white and platinum-blonde,” Ariadne pointed out. “The same effect could be achieved with a concealed spotlight and a fog machine. A hologram could be disrupted by a stray housefly landing on the crystal.”

“Decoys?” Sweettalk wondered “Three young women, similar body types, with identical hair and clothing would be difficult to tell apart.”

Deathsbane nodded. “That weird ritualistic makeup could mask subtle differences in their facial features. If properly contoured they could look identical.”

Pilar pointed out, “Let's not forget that the last time we encountered one person in multiple places at once, the explanation was 'lifelike android spies controlled by a dictator.' Perhaps Occam's razor isn't the best route to go here.”

“Spacebreather's right,” Ariadne agreed. “The theory that the fake Ariadne is actually three people is the most likely answer, but we can't discount the idea that she's got holographic or robotic duplicates.”

“Is it too ridiculous to believe she's actually a prophet?” Pilar smirked.

Ariadne stopped this train of thought. “Okay, let's not get into supernatural mumbo-jumbo.”

“Is anyone considering the obvious here?” Sweettalk wondered out loud.

Pilar sighed. “If it was obvious, would you need to ask? Just say what you're going to say.”

“We have to consider the possibility that there is no singular 'Fake Ariadne,' and that whoever's doing the sermonizing isn't the ringleader,” Sweettalk pointed out.

“Otra ves no…” Ariadne muttered, and despite the fact that Pilar had been the first one to propose this possibility to Ariadne, her disdain for Sweettalk made her more inclined to dismiss it.

“We've considered that possibility,” Pilar said calmly and in spite of herself, “but there's no credible evidence to suggest the impostor Ariadne is not the head of the Red God cult.”

“Is there any evidence to suggest she is?” Sweettalk asked. Sasha looked impressed at her audacity. “I mean, she's like fifteen, have you ever heard of a fifteen-year-old cult leader?”

Ariadne groaned. “Why can't anyone get off this point? I had my own space station at fifteen! You're only seventeen and you could practice law if you wanted! Deathsbane was one of the best doctors in the system at thirteen! We're surrounded by teenage masterminds; is it so hard to believe the same could be true of one of the bad guys?” Pilar bit her tongue.

“No one's saying it's not possible,” Sweettalk insisted, “but you have to admit, that isn't the best sample size. You and Sasha, well, haven't you considered that you're a little… exceptional?”

Sasha blushed.

“I'm just saying, think of the implications here. If you're running a cult with a prophet who can be in three places at once, does it make sense for two of them to be robotic decoys and one of them to be real, or does it make more sense to have three robots?”

Ariadne sighed. “Three robots.”

“Same goes for holograms. If she could pass off holographic decoys as herself, would it make sense for her to ever appear in person?”

“She'd probably remain behind the scenes, but that doesn't prove she's not—”

“See, it proves that she's not necessarily what she appears to be. Holograms and robots can be customized to look like whatever the designer wants. She might look like the 15-year-old we've been hearing about, but she could look like anyone.”

“And what about your theory?” Pilar's jaw tightened. “You posit three body doubles, made up to look identical.”

“Yes, three girls, all of them smokescreens. Three teenage girls in a cult, all about the same age, with a clear physical resemblance? This is going to sound indelicate, but most cult leaders are adult men, and many of them take multiple wives. It's plausible that he could have had three daughters born to three different women, all within a few months. With enough makeup, half-sisters could look similar enough to pass off as the same person.”

“That's sick,” Taryn said, frowning.

“Sicker than holding people's food and shelter hostage to get them to promote your cult door to door?” Sweettalk replied.

“That's enough,” Pilar snapped. “Your theory is plausible, sure, but only if we accept multiple things we have no reason to accept.”

“I'm just saying—”

“I know, and I acknowledge what you're saying is a possibility, but it doesn't change anything.” Pilar seemed to be making an effort to calm down, torn slightly between her distaste for Sweettalk and the fact that this was literally the exact theory she'd been trying to propose for the past few days. “Whoever the ringleader is, we've still got to take them out.”

“It does change something,” Sasha said somewhat quietly.

“How's that?” Pilar asked, some of the steam settling.

“If it's real teenage girls, then they're brainwashing children, and that doesn't seem like the kind of thing we stand for.”

“Deathsbane is right,” Ariadne announced. “I hate to admit it… I really hate to admit it, but if the girl on stage isn't the ringleader, and I'm not conceding that, then she's a victim, and it's our job to help her.”

“So what's the plan?” Taryn piped up. “We can't just go in there guns blazing.”

Pilar looked thoughtful, and said “I think our best bet is to start with basic reconnaissance and information gathering. Station teams in safehouses near the Life Centers, one in each bio-dome. When canvassers come by, we invite them in, act genuinely curious. We need to learn as much as we can about their organization—”

“—things that we can't learn from their propaganda or their official pitch,” Ariadne cut in. “We have to get them to go off-book and tell us something their bosses don't want us to know without blowing our cover.”

“Okay,” Pilar said, “Standard stakeout procedures, observe and report. I'll be sending your squad assignments and mission specs to you by lights-out tonight. Take the evening to pack a bag of essentials. This shouldn't be a long stay.”

“I hope it's not too short,” Sasha said. “It's been a while since I've been back to the mainland, it'll be nice to stand on solid ground again.”

“You're not going,” Pilar said. “We need to leave a skeleton crew in command, you and a handful of my best Whiptails, in case the station comes under attack; you're the only one who knows the station as well as Ariadne and me.”

“I assumed you two would be manning the command center, you know, stay in the loop and all that.” Sasha sighed.

“We have our own mission,” Pilar explained. “We'll be paying a visit to La Pesadilla, see if she can shed any light on this.”

“I thought you hated La Pesadilla.” Sasha tried in vain to hide her exasperation with her sister.

“Everyone hates La Pesadilla,” Spacebreather replied. “She's a blackmailing lowlife who doesn't care about anything but lining her own pockets, but the upshot of that is that if there's something shady going down, you can bet she'll have eyes and ears on it.”

“But—” Sasha pleaded.

“—Dismissed, crew,” Pilar cut her off.

Ariadne patted Sasha on the shoulder as Pilar retreated down the hallway and the crowd dispersed. “I'm sorry. You should know, I fought her on this… but believe me, this place practically runs itself.”

“Not helping,” Sasha grumbled. Sweettalk hung back but kept her distance.

“No, you're not listening.” Ariadne put a hand on each shoulder and made eye contact over her glasses.

“What?” Sasha couldn't quite mask her frustration.

“This place is so well fortifed that you could basically leave it abandoned and nobody could touch it,” Ariadne said.

“Yeah, I get it.” Sasha tried to break eye contact, but Ariadne held on. “My sister doesn't want me leaving the station so she made up a job that doesn't need doing just to keep me here.”

“No, no… well, yes, that's exactly what she's doing, but you're not listening to me. You're hearing but you're not listening,” Ariadne said pointedly. “Spacebreather and I are going to be gone for a few days, but this place is so self-sufficient that you could probably just… take off for a day or two, have some fun, and as long as you got back before us, nobody would even know.”

Something clicked in Sasha's head. “Oh!!”

“She's very smart, really,” Sweettalk called from the other side of the room, “she's just new to mischief. I'll see to it she takes full advantage of what you just said.”

“Good man,” Ariadne said, disappearing down the corridor.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Sweettalk muttered to Sasha, “You know we aren't going on vacation, right?”

“I figured you'd have something up your sleeve.” Sasha smirked. “What's the plan?”

“They have La Pesadilla,” Sweettalk said, smiling, “and you know I've got my own shady contacts.”

“I thought you weren't on speaking terms with him,” Sasha said.

“Well, he could never resist a challenge,” Sweettalk explained, “and if you bust out and come back with some real answers, we could shove it in your sister's face.”

“Well, I don't know about face-shoving, but if you think he can get us some answers…” Sasha trailed off. “…Either way, I'm sure Pilar's given an order to keep me on the station, and you're the only one of her Whiptails who'll disregard that order.”

“You might want to talk to Fastwing.” Sweettalk winked. “Tell her you'll need to pull the ripcord. She'll know what that means.”

[fae-fucker]

Review: Cinder

by Marissa Meyer

A forbidden romance.

A deadly plague.

Earth’s fate hinges on one girl . . .

CINDER, a gifted mechanic in New Beijing, is also a cyborg. She’s reviled by her stepmother and blamed for her stepsister’s sudden illness. But when her life becomes entwined with the handsome Prince Kai’s, she finds herself at the centre of a violent struggle between the desires of an evil queen – and a dangerous temptation.

Cinder is caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal. Now she must uncover secrets about her mysterious past in order to protect Earth’s future.

This is not the fairytale you remember. But it’s one you won’t forget.

I DNF’d this book several years ago, probably soon after it came out. I thought the intro was super boring and ended up forgetting this book for literal years.

But, through peer pressure and hype, I decided to give it another shot.

And I’m glad I did! Once I got past the very dull first chapters, I was quickly pulled into the plot and found myself staying up late to finish the book.

A positive review? From ME? I know: wild:

The Writing

I’ve always been open about the fact that I don’t enjoy “pretty” prose. I find it very distracting and unimportant, personally. Which means that I, for the most part, enjoyed Meyer’s writing! It wasn’t usually in the way, and didn’t distract from the plot while still being well-crafted enough to convey the characters’ personalities.

I did find myself skimming a lot of the longer descriptions and action sequences, however. They often felt a bit confusing and sometimes unecessary as I knew the outcome of each, and in the case of descriptions, didn’t feel like I needed more than I picked up from the context clues within the scene.

Overall, I can’t remember a single gorgeous nor a single terrible quote, which is, like, pretty neat, I think.

The Characters

I honestly don’t have much to say in this department, I think the main cast were all well-written and developed for their respective roles.

Cinder was by far my favorite, with Dr. Erland a close second. Cinder was spunky and strong while still feeling like a person with insecurities and weaknesses, instead of being a 24/7 snark-machine. I found myself especially charmed by her massive crush on Kai, usually I think that shit is obnoxious in YA, but here it felt innocent and sweet, and the fact that Cinder herself acknowledged it and accepted it was refreshing.

Iko and Peony and the rest of the family all serve their purposes well. Even Adri, whom I found to be comically evil at times, still showed some depth every now and then. Pearl was probably the most boring of all the family members, I definitely think she could’ve used some more depth, but oh well, this is just the first book in a series and she’s a minor character, so I’m not too disappointed.

My biggest disappointment is probably Kai himself. I found him to be … very generic. I do like how kind and sweet and obvious he is with his feelings for Cinder, it’s so unheard of in YA where everyone’s brooding and obtuse at all times, so that was defo a plus, but other than that, I think he could’ve used more flaws. Or more good qualities. Or … any qualities, really. Even now I can’t really pinpoint any particular personality trait that guy has.

The Story

So, first things first: this isn’t really a Cinderella retelling. Which is fine! But I was expecting something more faithful, and that’s not what I got.

Cinder makes use of the iconic imagery of Cinderella, but it’s so awkward and inconsequential that it sticks out like a sore thumb. They’re introduced as subtly as shining a spotlight on a nuclear explosion (one character directly compares Cinder’s orange car to a pumpkin) and then discarded in one final scene, and after that the book has nothing to do with the fairytale at all. I get that it doesn’t have to be 100% faithful, but the marketing suggested more than what amounted to a bunch of shallow references.

But, despite that, I still think the story is probably this book’s strongest asset. It introduces new complications and escalates the conflict smoothly while skillfully juggling Cinder’s inner struggles as well as her blooming romance with Kai. Honestly, the best thing I can say about the romance is how restrained it was. There wasn’t any pretense about the depth of their LUURV, they were just two sweet teenagers with crushes, and I loved reading their interactions. One thing I would’ve liked to see is Kai’s POV when he interacted with Cinder, because I never really got why he’s into her. I mean, I can guess, because she’s pretty neat, but it would’ve been nice to see her from his eyes.

(I know usually seeing the protag from the love interest’s perspective means lots of worthless wank, but I’d trust Meyer to do it right.)

I don’t really want to spoil any more of the plot, so I’ll end it there, but I will say that if you’re older than 15, you’ll probably see the twist coming the moment the first hint is dropped, which I suppose it comes with the genre. There was a minor twist that did surprise me, mostly because it was also an organic part of the previous worldbuilding and had a natural explanation outside of the twist, so clearly Meyer is capable of writing decent twists, which makes me wonder why the main twist wasn’t hidden better.

The Worldbuilding

This book suffers from Selectionitis, aka All Countries On Earth Have Glooped Together In The Future For Some Reason. Except here it’s worse as now the continents ??? have Glooped Together??? Luckily it’s not as relevant here than it was in The Selection, so it’s not dwelled on long enough to get Uncomfortable beyond the initial implications. I’m not wholly comfy with this choice, but other people with more knowledge have talked about it already, so I’ll just leave it at that.

(Diversireads has a breakdown of all the racist and orientalist issues in the worldbuilding of Cinder.)

There’s also a new race of people introduced called Lunars, who have Space Magic, and the book sort of jokes that it’s space magic but also tries to explain it using mumbo jumbo science-y terms that does it no favors.

Tbh, I’m perplexed as to why Meyer decided to set this on earth in the first place. There are few references to the real world outside of place names, and it’s far enough into the future that there’s been more world wars (but Cinder’s car is still somehow functional, alright), and the aforementioned Glooping, I wonder why she didn’t just make up a planet. I suppose it’s easier for a younger YA audience to absorb familiar concepts instead of having to introduce a completely new world.

BUT, whatever. It serves its purpose and has an internal consistency, and I didn’t find myself questioning everything as I read, so tbh, it could’ve been much, much worse.

The Conclusion

Cinder is a breath of fresh air and a total surprise! I can see now why it’s as popular as it is. It definitely has flaws, as does any book, but I think I can recommend this to people with a good conscience. It’s a fun read that you don’t have to turn your brain off to enjoy but doesn’t require too much effort to get through. The writing is breezy, the characters are charming, the plot is intense (once you get past the first 5 chapters), and the worldbuilding is solid, if problematic.

I look forward to Scarlet, so do let me know if you want me to review that one as well once I’ve read it.

Also, do send in suggestions for what you want me to review next!

[abundantchewtoys]

HS Epi: Meat p22 reaction

So, John was doing something vaguely relevant to the plot.

Does that mean that whatever that was in the wallet for him to find, wasn't relevant? Or did Dirk really skip to a point in the future in his narration? I'd think that if a living person was captchalogued in the wallet, that'd be plot relevant.

If so, I wonder if it's more than one. But we're not likely to catch up with both Aradia and Terezi in one go. Also, I doubt Vriska somehow captchalogued herself in this wallet to escape the clutches of gravity. Well, except maybe if after reverse engineering the code for the wallet, she also alchemized a regular wallet besides the 8-ball/wallet combo.

But that makes me think of something else. I wonder what the max storage space of the wallet is... If it's functionally infinite, they have a functionally infinite singularity of questionable intent that might be in need of cleaning up at one point. :P Though it's doubtful.

---

"You’ve been drifting so long that you’ve lost the ability to objectively judge time or depth or distance. It’s getting hard to think about yourself as an objectively limited being. The boundaries of your skin begins to thin and disappear." Oooh, is it the lack of milestones in that plane, maybe, that's causing this introspection? Or is it just part of his ascension to his ultimate self?

"If your perception expands beyond the meat sack of your body, then are you really an individual anymore? Why shouldn’t we become gods? Why shouldn’t we become one God." Sounds like something Dirk might say - I know, funny because Dirk IS saying this, in John's stead. Alternatively, if Alternate Calliope is really malevolent, this might be her motivation to devouring everything ever. She wants to become UNIVAC.

"You scrunch up your nerdy face and furrow an eyebrow. It seems you aren’t enjoying this train of thought." John's intrusive thoughts are next level.

"Sorry, dude. That’s what’s on my mind right now. I’m having a phenomenological debate in my third ear that’s way more popping than your little hero’s journey into the belly of a quarter-life crisis." For a minute I thought he meant he was debating this with Kanaya, but he put her on hold so I was like: :? Then I realized he said "third ear", I guess that's something akin to the mind's eye, in that he's currently using the narration for his internal monologue.

"It turns out you don’t have time to worry about the voice inside your head, because you hear one outside of it." Ooh! Someone living, one we expect to be out here? And there Dirk goes, burying John's emerging awareness again, for a moment.

"At first you don’t think it’s real." ... Please don't be Alternate Calliope.

"MEENAH: yo blue guy MEENAH: get the shell down here"OOOOOH! She's alive!! ... Well, no, she's still dead, but you know. She survived Lord English, and the Black Hole. Girl's really got spunk. So, that brings her back in the running for candidates for John to give the ring to. ... Speaking of. Did John just, like, shrugged off Lord English's tooth, or is the poison still in his body?

I'm glad we saw her, it means that more people could have survived that were around before the battle (alive or dead), as well as the B2 kids that died during the battle! But uh... What even is still sustaining their existence? I mean, the dreambubbles were created to house them, only Sollux was able to leave through mumbo jumbo class/aspect magic.

"Your whirl around, upside down. You look up, then down. There she is." Hah, yeah, no point of reference, no gravity, so indeed, she could have been every where, relevant to him, that's also why she shouted "down here"!

"She’s clinging to a random server beacon, looking a little the worse for wear but still grinning. You float on down to greet her." Tsssh, she located the server running the LE code??? What could they even do with that, anymore. (How did it even survive.)

At least, I'm guessing it's that server, not the server hosting Rose's walkthrough. :P

So yeah, uh, that server was connected to Doc Scratch's study. In the Green Sun. ... Has it become a non-letal shortcut to Alternate Calliope now?

"JOHN: thank god. i was beginning to think that no one else was alive. MEENAH: im not alive" Hah! Ba-dum tssh.

"JOHN: oh right. sorry. JOHN: i’m glad to see you, is what i meant to say. MEENAH: same MEENAH: i fuckin guess" Yeah, not many of her friends will be left, probably. If any.

"She narrows her blank eyes. Her mouth twists into a frown. Not quite a concerned one, but close enough. You’ll take it." Is she noticing John has become an adult? ... Or yeah it might just be general concern, the situation is alarming enough. I wonder if she knows about Vriska? And what that exactly means to her, 16-year-old Vriska probably being dead for good.

Oh boy, but this is so cool, she's got potential for just as much as the Condesce, who had ties to Lord English. I wonder if she'll be instrumental in the final stages of the epilogues, if Alternate Calliope ends up being the/a end boss.

Can't shake the idea I'd like her to end up on Earth C, but then she'd not have a good role to play in a utopia, I think. But then what is her role in the story from here on out, exactly.

"MEENAH: damn buoy ya look like S)-(IT JOHN: yeah, i know. JOHN: i suffered a mortal wound, and then i threw up on myself." He didn't get better so much as that he walked it off.

"MEENAH: waterboat lord english MEENAH: he bite the bullet or what JOHN: yeah he’s... JOHN: he’s pretty fucking dead. MEENAH: whale MEENAH: theres that at least

There is definitely that, at least." Must feel like an anticlimax to Meenah too, probably. She wasn't around to see the guy bite it that was responsible for their own universe being forced to be scratched.

"You were kind of hoping you’d discover a survivor you could have an actual conversation with. Not that you aren’t glad to see Meenah, but you don’t /know/ her, and she’s not who you were really looking for." Funny how Meenah grew on John so much, what with how she ran him through on at least two occasions. I was thinking at first John was looking for Vriska, but that's just an automatism, a left over from when John still felt something for her. Of course, I forgot about Jade.

"That reminds you. JOHN: hey, uh... JOHN: mee... JOHN: fish? JOHN: (christ.)" Is that supposed to be a fish pun in her name, him using one cause he knows she likes them? Or is it that Dirk may remember Meenah's name (hearsay, in his case, since he's post-retcon - then again, ultimate self), but not John. :P

"JOHN: have you by any chance seen jade around? MEENAH: who da fuck is jade"PFffff, hah! Now she gets a chance as well to broadcast her ignorance in the names of the people in the other parties. 'THEY'RE ALL NAMED CARLOS AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED.'

"JOHN: i mean, REALLY? JOHN: you don’t know jade?" The time she spent a lot of time dreaming in the dreambubbles was before the A1 trolls ever became relevant. On the three year trip, the indication seemed to be they just met a lot of A2 ghosts from alternate timelines in their dreams.

"JOHN: jade’s like, a big deal? JOHN: i thought you were kind of important too?" Well, different circles. Top of class vs. top dog on the play yard.

"MEENAH: you didnt even know my name dog" He knew you were an alternate to Betty Crocker, though. :P

"You’ve never been accused of having stellar people-reading skills. But even you can tell the look on her face says it all right now." Well, just be glad he isn't Jake, or even a death glare wouldn't suffice.

"JOHN: wait a minute. JOHN: do you even know MY name? MEENAH: uhhh" Pfffff, hah! Actually, valid question. What with how she referred to even her friends by last name (okay, that's because they weren't revealed yet), and had all those nicknames for them (and Karkat and Aradia)... Maybe she's just really bad with names.

"MEENAH: like MEENAH: joke? MEENAH: joke somefin" Wrong bespectacled nerd, but I can see why she'd mix them up. :P Close enough, though!

"JOHN: joke is my biological father. JOHN: i mean JAKE! JOHN: jake is his name." No, I think jokes might actually have fathered you. :P What with how he's a trickster and all.

"Halfway through this exchange, Meenah pulls out a small, clamshell-shaped accessory kit, and begins to file her nails." This is starting to turn into an awkward schoolyard conversation between classmates that don't really know each other.

"She almost dislocates her jaw by yawning the moment you mention Jake." Which is funny because Jake could've dislocated her jaw when he pounced on her when he thought she was past Condesce. :P

"You decide to do her, as well as yourself, the favor of completely ruling out the possibility of eliciting any valuable information from this person." No, Dirk, I do think she still has an ace up her sleeve, even if she doesn't even know it yet. But at least maybe now they'll acknowledge the server?

"MEENAH: i aint moved from this floatin hunger trunk lookin piece of shit since i got my bass kicked" Hah, yeah, it does look like a fridge, in Andrew's art style. :P

"JOHN: well, you’re the first i’ve seen too. MEENAH: oh" I wonder who she might have wanted to find, besides Vriska.

"JOHN: so what’s your plan now?" Don't think she has any left, now. You'll have to lead, Johnnyboy.

"JOHN: you just gonna hang around here, in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing forever? MEENAH: thats what ghosts is most good at aint they" It wasn't what she set out to do, initially, though! She hates inertia.

"JOHN: you don’t have to stay here. JOHN: i can take you back with me, to my planet." Aha! It would have all sorts of implications, of course, since she didn't "win" by any measure. So the victory state would not account for her presence. It won't happen just yet, of course.

"Meenah stares at you for an uncomfortably long time. She looks you up and down, like she’s making certain calculations. On the one hand, spending infinity clinging to a fridge-like space computer circling a black hole sounds like a drag. On the other hand, will her coolness and street cred be able to survive any prolonged association with this dumb blue nerd? That’s what she could be thinking, you think. You hope not though, because if true, it would hurt your self-esteem." I give Meenah more credit than that - her attitude is part of a facade - but she could indeed be thinking exactly that. On the other hand, she might actually genuinely not know if he's "fo' real", one, and two, what she'd even do on his planet. ... Also, is John really asking a girl over to his place? He truly IS an adult. :P

"She finally appears to make up her mind. MEENAH: naaah" Hah, as if it's a drag for her. And what's her motivation then?

"MEENAH: ok for one thing genius MEENAH: im dead" Well, that's not a problem, though she wouldn't know. John still has the Ring of Life with him. But I wonder what the other reason is.

Hah, Blaperile points out that Meenah at one point told John specifically not to give her the ring, cause she didn't like how she turned out as Condesce. Right, she might think living is no longer her thing. Which is hilarious for a Life player. Still think John might make the proposition.

Also, she thinks she might not fit in with the others, but she doesn't have to worry. They're all disasters, one and all.

"MEENAH: i wont even last on your planet ill just like MEENAH: fade away or some shit MEENAH: i dont know what happens to ghosts in real places actually but ima guess it goes somefin like that" See also: what ever happened to Aranea after Game Over. :P

"MEENAH: anyway while you was floatin there i came up with my own plan" ? There's not a lot of options here, really. The Black Hole... Mugging John... Lazying about...

"JOHN: what is it? MEENAH: cmere MEENAH: gonna whisper it to you" Option A) she screams. Option B) she mugs him for the ring. Option C) she'll stab him again, assuming he's another hologram self.

"You lean in rather credulously, and bring your ear toward her cupped hand. MEENAH: (nerd)

You pull back, unamused by the prank. What is this, you think. Fucking amateur hour?" Hah, chances are high she just swiped the ring. Or the wallet. Once a Thief... But heheh, still funny how Meenah likes to prank. Seems like Condesce and Sassacre really found one another. :P

"MEENAH: reel cute you wanna be my savior blue boy MEENAH: but the fact is you already helped me out MEENAH: got everyfin i need from you MEENAH: sea ya round sucker! 38)" She putting the ring on now? But uh, she'd spawn on Earth C, right? Or right there?

"She’s laughing her ass off. Before you can react, she jams the button down on the beacon and opens the server. She jumps into the hatch and the door snaps closed behind her." ... What! WHAT??? ... She's not in cahoots with Alternate Calliope, is she? She might just be trying to defeat the end boss herself. At least, if the server still leads to where the Green Sun used to be.

"Oh shit." ... It doesn't lead to Dirk now, does it?

"I think I know what just happened. You might want to check your pockets." So, if she took the wallet and not the ring, that means what's inside the wallet is relevant to the plot!

"Sure enough, it’s missing. The Ring of Life you stole back from Aranea has been re-stolen. Bitch just picked your pocket. You got played, man." Wow. So she's actually decided to go through with getting resurrected. ... Although it could actually be for Alternate Calliope, but then what would even the implications of her resurrection be?? It would be a parallel to how Condy worked for LE. But if there's two alive Calliopes that ended up on Earth C, I suspect there might be an impersonation at one point.

Yeah, so if both wear a Ring of Life/Void... Maybe that'd have funky repercussions as well. Not to mention they're both versions of the same "ultimate self" - although 'our' Calliope's not a god tier, there might be a bleedover again, like with Jade. But Alternate Calliope might want to dispose of Calliope, if she wants to become the only version of them. Then again, she did specifically tell her other to go and enjoy life.

---

I wonder if it'll become relevant at any point that having everyone in the dreambubbles follow you would supposedly grant you the boon of resurrection. Since there's so few people left out here, it seems like it could have become a feasible thing to do. In fact, it might be that this is represented by Alternate Calliope's resurrection, if events really play out like that: Meenah might be the only other ghost left. Unless there are still the other A2 ghosts we're missing, from the character list.

[quaranmine]

you took unreliable narration and ran with it so hard. it’s like. the genre the emotions the setting even the basic plot all of it is warped by grian’s perception of it. and it’s so obvious while you’re reading. but it just hits so hard ogughhhhhh

YESSSSSSS the unreliable narrator aspect of this story is one of my favorite parts, actually. It's a sad story to write but it was fun to write in such a limited perspective while still making sure readers realized what I wanted them to. One of the main questions of the story in my outline doc is "Is this a conspiracy, or does Grian think it's a conspiracy?"

Grian's point of view touches every part of the story. All his basic views of the people around him are influenced by it--you have to ask yourself, is this person he's interacting with Actually being unreasonable, or is it just him? Like, with his interactions with Linda in chapter 9 he's being pretty awful in his descriptions of her out of just. general suspicion but if you read between the lines she's just acting perfectly normal lmao. He feels like everyone else is against him, because he feels like the only one who believes Mumbo is still alive. And well, maybe he is, but that doesn't mean everyone else is an antagonist. He repeatedly holds people at an arm's length or has bad-faith interpretations of their actions.

He's got unreasonable and irrational feelings about Mumbo's disappearance associated with his grief. He think it's his fault. He has self-destructive behaviors related to this (never looking to his own future, not going to work, poor self-care, self-isolation, among other things...) His view of Mumbo himself is warped by the grief, to where he sort of creates him as a flawless person in his mind. To him, Mumbo's a person who did everything right all the time. Grian works so hard to apply as much logic as he can to everything while purposefully ignoring things he finds upsetting. He's so logical it wraps back around to being illogical since he won't acknowledge the most likely scenarios.

One of my favorite trends I'm seeing pop up in the reviews of this story is of people who started out more on Grian's "side" so to speak, who slowly drifted over into expecting the actual story's outcome. I know that readers are primed to believe him and think that he will be proven right just because...that's how a lot of fictional stories go. But the readers have a clearer head than Grian does. Eventually all the irrationalities of his thoughts and actions pile up until it's clearer and clearer he's unreliable. Grian can't see through his own thoughts because he's stuck in his own head and living in the story. But the readers have the benefit of seeing everything more wholly. And to be clear when I say being on his "side" I don't mean that there's a right or wrong side to be on, just that people often start the story more inclined to believe Mumbo's alive. And by the end of it....not so much, even by the point that Grian's still clinging to it.

I think his unrealiability just makes the emotion of the story hit harder, though. I think it makes him more painfully human. It means I can truly tip the world on its end for him, because it shifts the entire narration of the story. As the author I just flipped back and forth between wanting to hug him to wanting to shake him lol.

[thefuriousstarlightstudent]

Literally Billy Batson chapter four is here! It’s a very long story why it took so long, but I do apologize. It shouldn’t (hopefully) take that long again. :)

Chapter Four Ao3 Link: Positive

Fawcett City, U.S.A.

October 5th, 2010

The car ride is silent. Billy isn't sure if it's because Mr. Wayne is a quiet person or if it's Billy's own hostile attitude towards… well, everything that's keeping everyone quiet. Billy's unwilling to break the silence, and it seems, so are they. The entire ride is - in a word - awkward. Tense is another word Billy might use.

It's almost worse because Billy is sitting in the back and both Mr. Wayne and Dick Grayson are sitting in the front seats, passing meaningful looks back and forth so smoothly that it reminds Billy of how Batman and Robin communicate. In fact, something about them is oddly familiar, and not just in how smoothly they communicate. But that's silly to think; Billy has never seen either of them before today.

It doesn't take long for Mr. Wayne to pull the car to a stop in front of what has to be the fanciest hotel Billy has ever seen in his short life. There's a man in a red uniform waiting by the door who takes the keys from Mr. Wayne and immediately gets into the car, driving it off towards a parking lot. Billy watches for a moment before following Mr. Wayne and Dick into the hotel.

Rich people are weird, he decides. Is it really that hard to park your own car? Or to have to walk more than fifteen feet in slightly chilly air to get inside a building? Mr. Wayne doesn't seem like the type of person to be so lazy. Billy doesn't really like Mr. Wayne at the moment, but he doesn't think he's so self-centered either.

As they walk through the hotel, Billy watches Mr. Wayne. He smiles a lot, more than Billy would expect. He also comes off as slightly goofy. But the thing is Billy doesn't think that's how Mr. Wayne really is, because as soon as they're out of sight of the hotel receptionist and other guests in the waiting room, he goes right back to being the quiet and introspective man who gave Billy his mom's letter and drove them here. Mr. Wayne puts on a very noticeable front, at least to Billy.

He files the information away for later.

They don't walk very far. In what feels like no time at all to Billy they arrive at a hotel room. Mr. Wayne slides a card and the door pops open, revealing a room that is at least as large as Billy's old house from when his parents were alive.

He snaps his mouth shut. He hadn't even noticed it had dropped. The whole place looks like it should be where a movie star stays, or even a king. Heck, some of the gods Billy has met would be happy to stay here, and they're the pickiest beings Billy has ever met.

Billy tries to keep his emotions in check. As cool as this is (and extremely extravagant), he doesn't want to be impressed or amazed. He doesn't want to acknowledge that any of this may be true. That maybe, just maybe, C.C. Batson isn't his biological dad. He just wants to go home and pretend that this isn't happening.

After a moment, Billy notices a woman near the back of the room. She has brown hair with grey streaks. She also wears a lab coat. This is probably Dr. Leslie Thompkins, Billy realizes.

"Hello," she says, looking up at the sound of the door closing and walking towards them. "I see you're back, Bruce. And you must be Billy. I'm Dr. Thompkins. How do you do?"

"I'm Billy Batson, but I guess you knew that."

Dr. Thompkins' lips twitch at his name as if he's told a spectacularly funny joke and she is trying her hardest not to laugh. Billy isn't quite sure what she finds so funny about his name, but she seems like an okay person. Something about her is just very soothing.

"Do you know what you're doing here?" she asks.

Billy scowls slightly. "Yeah. I do. Mr. Wayne told me he wants to do a paternity test because of a letter my mom sent him after I was born."

"Go ahead and sit down then," she says, gesturing towards a chair. "I'm just going to be doing a cheek swab. Then I'll use that. An analysis shouldn't take long; the equipment is all here."

Billy sits down. "Doesn't DNA analysis take longer to do than an hour? I thought it took a day or two."

Dr. Thompkins seems surprised by his question. She shoots an impressed look to Mr. Wayne.

"Normally it does," she concedes. "I have equipment that makes it a bit faster and easier."

"Ah," Billy says. It makes sense Mr. Wayne is able to have it done quicker and easier. He has money. Money makes everything easier and faster.

As Dr. Thompkins gathers what must be the proper equipment. Out of the corner of his eye, Billy sees Mr. Wayne sit down awkwardly on the end of a bed as if he's not quite sure what to do with himself. Something about that strikes him as funny, even if he doesn't laugh. Dick sits down on the floor at Mr. Wayne's feet.

Billy isn't quite sure what to make of Dick. The teen is so friendly it's abrasive. Billy's met his fair share of teens during his years being homeless. Most of them aren't this friendly. They're okay, sure, but they're also high half the time. It makes it hard to talk to them or enjoy their company.

"Open please," Dr. Thompkins says.

Billy drops his mouth open and lets her swab it with the cotton. The rubber gloves she's wearing are uncomfortable and feel strange when they brush the inside of his mouth. She removes the cotton after a moment, leaving his mouth dry.

She drops the cotton swab into a plastic bag quickly and zips the bag.

"The results should be back in about an hour. I'm going to go and run them in the other room."

As she leaves, Billy finds himself thinking that he hadn't even noticed the hotel room had more rooms. How big is it?

Billy hopes that the test comes back negative. He hopes that he's not Mr. Wayne's son. But the more Billy thinks about it the more he can see it being true. His mom wouldn't have written the letter if it wasn't the truth. And honestly, Billy looks like Mr. Wayne a lot. A lot more than he looked like C.C. Batson, at any rate.

The room is quiet. No one really talks or moves, nor do they make a move to do so. Billy thinks it's because they're not quite sure what to say to him. There's a moment where Mr. Wayne shifts as if to stand up or say something, but in the end, he stills again. Billy's thankful for that, in a way. He doesn't think he's ready to face this all, not fully, at least.

They all stay quiet for the rest of the hour until Dr. Thompkins comes back, lips thin and almost frowning. She's holding onto a small stack of papers tightly, knuckles white. Billy thinks he knows what she's going to say.

"The paternity results are here," she says, holding the papers out to Mr. Wayne, who is quick to snatch them and reads quickly. She retreats to the other room and closes the door, leaving the three of them alone.

Mr. Wayne's face is stiff. Billy finds himself unable to read the man's expression easily, which is beyond frustrating.

Finally, Mr. Wayne looks up at Billy. He feels his heart sink.

"I am, aren't I?" Billy asks. "Your son, I mean."

Wordlessly, Mr. Wayne stands up and gives the papers to Billy. Mostly they're full of techno mumbo-jumbo that Billy doesn't have a chance of understanding unless the Wisdom of Solomon is coming into play.

The chances of Doner 1 being the biological father of Doner 2 is 99.78%. This is considered a positive result because of-

Billy sets the papers down, hands shaking slightly. He drops his hands to his sides so no one notices. Mr. Wayne is his dad, biologically at least. The letter had said that his dad, C.C., knew about it, he knew that Billy was Mr. Wayne's son. Did he still love Billy? He remembers his dad loved him, but what if it was all a lie?

Well, it was, in a way. They hadn't told Billy. They'd lied about it and said he was C.C.'s son. Even his mom lied to him. And sure, maybe they'd eventually been planning to come clean, but they'd died before they could. They'd died and left Billy alone with Uncle Ebenezer.

(At least there's one positive, Billy finds himself thinking. He's not related to Uncle Ebenezer.)

Billy feels hot tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He wipes them roughly with his sleeve.

A moment later, he feels a hand on his shoulder. Billy looks up into Mr. Wayne's eyes. He looks, not pitying, but understanding, which is a step higher than Billy had expected. It's strange. It's not exactly unwelcome.

"I am sorry, Billy," Mr. Wayne says sincerely. "If I had known…"

"What?" Billy asks dully, feeling drained and lifeless. "What would you have done? Taken me from them?"

"No. But I would have been there for you after they died. I would have been there instead of your uncle. Maybe I could have been there and you wouldn't have run away."

Billy stiffens. "You know about that, huh?"

"You aren't in a foster home. You haven't been adopted. Officially, you're still a missing person. The only reason was that I found your name on a school field trip checklist. Not in the system though…"

"So, what now?" Billy asks, trying to steer the conversation away from his magical attendance. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

Somehow, Billy knows the answer. Mr. Wayne isn't anything like he seems to be on television. He's nice, kind, understanding. It's hard to be mad at him.

"No, I'm not."

"I can't leave Fawcett," Billy tries. He sounds desperate. He is desperate. Fawcett City is his life. It's his home. All his friends are here. His work is here. It's where he lived with his parents when they were alive.

"You can't continue living alone," Mr. Wayne argues. "It's not safe, especially not if you're only ten."

"I've been plenty safe so far," Billy mutters. "I don't need to be protected. I never have."

"You're ten. Wouldn't you like to feel safe? Have a warm place to sleep?"

Billy bites back the comment about his apartment being warm. He can't let them know about his magic. Not yet, at least. He doesn't want to put them in danger or make them think he's a bad guy.

"Billy, the point is Bruce doesn't want to hide you like an inconvenience or get rid of you. You're not a problem and he's not ashamed of you. He just wants you to be safe. He's just really, really bad with feelings," Dick finally bursts out.

"It's not that," Billy says. To be honest, the idea that maybe Mr. Wayne may have wanted him hidden so he didn't have to deal with a surprise son hadn't even occurred to Billy. It is nice to know that he doesn't want to hide Billy, though. "I just really love it here. It's where… it's where I lived with my parents."

Sure, now the tears are crocodile tears, but if it works… well, he's not exactly going to complain. And even though the tears are fake now, a big part of his words is true. He doesn't want to leave because it's the last place his family lived together, whole and happy. But he also doesn't want to leave because this city needs Captain Marvel. He can't just leave.

"I- I understand that," Mr. Wayne says awkwardly. "I do. But I can't just leave you alone. Please, understand your mother asked me to take care of you if anything happened to her or - or your father."

And Billy does. It's certainly nice to know that his mother didn't want him staying with Uncle Ebenezer, at any rate. That she had a backup plan.

"I understand," Billy says. He does, really. And he knows there's no possible way he's going to be able to convince Mr. Wayne to leave him alone. In a way, it will be nice. To not have to worry about money anymore. Or the other things he generally has to worry about.

Mr. Wayne doesn't say anything else and removes his hand from Billy's shoulder. He stays in place for a moment before wandering off after Dr. Thompkins, leaving Billy and Dick Grayson alone.

"Bruce can be a little rough around the edges," Dick says. "It doesn't mean anything though, so don't take whatever he says to heart, or do, depending. He's kinds of… weird."

Billy looks over at Dick. "Well, it's not like that's that strange. Grown-ups are always weird."

"That they are. I'm still trying to figure out why myself."

"Me too," Billy agrees.

"And about your parents, I'm sorry."

"It's been a long time."

"Still," Dick says, sounding much too knowing about the feeling of having your family die. "Sorry. I know how much it sucks. Especially when you have to go live with a stranger."

Billy studies Dick, who is no longer looking at him. And somehow, Billy can see himself living with them. He'll just need to figure out a way to keep working as Captain Marvel.

Fawcett City, U.S.A.

October 6th, 2010

Billy stays the night in the hotel with them. They let him have one of the many rooms himself, even let him lock the door. It makes him feel much safer. He may think they're good people, but he's not dumb. He's not just going to trust them completely.

The only issue is today is a school day. Billy can't just skip, but apparently, he's supposed to. He doesn't like that. Billy hasn't missed a day of school except for when he's been sick. It feels irresponsible to miss it today, even if it's for a good reason. Maybe he should make them think he's transferred. He's pretty sure he can cast a spell to do that.

Billy will have to somehow sneak away to cast another spell. Or maybe he'll just call in sick for now and let Mr. Wayne deal with it later. He's sure the man can for him. And that way Billy doesn't have to worry about getting caught sneaking away and/or using magic. Those are both things he really doesn't want to have to explain.

"Oh, you're awake," Dick says, emerging from the room he was sleeping in (seriously, four bedrooms! In a hotel!). "How did you sleep?"

Billy shrugs. "Okay, I guess. The beds are too soft."

"Yeah, I know, right," Dick agrees. "I hate sleeping in them too."

Billy hums in agreement. He wonders if he could make a run for it. Not that he wants to, of course. And even if he did Mr. Wayne could probably just have Superman come find Billy. He probably has access to him since he funds the League.

If Billy's being honest with himself, having someone alive who cared about him, like a parent, kind of, is going to be nice. It's exciting. Strange, but exciting.

The more he thinks about it, the more Billy realizes he looks like Mr. Wayne too. And not just because of similar hair color and skin tone. Billy really looks like him. He has the same eye shape, same nose, same mouth, same everything, really. Except for the eyes. He has his mom's eye color.

"We're heading back to Gotham City today," Dick says.

"I figured. I don't really want to. I like it here."

Billy really has to figure out how he can keep being Captain Marvel too. He'll just have to sneak away and transform, then fly to Fawcett City. Luckily, he can fly at the speed of sound, so it shouldn't take long. It is inconvenient though. He'll also have to find out some way to keep an eye on the news in case there's anything big that happens in Fawcett so that he can come and help, whenever.

"Fawcett does seem like a cool city," Dick agrees.

"It's just - Gotham is bigger. I won't know anyone. But everyone is going to know me, aren't they?"

"Probably."

"Here I'm a normal kid, but in Gotham, I'm going to be a billionaire's son. Or at least living with a billionaire. It's weird."

"I know exactly what you mean. But it's not as bad as it seems, I promise. You adjust, at least."

"I don't want to adjust. I want to have everything stay the same. And I know that's dumb," Billy says. "But I don't want to be a billionaire's son. I just want - I want…"

"Your parents back," Dick finishes softly. "It's cool, but you'd give everything up for your parents. Even a billion dollars. Or living with someone who has a billion dollars."

"Is that bad?" Billy asks, slightly desperate. "That I'd rather have them back than have Mr. Wayne know about me existing?"

"I think I would give anything to have my parents back," Dick says. "Even my friends. The life I have now. I think I'd probably give it all up in an instant if there was even a chance I could get them back. I miss them."

"Do you think - will I have to call Mr. Wayne dad?" Billy asks. He doesn't want to call the man dad. His dad is C.C. Batson and always will be, regardless of the information about having an alive biological father. "I mean, I guess he is, but he didn't raise me. My dad did. I don't want to call anyone else dad."

Dick laughs. It's a little thick like he's holding back heartbreaking tears. He looks at Billy with a grin so wide that Billy's surprised the teenager's face isn't split open in two.

"No, Bruce won't make you do that. I'm pretty sure he understand why you won't. He's pretty awesome like that. He wouldn't say no to being called Bruce though. Between you and me, being called Mr. Wayne makes him feel old."

"Thanks, Dick," Billy says.

"It's no problem at all. I get this is all pretty crazy and definitely not asterous."

Billy bites his tongue to keep from asking about that last word. He doesn't want to be rude. Not when Dick is being so understanding.

"Yeah," Billy finally says. "Not asterous."

[irisinally]

Laven Week 2k17- Astral distance

12th - Nine of Clubs | endurance, disappointment, idealism

Summary:

It’s been a long time since Lavi and Allen had seen each other because of the constant missions. One day, Allen comes to his room just after going on a long mission to ask him about an object that he had obtained, and a promise forms between them. 

Words: 1753

Read on ao3

Read on Tumblr- Read more

The new headquarters were big, elegant and functional. For once, all the equipment was organized and in its place, the cafeteria had more windows that filtered the autumn light and the training grounds were an open space that let them breath fresh air when they most needed it.

But they were cold, impersonal, with white-painted walls and not enough furniture to make them seem more like a home for them. Lavi thought that it didn’t really matter anymore, because they were almost always running around, catching up with the missions they hadn’t been able to do when they were recovering and moving the headquarters.

Everyone looked grimmer, and Lavi wasn’t sure if it was because of the recent losses or because Central had been interfering more than usual with the Order and its staff. The cafeteria wasn’t as inviting as it had been before. The new people looked at them as if they were rare specimens and Lavi wondered if he had done that at some point as his role of Bookman. He sure hoped not. The result was that Exorcists and the few people they had confidence with in the Science Department grouped together to ignore the stares.

As Lavi stared at the wall in front of him, eye half-closed and fingers hitting the pen on the table, he asked himself if he had changed. That fight with Road in the Ark had really rattled him, had made him face things he didn’t want to acknowledge. He gritted his teeth. He had changed too much, he cared too much. The Order was steering him away from his original path and the bad part was that he didn’t mind that much. He wanted to punch himself.

Most importantly, he was so busy, that he didn’t have enough time to catch up with the other Exorcists as much as he’d like. He always came back tired and spent half his day sleeping, or doing reports for Bookman, so he didn’t have too much time to chat with his companions. He couldn’t call them friends, even if part of his mind screamed and hit him, telling him it was the opposite.

It was a long time since he last saw Allen, he thought and then grimaced and his pen fell on the table. He was doing it again. He was nearing dangerous territory. Allen Walker was a constant reminder that he had changed. He had hope, and he was still debating if it was a good thing. He couldn’t ignore the feeling, though, he knew he missed the white-haired boy.

“Lavi?” called a soft voice from the door and Lavi jumped, hitting his leg on the table and nearly falling down with his chair.

“Allen?” he mumbled to himself and he got up from the chair, leaving the report he was writing for Bookman under some of the newspapers they had in their room. They really needed to clean. He opened the door and grinned automatically and if his eye shone more than usual, that was just a trick of the light. “Hey, Beansprout, what do you need?”

“My name is Allen, Lavi,” snapped the boy and Lavi chuckled. Allen looked over his shoulder and to his sides and Lavi arched an eyebrow. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” said Lavi and took a step to the side so that the white-haired boy could enter his mess of a room. Lavi noticed the suitcase in his hand, the dirt on his pants and boots and red splotches on his skin. He grinned again and he tried to ignore just how genuine it was. “Got sunburned, uh?”

Allen sighed and plopped down on his bed, leaving his suitcase on the floor and looking exhausted. When the afternoon light illuminated his face, the red on his face was more pronounced and Lavi was surprised to see a few freckles on his cheeks and nose. He didn’t think it was cool that both of them had freckles and he definitely didn’t think it was adorable. He did not.

“Don’t remind me,” grumbled Allen while Lavi closed his door softly. The redhead practically jumped on the bed and the mattress wobbled. “It isn’t the first time. When I went to the South of Asia with Master, I always got sunburned. Some people even asked me if I was sick. It was horrible.”

Lavi laughed. He didn’t have that problem himself. He still got sunburn sometimes, but his skin was tanner than Allen’s and he didn’t live in the United Kingdom like his friend, so the pollution from the industry hadn’t affected him.

“So, got anything interesting to tell me?” asked Lavi with a big grin. He leaned on the headboard of the bed, avoiding hitting his head on the top bunk, and fixed his gaze on his companion, watching as he smiled slightly and reached for his suitcase.

“More like I need to ask you something,” he said with a shy tone that was rare to hear those days.

Lenalee had told Lavi one day that Johnny had noticed that the white-haired Exorcist had dropped his formal speech along the way and seemed closer to them. The redhead had already noticed before, Bookman and all, but he couldn’t help but share his friend’s excitement.

“Ah, Allen,” called Lavi while the younger Exorcist searched around the suitcase open on his lap. Allen hummed, but didn’t look up, white eyebrows furrowed and mouth in a thin line. “Where is Link? I don’t see any blond complaining about how you should go bath and rest. And where is Timcanpy?”

“Oh, that,” chuckled Allen, but it was tired and not as bright as it had once been and Lavi felt sad, even as he shoved the emotion away and tried to focus. “I’ve just been to eat. Link was talking with Jerry about a new recipe for a cake, so I just said that I’ll go to my room to leave this and grab some clothes to change into after the bath. I left Tim with him, just in case they finished talking before I came back. But I really needed to ask you about this…  thing.”

“Thing?” repeated Lavi with a curious eyebrow raised. He scooted closer to the other and tried to peek in his messy suitcase. “What thing?”

“I don’t know what it is.” Allen sighed. “That’s what I wanted to ask you. Someone in the village gave it to me when we told them we were travelers.”

Lavi hummed and waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on his knee and taking his bandana off before putting it back on several times. Finally, Allen cheered and raised the golden object. As he closed his suitcase again, Lavi tilted his head and observed the mysterious object. It was metallic, a faded golden colour and it had some mirrors and what Lavi deduced to be some filters on one side, while in the opposite side there was a thin visor. His eye widened, excited.

“Oh, this is a sextant,” he exclaimed and took it from Allen’s hands carefully. He analyzed the mirrors, the visor and the carved numbers that indicated the degrees.

“What is that?” asked Allen with a confused frown. Lavi smiled at him to put him at ease. While Allen knew a lot about the real world (sometimes he wondered if Allen knew more than him), about the darkest parts of humanity, he wasn’t as educated as him, didn’t know as much as he did. He was learning more and more, though, a curiosity fuelled by the Science Department.

“This is an astronomical object. It’s usually used by the sailors,” explained Lavi and turned the object in his hands. “I could tell you how it works, but it’s all astronomical and mathematical mumbo-jumbo. But, the summarized version is that it can tell you your position or the distance between two distant objects like, for example, the moon and a star.”

“I see,” mumbled Allen and took the sextant from Lavi hands more carefully than before, looking over the mirrors and numbers with sparked curiosity. “It would be great to try it. ”

“Yeah,” mumbled Lavi and, before he could stop himself, continued, “we could board a boat and try it sometime.”

He wanted to punch himself. He was entering in dangerous territory again, this time faster, with his arms wide open and a stupid smile on his face while he shouted that he was there. He wanted to punch himself so hard, for getting attached, for getting blinded by Allen’s light, for worrying about him when he saw how he hid a yawn and his arms trembled under his weight. He wasn’t supposed to say that, he wasn’t supposed to care. But, most of all, he mustn’t have gotten his hopes up. And yet…

“That would be perfect.” Allen smiled and his eyes shone with that dazzling light and Lavi was weak. So weak.

“I could try to teach you,” continued Lavi and his face stretched in a smile that made his eye soft and his heart sing. “I’m pretty sure you would be a genius at math. You could calculate everything so fast.”

“You’re saying that because of Master’s debts, right?” grunted Allen and his arms trembled for a last time before he collapsed on the mattress. “Ugh, I don’t feel okay at all.”

“Oh, c’mon, we still need to plan it out,” laughed Lavi and oh, he was in so much trouble already, he was digging his own grave there.

“Please, don’t make me pay for the boat, I’m still broke,” whined Allen and he rolled on the bed while Lavi laughed and took the sextant from his hands, leaving it on the bedside table before they broke it.

“Nah, we’ll get someone to pay for us,” said Lavi between laughs. He felt so light, it had been awhile since he had felt so good and at peace. “Or we’ll just steal it. It can’t be that difficult.”

“Yeah, it’s just a wooden structure that moves slowly in the water,” chuckled Allen. “Perfect escape. Hey, we could use it when Kanda goes after us. He doesn’t know how to swim, after all.

Lavi laughed again.

He knew that it couldn’t be possible, that he was walking on thin ice, that something unexpected and bad could happen at any moment. But he couldn’t bring himself to care, he just wanted to stay with Allen, that stubborn ball of light, and laugh and have a good time.

He would endure Bookman’s lecture later.

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Crush - Chapter 17. Forever Friends

Pairing: Eric/OC *Abbey* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M - slight trigger warning.

A memory from Eric’s past plays tricks on him. And it’s all about the girl, Abbey Ainsworth.

A/N: Yay! Finally the newest chapter after SUCH a long time! Enjoy!

Tags:  @iammarylastar  @badassbaker  @pathybo@mimigemrose@frecklefaceb  @beltz2016  @ariwolff14  @lauraaan182 @kenzieam  @tigpooh67@elaacreditava@equalstrashflavoredtrash@murmelinchen @feminamortem

Lauren accompanies Eric in the truck to Amity. He says nothing, gnawing his cheek with his foot to the floor, the scenery darting by them.

There was a strange anxious feeling in the air and she wondered if Eric could feel it too. Of course, she knew more than what she had told Eric; the information coming from a Dauntless informant, but it was really not her place to say, not over something like this. She didn't have the authority, nor the technical terms to use in order to comfort him.

"You just tell me if you need me to do anything, okay?" she leaves her words lingering. He doesn't acknowledge, if anything, it feels like the truck speeds up.

Strangely, Johanna is the first person Eric sees waiting for him at the end of the track. Her hands are clasped in front of her and she doesn't smile like she usually does. He jumps from the cab, ignoring her ass, and walking past her, heading straight for the Hospice.

"Eric," she says calmly at first, her jewelry cluttering from her jogging to keep up. "Eric, please wait!"

"It's my child and Abbey in there! Why would I wait?" He barely stops, hissing the words at her, not even throwing her a glance.

"Eric, you must stop and listen!" She yelps at his abrupt turn towards her, his hand skimming across his mouth in agitation while his eyes dart between her and Lauren trailing behind. Lauren nods to him, a friendly gesture of encouragement for him to actually spare her a minute.

"What?"

"Abbey is fine, but-"

"That's great," he snarls at her. "But if this is about anything other than her, then you really have some cheek for even mentioning-"

"Fuck sake, Eric!" Lauren yells at him. "Let her talk."

Eric crosses his arms, his jaw tense, and it pushes Johanna on. There was no real way to best approach it. "Abbey is in a very fragile state of mind right now… Your child… They- they didn't make it. She lost the baby. I'm truly sorry."

"What?" He looks at Lauren and she nods meekly. "You're saying… You knew?"

He barrels towards Johanna, face red and blotchy, eyes cast over, words lost. Lauren moves forward and grabs his jacket. "It's not Johanna's fault! It's nobodies fault!" Lauren tells him over and over, pushing him away and grabbing him every time he would shove her. They eventually break away from their scuffle and Eric throws a hand to his head, taking deep breaths as he walks in a circle a few times, trying to release the anger that was more at himself than anything.

"You should know this now before you go in there," Johanna finally finishes once she had watched his bodily cues of the information finally sinking in.

"What the fuck am I meant to say to her?! What the fuck can I possibly do?" he asks frantically, not really wanting an answer. The two women stay quiet. "Is this my fault? Am I really such a fucking asshole that we deserve this?" Everything the nurse had said back in Dauntless was true. It was true and he hadn't told Abbey. He sent her away from Dauntless. He had broken her heart.

Lauren looks to the ground and Johanna keeps her eyes off into the distance as he continuously paces, feeling his whole world sway around him. There were no words, but he knew he had to see her. Suddenly he takes off towards the Hospice, but this time, nobody tries to stop him.

Amity Hospice is small; a lone building tucked away behind the dome of Amity. He's slightly deflated from his anger, wallowing in regret instead. When the nurse recognizes him she begins to stand to take him to Abbey's room but he halts her with his hand.

"Down there on the left," the nurse tells him, and he quickly looks back to Lauren and Johanna talking outside the Hospice doors, giving him the time he so desperately needed.

Eric hesitates on the door handle, taking a deep breath before pushing his way inside. He was sick to the back teeth of hospitals and every misfortune he associated them with.

The window is wide open inside, the pulled curtains fluttering as the door opens. Abbey lays on her side away from him, curled up into herself, but by the looks of it, staring out the window. It's only the birds he can hear, sometimes seeing one flutter past the window. It's a serene view, almost like a picture with the woods in the distance and blue sky. On the side sit flowers of all colors in a vase, close to her bed, and Abbey's own dress almost matches the vibrant colors, but the vibrancy doesn't seem to be helping Abbey.

Eric sighs, kissing his teeth and moving closer. She looked like the little girl he remembered all those years ago all of a sudden.

"Ab's?" Saying her name is painful and he closes his eyes momentarily. When she doesn't move, he moves around to the side she's facing, perching on the end of her cot. She has goosebumps on her bare legs and her skin is cold to touch.

Her eyes that were staring out ahead, now flicker down to the edge of her pillow. "What are you doing here?"

"That's a shitty question and you know it."

"Go away."

Eric takes his hand from her, placing them in his lap before tilting his head back to peer out the window. "I'm not going anywhere."

She shifts on the bed, balling her hands up between her legs and pushes her face back into the pillows, closing her eyes. Eric doesn't move.

Eric watches her pack her flowery bag up that evening, wiping at her face every so often as she did, and completely ignoring he was even there. She looked drained of color, hair limp, cheeks puffy. As she zips the bag, Eric puts his hand on hers. She pauses, staring at it for a while, the slightest flicker of her finger runs along his, and then she moves away. She leaves the room and he follows with her flowery ass bag in hand.

He understood exactly what that small action had meant. She was thankful he was there.

Eric stays at Abbey's for the next week. He wasn't leaving her, not again. He takes the opportunity to work on a few things in the day at Amity as Abbey seemed to have no interest in leaving her house anytime soon. He brought her food back for her and watched her only ever eat half of it, locking herself away in her bedroom after. She had been to a follow-up appointment, though, and only told him that she was fine.

But on a random muggy night, while Eric dozes on her couch, he unexpectedly feels her sit down by the gap near his stomach, a woolen knit blanket over her shoulders. "Hi," she smiles weakly down into her lap rather than at him.

"Hi." His tone is light, but his brows are characteristically furrowed. He rubs a hand on his chest as he rolls back slightly, trying to wake himself and get a better view of her in the darkness.

Abbey's head tilts, a serious expression gracing her features. "I'm sorry."

Eric replies, "Me, too." What for, he didn't know, but it seemed appropriate.

There's a long pause before she speaks. "They say… they say I can't have children naturally. If at all…" Her fingers pluck at the threads of the throw covering him. Eric had been spying in on her activity at the Hospice; he read all the reports. It plainly stated she had miscarried and a bunch of other mumbo jumbo about her blood work that he already knew. "That I'll always lose it because of my blood, or something, they said."

"Doctors say a lot of things."

"You already knew that though, didn't you?" She looks at him for a moment, whispering, "I spoke to Clem…"

Eric doesn't really know what to say. The last thing he wanted her to think is that he had lied to her, or felt ashamed. Maybe that's what she is thinking? After all, he did send her back as soon as the factionless rebellion had ended, and he damns himself for it now. "I was trying to protect you. I thought you'd be happier if-"

He stops when he sees her lips tremble, and she bites it. "They said I could go to Erudite and stay with my parents to try and find a solution. But I… I don't know… I don't know if I want that. I don't think I can do that again."

Eric finds himself talking before he's even aware he thought it, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." But if anything, it was a complete surprise. He had thought that after this she would be adamant on finding a way to conceive, but no, not Abbey, she still managed to catch him off guard.

But if he was being entirely honest, he was more relieved.

Upon his words, she looks at him for the briefest of moments, then scrunches her nose up, staring down at the cover again. "I want you to go back to Dauntless." Eric begins to shake his head, but she keeps talking, "…find a pretty girl to make you happy, who is strong, and you can have the perfect family with. You deserve it, Eric. You would make a great dad."

Eric scoffs, "Can you even imagine me as a parent, Abbey? Don't be ridiculous."

"I have thought about it, actually," she smiles. "I wanted them with you, for years." Her confession stumps him. "But I think…" she trails off for a minute in thought. "…I think we got our lines crossed. I think we were only ever meant to be friends. We just got a little confused along the way."

"No, I think you're right," Eric says indifferently and she glances up at him. "I could go back to Dauntless and find a pretty girl to have a family with." He hears Abbey audibly swallow. "But I won't. Because I don't just want a pretty girl, I want the girl I've been with my entire life for as long as I can remember. And I know she wants that, too."

"What if in a few years you decide you want kids and… I can't give that to you?"

"What if? You're going off of a what if?" Eric sits up, taking one of her hands in his, placing it against his chest. "You feel that?" Of course she does. "That is yours, Abbey, all of it. And I can tell you now, there is no space left for anything else, you're it." He shakes his head at himself. "I know I can be a massive dick, I sometimes say things that I don't mean, and I can be hot-headed. But I know I mean this." Abbey turns her head away from him, trying to pull her hand away but Eric refuses to let go. "You remember that story about the moon and the sun? Well, I'd happily give you every single day in the sun even if that meant leaving me in the dark for eternity, and I mean it."

Abbey smiles, "That's probably the most romantic thing you've ever said."

"It takes years of grueling practice." She laughs at him, and from the sound, the words tumble from his mouth, "Let me prove everything to you. Marry me?"

"Seriously?"

Eric couldn't say the position they were in right now was idyllic, her covered in some tatty throw, and him naked and disheveled on her decrepit couch. But for them, it seemed spontaneously fitting. "Kick my ass for the rest of my life, Abbey. Call me a chicken shit until I'm eighty. Hug me constantly in public so I can pretend I don't like it. Grope me inappropriately just for the hell of it. Just marry me you annoying, obnoxious, and emotional woman."

Abbey beams for the first time in the days that he's been there. "On one condition."

"Go on…"

"No more pushing me away with shit excuses or reasons. Bad things-"

"Always happen when we are apart," he finishes for her.

Suddenly, that mystical energy Abbey seems to always possess is back. She rolls her lips to hide her smile. "I want you to get down on one knee."

"Oh, fuck off." That was quite enough for one day.

Soon the corn field would be harvested. The tall plants stood taller than Eric now, flourishing after the recent storms and plentiful sun. It was the announcement that the heatwave plaguing them for months was finally faltering, pushing them to the beginning of Autumn.

Abbey clutches the letters Eric had written in her clammy hands, ducking down low between the harvest. Glancing down at the familiar writing on the page, she pants out, "Please reply. I miss your criticism on my work life, the abrupt, airy comments on how my-" She squeals when she sees Eric appear suddenly, taking off in a sprint, laughing uncontrollably. Over her shoulder she calls out, "I never knew you were so poetic, Eric!" She takes a sharp left, pushing the drooping leaves out of her face as she ran, using the other hand to hold the front of her dress up with no idea in what direction she had taken.

She's grabbed by the waist, spun on the spot, and tumbles over, pulling Eric down with her. He catches himself, strong arms either side of her body, a killing smile on his face. "I'm more than just poetic, Abbey."

"I'm surprised, no rhyming words about pussy poppy or the deliverance dealer."

"I was fourteen you ignorant shit." Eric takes the letters from her hands, crunching them into a fist and throwing them to the side. He stares down at her for an extra long minute, his eyes roaming across her body and she instinctively arches as the heat begins to pool in her stomach.

Eric's rough with her dress, the pretty buttons littered down the front almost yanked off. "Eric, wait!"

"Why would I wait?"

Abbey grips either side of his head as he scours her skin, skimming around her breast. It wasn't to stop him, she lived for the sensation. Instead, she tilts her head back up to the sky, a wisping cloud above them, the warmth of his mouth more prominent and sensitive. Her mouth parts when he bites, his hands still working her dress down to her waist. "Next time I see you, we'll be getting married. The next few days are going to drag."

"Jesus, Abbey. Couldn't we have had this conversation over breakfast this morning?"

"Well, you're about to eat me, so same thing-" Eric lifts her almost off the ground shuffling back up to her eye level. Now bare, she sucks in her lower lip in anticipation of his next move.

"Shut. Up." He kisses her sloppily, unclasping his belt buckle and pulling down his pants. His face is pushed into the crook of her neck and she holds onto him as he thrusts.

"Ow!"

"What?"

"Something pricked me…"

There were a few things that Eric needed to do back at Dauntless. He'd left the arrangements with Abbey and her friends, but he would always be clued in on the plans by frequent updates.

His first big mistake was giving Abbey a phone, she was like an annoying child with it.

Halfway through his meeting that he had scheduled with Jack Kang from Candor, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Lauren looks over at him skeptically, knowing just as well as he did who it was.

He clicks on the swirling icon for the picture to download, and bit by bit the image comes onto his screen. It's Abbey's tits. He hides it a bit better from Lauren but she's already laughing. "Bitch…" He breathes quietly over the photo, and he replies back with exactly that.

Lauren kicks his foot under the desk as Jack prattles on in front of them. "You ready for tomorrow?"

"What's tomorrow?" he jokes. But it was a certain fact that this was a huge thing and the rumors of the ferocious Dauntless leader marrying an Amity on Amity turf, had gotten around like wildfire. Abbey had to even make it worse by sending out invites to relevant people. They were evil looking things with dried flowers attached to the front and fancy writing, but all in all, Eric was taking it like a man.

They were traditionally staying apart until the ceremony tomorrow morning. The next time he saw Abbey she would be walking towards him, and then he'd be giving her his second name. At long last…

Eric's best 'man' was Lauren.

"Remember you're not in the office all evening, we've got to get there on time tomorrow. That's like, my one responsibility for this whole thing," Lauren whispers.

His phone vibrates again and it's Abbey blowing him an exaggerated kiss and he smiles to it. His reply is simple this time, "See you tomorrow."

"You got this, man," Max claps him on the shoulder as he jumps down from the trucks, then the ex Dauntless Leader is helped away by a guard as he limps, still trying to pretend that every step wasn't complete agony.

"'Course I got this." Eric's uniform is far more fancier than usual. He even had his name stitched on over the right breast, the flickering flames of Dauntless patched onto the other. It's a stifling feeling though that overwhelms him and he pulls up his collar. Lauren's quick, coming from behind and flattening it again.

"Now that is a move of a nervous man."

"Stop making assumptions about me, bitch." Lauren just smirks at him. He scans quickly around the area, a few Amity with happy, welcoming faces watch them, and he wipes at his mouth under their judgment.

"So, gone is the man that denied Abbey was more than his… entire sole existence," Lauren begins talking again, walking with him to the outdoor arrangement that Abbey had been working on.

"Stop right there," he warns her. "I don't need your twisted words."

"I'm just pointing out that I was right, all along… That I might just know you better than you think."

Eric can't reply and swears under his breath at the approaching forms of Abbey's god damn parents. "Eric," they greet him with smiles. "Looks like we won't be medically removing anything of you, after all."

"It's nice to see you again, Debby. Ben," Eric nods. The next minute, Debby is moving forward and taking him in her arms.

"You are like a son to us, Eric. I would go into more detail but I wouldn't want that to be weird now, considering your circumstances." Eric just scoffs, imagining Abbey coming out with something similar and awkward. "Your parents would have been extremely proud of you."

"You look after our baby girl now." Ben puts a hand on Eric's shoulder, squeezing somewhat. "That task in itself…" He begins laughing and so does Debby, sharing some sort of private joke. "Is, ah, well, let's just say, good luck."

"That's comforting." Eric squints at their retreating figures, shaking his head. Taking one deep breath, he follows the line of people flocking towards, what he gathers, is where their small ceremony is being held. But having passed the barn, the flowered archway over a platform and lined walkway with chairs either side come into view. "You've got to be shitting me," Eric speaks to himself, pocketing his hands and hesitating.

There are flowers everywhere.

"Five minutes, people!" Johanna is signaling and helping people to their seats. Some sort of baggy clothed man stands waiting on the platform, smiling to a group on the front row. Bizarrely, Eric feels slightly stricken that his parents are not here. His parents liked Abbey. They would have loved to have seen this.

He looks over at Abbey's parents who talk quietly among themselves, her friends, and the Amity around them. He wonders if she had infected their lives as much as she did his. Of course she has. Abbey had enough charisma for ten people; the not bothered attitude, and the hidden brains that were always covered up by her loose mouth.

He smirks at that thought.

All eyes are on him right now as he strolls up to the front. He turns on unsteady legs to face them and hardens his gut. He will not let an ounce of nerves get the better of him. All these people knew of his affection for the girl, what else was there now to hide?

Lauren joins him to his side, prim in her own uniform and loving every single second of this. She looks at him.

"Don't utter a single fucking word."

"I was just going to say that the flowers really do a great deal for your image."

Eric doesn't retort, instead, he watches Ben leave the front row and that's how he knows Abbey is about to arrive any minute. He turns a steely look; a scowl at the junked up and super friendly guy on the platform they are on. "Get straight to the point," Eric tells him. "No stuttering and shit."

"Certainly." He bows his head.

The sweat is now trickling down Eric's back.

The single soft voice of a young girl begins carrying from behind him, but he dares not to turn around, though he can hear the cooing from people in the crowd. He couldn't remember exactly how long he was supposed to leave it, he wasn't listening all that well to the plans Abbey rambled on about, but he takes a random guess.

Nobody is looking at him anymore. Abbey is extremely nervous, a simple bouquet tightly gripped in front of her and her arm locked against her Father's who looks like he has pain which radiates from his face. Most of the time she seems to watch her step, her small ballet shoes sometimes peeping out from underneath the long flow of her strapless dress. It wasn't a heavy wedding dress, it floated and shifted as she moved. Her hair was braided back with a curl over each ear, and finally, when she gets to a reasonable distance near him, she looks up at him.

She smiles like she always does while the crowd and singing grow quiet around them, whispering, "I like your suit."

He smirks at her, turning his attention to the guy in front, keeping his eyes forward. "I like your dress." She snorts, and he glances over at her, just as the guy begins talking.

Eric doesn't remember any of the stuff the guy is saying from his notes he received from Abbey, but he was hoping he could fluke it. He was also glad that he had the crowd to his back, and it's only when he accepts her as his wife with a simple 'I do', and him as her husband while facing her, that he can feel the penetrating gaze of the people around them.

Fuck them all.

In a moment that seemed like a lifetime as they fumbled to place rings on each other that Lauren had handed over quickly, it's finally announced they are husband and wife.

They kiss quickly under their new vows.

The crowd suddenly roars, Lauren giving Eric a thumbs up, and Max shaking his head almost incredulously while he slow clapped.

Eric had finally married the girl. He married his lifelong crush.

But the both of them almost skip down the walkway to get away from the spotlight, though it was far from over.

Eric gets a face full of dry flowers pelted at him from Luka as he passes.

The dinner is in the dome, still made up with the benches they had previously there, but the cutlery laid out, and the tables decorated. They are halfway in and Abbey sips her white wine, nudging him with her elbow. "I didn't doubt you at all."

"Well, that's a straight up lie."

"Were you as nervous as I was? I actually thought I was going to puke. I was shaking."

"I had a little sweat going on," Eric admits. "Nothing I can't handle."

Abbey laughs into her glass. "Were you afraid I wouldn't go through with it?"

"Fuck no. It's all you ever gushed about for almost a week straight."

"I'm allowed to gush. I got to marry the most handsome man ever."

"You just want me for my body." That makes her laugh even more. Perhaps the wine had slightly gone to her head, it had his. Now that the adrenaline had dwindled, it seemed their bodies had become more absorbent. He wonders, out of the blue, how she would feel with him sliding his hands under her pretty little dress. The thought was surprisingly arousing and he coughs, leaning back and done with the food in front of him.

"Eric," Abbey whispers while he scans the gathering in front of him, using his tongue to clean his teeth. He only hums as a response. "I'm seeing a lot of forlorn here." He has no idea what she's talking about until he follows her eyes. He lands on Max and Johanna staring across from each other, over Johanna's husband, then Max drops his eyes to his lap.

"It's regret. A feeling I've felt, when I thought I lost you." He grins at her, "You're hard to shake."

"My pussy poppy will also be lost to the deliverance dealer if you carry on."

"Doubt that, love. She enjoys the ride too much."

"Is this our first marital dispute?" She doesn't look annoyed with him, it seemed more like a genuine but excited question.

"Won't be the last. Your ass is tied to me now by law." Eric's casually resting on the table with his arms as she leans into him.

"It means you married every little piece of me." He squints cautiously at her seductive tone. "Every little piece."

"Oh yeah, you're right. You gonna give me a sneak peak before later?"

Abbey sticks her nose up. "Not now that I've been made a proper woman. I could do a casual nipple slip, though." Her hands go to the front of her dress but he grabs them, just as her Father, Ben, stands up, clinking a spoon on the edge of his glass.

"Later," Abbey winks.

"…If I could just have your attention please, just for a moment. I have a few things I want to say." The crowd drops to silence, people halting on their food. "I want to thank you all for your contributions between the marriage of my wonderful daughter…" A few of the Dauntless whoop and Eric can hear Max's gruff laugh more than anything. "…And the young boy we've had the pleasure of watching flourish into a grown man. Nothing makes me happier than seeing these two together. Just like I did when they were younger and Eric couldn't trim his baby face properly."

"I never had a baby face," Eric whispers to Abbey, grabbing his drink and downing a huge mouthful to the laughter.

"Me and my wife, Debby, have always said that they were destined to be together, and nothing makes me happier than being able to witness that today. It makes me…" He halts, an uncomfortable, awkward, but emotional air falling around them, and Abbey leans over, touching her Father's arm. His eyes shine with unshed tears as he looks down at her. "… It makes me so proud, of them both." Abbey brings her hands up, wiping her face. "Thank you all again, for making this the perfect day they so deserve." The old guy almost tumbles back into his seat with the flooding of emotion, and thankfully, Max strains as he stands up.

"Let's all raise a glass!"

Abbey places her hand on Eric's through the chaos, knowing full well Ben was speaking for both of his parent's.

"This is incredible work, Jenson." Jeanine flips through the pages while hovering over her colleague's shoulder. "Where is this information from?"

"A subtle report from the Dauntless infirmary that caught my attention. Some bloodwork with mutant effects on a strain of serum that was firstly reported being from the factionless." The man, Jenson, almost dances in his seat over her appraisal.

"But why is there no follow-up or details? That seems peculiar." Jeanine scans the papers back to front carefully, turning her gaze back on him.

"There is restricted access from Dauntless. This is the only thing available due to a profile under one of the nurses there."

"So…" Jeanine lets the word hang for a moment before continuing. "Dauntless know of this slip of Divergence?"

"It clearly states-" he begins, but Jeanine shakes her head at him, locking her eyes on his and he shrivels back somewhat.

"There is no effect on simulations, what does that tell you?"

"I immediately thought Divergent, Ma'am. But the test clearly states the bloodwork was used on someone to neutralize a simulation serum from a bloodstream. That is not Divergent."

Damn, Jenson was ultimately correct. All recent laws will not justify her legally pursuing this on the brief underline of suspicious Divergent activity. She'd have to handle this a completely different way.

Jeanine considers him for a moment. "No. You're right." She reads the name of the donor, Abbey Ainsworth. "This is something else. Something far more dangerous." And maybe that's why Eric was being so distant with her and vile with any progress in their work. After all, he was the one to place the restricted access on the account and was marrying said woman today.

Her interest peaks.

Eric watches Abbey dance with her father, nursing a cup of Amity produced beer in one hand while seated in one corner. After the dinner, they congregated outside while they rid of some of the benches and tables from the dome and set up a band for the reception. Eric couldn't deny that it was the perfect day, and right now he admired the way Abbey peered up adoringly at her Father as they danced and spoke in between their rhythmic sway. What they were talking about, he didn't have a clue. But he knew Abbey was rat-assed drunk and it was highly amusing.

To his left, Max shuffles over, lowering himself gently into the seat next to him with a groan. "Looking back now, to how we were stood in the warehouse, we've come a long way." Eric glances at him for a moment, his eyes sliding back out to his wife. "You're a far braver man than I am."

"Bravery can be defined differently, Max." Eric watches Max look to his lap for a moment, arching his back in pain slightly, maybe over this conversation or his physical disability, both were justifiable. "What stopped you?"

"The same thing the arrogant boy back at Dauntless tried to swindle his own heart over, the job. But mainly I think it's the sense of responsibility, accepting a small part of weakness. That's some hard shit when you're trained to bypass all of that and let that shit go." Max shakes his head, "But the job can't fill the gap sometimes."

"Why did you never say anything about Johanna?"

"It's irrelevant now," Max dusts off the question with a hand. "She's been happily married for years."

"Happily?" Eric raises a brow and Max smiles tightly.

"You know what I mean. I don't want to cause trouble. I only ever wanted her to be happy and with me, it wasn't happening. My head was in the game… but you're something else. They beat it out of you in Dauntless but you've managed to remain able, kudos for that."

In the distance, Joel kisses Johanna's forehead, leaving the dome. She glances over in their direction and Max sighs. "Bravery would be outing all of this to her," Eric motions with his cup. "Clear the air." He hesitantly talks, not used to giving such advice. It made him feel ridiculously awkward.

Abbey's finished dancing and prances over, landing with a tumble onto Eric's lap. She smiles at Max while linking her arm around Eric's neck. "I think, maybe, I maybe think, I maybe might've drunk too much."

"Maybe." Eric smiles and Max laughs throatily to himself. "It's now or never, Max."

Max nods, standing slowly, and they watch him begin across the makeshift dancefloor towards Johanna.

"What's going on?" Abbey asks.

"Max is going to speak to Johanna."

"Oh." Eric grabs his beer, finishing off the rest of it and Abbey unexpectedly pecks his cheek. "So, husband of mine, the night is about to finish shortly, you got any fun games we can play?"

"I've got one that involves my belt and my dick getting wet."

"Are you drunk?" Abbey snorts.

He was a little. "I haven't had any alcohol all night."

"Me, too."

"Neither," Eric corrects her as she places her lips against his.

"Shall we call it a night?" She grabs his hand and suggestively puts it on her waist. "I'm ready."

"You wanna say goodbye?" 

She nods, standing up and taking his hand, pulling him over to her parents. "Just my parent's really, everyone else will continue I think for a while after we've left."

Her parent's faces are full of glee as they watch them approach, Debby standing to hug her daughter and Ben claps Eric's shoulder before shaking his hand. "You most both be exhausted. What a beautiful day it's been," Debby gushes.

"We're not too bad," Eric politely answers.

"I want snuggles with my husband."

"Abbey!" Eric scolds her.

"He wants to snuggle me, too."

"Snuggle?" Ben questions.

"Another time, dear." Debby touches his arm. "You two kids enjoy."

Eric rolls his eyes at their reference to them. Abbey sings, "I will!" as she pulls him away. They don't get two feet out of the dome until Abbey springs on Eric, clinging on to him and possibly ripping her dress as she laces her legs around his waist. "Don't forget, you have to carry me through the doorway properly."

"You're such a dick."

"Chicken-" She can't finish as he digs his fingers into the flesh of her ass, making her laugh. But her mouth Is back on his again, more frantic than before. "There was this really handsome man I married today." Eric smiles against her lips. "He was begging to be-" Eric pushes her up against Johanna's barn as they pass, and roughly, knocking the air out of her. As much as he devours her neck, she devours his, hysterically taking turns.

"Are we done with the romantic shit?" Eric stops to ask her.

"Totally done." She frowns when Eric takes a step back, looks towards the opening of the barn, and begins dragging her inside.

"Eric! I'm wearing my wedding dress!" He spins them, walking her backward blindly till she lands on top of a hay bale. Pushing her dress up, he disappears underneath it. "Nevermind…" she gasps. As her head rolls back, she spots movement from further inside. "Eric!" she whispers, and when he doesn't stop, she taps his head underneath her dress. "Eric, there's someone in here!"

Eric tilts back on his haunches, staring down to the multiple stables. "Let them watch."

"No!" Abbey hears Eric huff as she pushes him away and stands to readjust herself. She sneaks towards the nearest wall, then shimmies against it.

"What are you doing?"

"Shh!" There are horses in some of the stables, so no wonder nobody heard them enter. "I want to see." Eric begins shaking his head until he hears a familiar noise.

"No fucking w-" Abbey threatens him to keep it quiet with a stern look. They sneak so familiarly together, Abbey smiling over her shoulder as she leads the way, ducking past the stables and a random horse that sticks its head out from over its stable door. She almost screams, using her hand to cover her mouth and stifles a laugh.

Abbey's head peers in towards the open stable at the far end first, turning back to Eric with wide eyes and looking pretty pale.

"What? Is it-" Eric pushes past her, getting a full on view of Johanna riding Max – something he knew would scar him for life. Leaning slowly back to Abbey, he takes a breath, a smirk playing on his lips. Max and Johanna were so wrapped up in what they were doing, they never even noticed.

"That fucking son of a bitch," Eric whispers to himself. He should never encourage or give advice, ever again.

[miraculoussideblog]

Phase Eight Chapter 5

Summery: Three years after the failure of Operation Lovebirds, Alya and Nino’s relationship is tested when Alya comes across a startling secret.

Read Operation Lovebirds

Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [you are here]

[A03]

Chapter Five

Two Months Later

Alya sat at her desk transcribing her last interview with Marinette and Adrien before sending a draft into her editor. The book finally started to shape up nicely. Postponing the wedding until after the baby was born gave her more time to focus on her writing. She joked about eloping several time over past few weeks, but the down payment on Le Grand Paris Hotel was non refundable. Moving the wedding to a later date made more sense.

Her phone rang, Alya tore her eyes away from the screen and looked at her phone. It was Marinette.  

“What’s up?”

“Alya,” Marinette said, panicked. “There’s an akuma attack at the zoo.”

“Huh, I didn’t get an alert.” She checked her phone. The akuma attack app had nothing on the radar.

“Uh…it just happened...like right now, hurry.”

Something was off. If there was an akuma attack, Marinette would immediately transform into Ladybug, not make a phone call. The akuma attack app usually reports within minutes of the first sighting. And lastly, Marinette hated when Alya showed up to the battles, now more than ever. This just didn’t sit well with her.

“Why are you telling me? I remember you saying and I quote ‘I can’t have your pregnant ass running around Paris while some weirdo is shooting laser and transforming people into God knows what.”

Marinette paused. “I never said that.”

“I’m paraphrasing,” she shrugged. “Spill.”

“Uh, you know I’m terrible at keeping secrets.”

“True,” she agreed. Though, Marinette did keep the Ladybug secret hidden from her for six years.

“Just get to the zoo, now.” Marinette hung up.

Alya sighed and closed her laptop. Whatever was waiting for her at the zoo could not be good.

Locked up and made her way to the zoo. The app still hadn’t sent a notification. She searched all of the news sources on her phone, and...nothing. Something was definitely wrong. No one was running and screaming. No tackily dressed supervillain shouted from the mountain tops their intention. Actually, the closer she got to the zoo, the less people she saw. She walked up to the gate, there was no one in sight. Alya tried to call Marinette, but she wouldn’t answer.

There was no akuma attack, why was she sent here?

“Alya?” A voice called. Nino jogged towards her. He looked nicer than usual. He wore a white button down shirt, very well fitting blue dress pants. Wait were they tailored?

“Nino,” she said once he was closer, “what’s going on?”

“Come with me,” he took her hand and led her forward.

“What’s going on? Why are your pants so nice?”

“It’s a surprise follow me.”

“I hate surprises,” Alya pouted. The zoo was completely deserted for a Sunday afternoon. Whatever Nino and Marinette were planning it they couldn’t have done it alone. Her Dad had to be involved.

Nino stopped in front of Lady’s cage. He let go of her hand and smiled.

“Talk,” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And don’t give me that stupid look. Where is everyone? Why did Marinette lie to get me here. And the zoo of all pla--” Nino cut her off with a short kiss. “Okay, now you got my attention.”

“Good,” he snapped his fingers. La Vie en Rose played on the loud speakers. Nino got down on one knee and took Alya’s hands into his. “Alya will you marry me?”

“Babe, we’re already getting married.” Alya chucked. She tried to help him up but he wouldn’t budge.

“No, will you marry me right now? I don’t want to wait another day, week or month. Honestly, I can’t even wait another hour. Let’s do this.”

“You’re insane,” she rolled her eyes. “We can’t elope now, families will kill us.”

“Actually,” A voice said from behind her Marinette stood behind her holding a large garment bag. “You won’t technically be eloping. You’re family is here. All you need is the dress.”

Alya turned on her heels. They were dead serious. “You planned a surprise wedding without me?”

Nino smiled. “You always like my grand gestures. And I thought, why not take a shot in the dark. You did say you wanted to elope.”  

“Nino…” Alya began to cry. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones taking control, but she could not stop wailing. Her thoughts were clouded by her emotions. She could barely get out a coherent sentence, babbling on and on about the “fucking zoo” and “fifteen hundred Euros.” She pressed her head against Nino’s shoulder.

“Did I go too far?” Nino patted her back. “We can send everyone home, no pressure. I just thought--” Alya cut him off with a kiss. “Oh. So you do like it?”

Alya wiped her tears. “We are still having a wedding at the Grand Paris Hotel eventually. I am not losing that down payment. But, if I had to wait another day, week or month, I would have dragged you to the courthouse myself.”

“Oh thank God,” Nino exhaled. “I was worried for a second.”

“You know,” Alya wrapped her arms around Nino’s neck. “I’m getting tired of this fucking song.” She kissed his nose. “If this plays at our son’s birth, I will strangle you with the umbilical cord.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “Aww, I’ll change your birthing playlist.”

“Come on lovebirds, break it up.” Adrien’s voice said from behind. He appeared next to Marinette wearing a very expensive looking suit. “We have twenty five guest wondering if this wedding is even happening or not and Alya’s father to throw Nino in the panther caged if it doesn’t happen.”

“Tell everybody to hold their horses,” Alya said. “The wedding is on.”

Marinette whisked Alya away for over two hours to get ready for the ceremony. Nino assured the guest, and himself, that she was still coming. The surprise wedding was one of his most reckless decisions in their relationship, but he was glad it paid off.  

The wedding march began to play.

It was time.

Do to it’s last minute nature, there was no real wedding party, just Marinette and Adrien. They walked down the aisle first, looking disgustingly adorable as always. They took their places at their respective side of alter. The wedding guest stood up.

Alya walked down the aisle with her arm looped around her father. She was a vision in white. The dress Marinette made was gorgeous. The empire waist dress didn’t hide her pregnant belly. The white chiffon gently flowed over it. Under the bust was a light silver trim, that accentuated her now much larger breasts. How their friend made a dress for her without knowing proper measurements was beyond him. Luck was just on her side.  

Alya and Otis stopped in front of the alter. He kissed her cheek, before giving Nino a subtle nod.

This was it.

He lifted her veil. Alya slowly looked up at Nino. This was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

The minister started with a few words about marriage. Nino could hardly pay attention, was lost in her eyes.

“Now, I believe the bride and groom wrote their own vows.”

Vows?

What? This was supposed to be a standard. “Do you take person to be your lawful wedded whatever mumbo jumbo.” He didn’t write vows.

“I’ll start,” Alya pulled a piece of paper out of her breast and winked. “Oh I’m sorry, are you unprepared?”

“You didn’t…”

“Payback’s a bitch, babe.” She glanced over at the minister. “Sorry.” She took a deep breath and unfolded the paper. “Six years ago, at this very zoo, a scared fifteen year old girl was locked in a cage with a boy she thought of only as a friend. Three years ago, she convinced the same boy to pretend to date her to bring their best friends together. After a series of almost comical events and a few life lessons, she’s standing before that boy in front of God, their friends, family and a bunch of smelly animals. Everything happens for a reason. I never thought that afternoon at the zoo would trigger a chain reaction that would bring us back here...to the zoo. But...I’m glad it did.” Alya took his left hand a slipped a wedding band on his finger. “With this ring, I promise to love you and stand by your side for the rest of our lives. To take care of our son, in sickness and in health. We are stronger together. I love you.”

Nino wiped the tears rolling down his face.  Damn she was good.

“Nino,” the minister looked over at him. Adrien tapped his shoulder and handed him the ring.

Shit.

“Alya, you know I’m not good at improvising. You put me on the spot.” Nino took a deep breath. “But, I guess I deserve it for...this.” The guests chuckled. “I’ve been in love with you for six years. Even when I didn’t acknowledge it, there was a part of my heart that belonged to you. Now you have all of my heart, and I have yours.” Nino slipped the ring on Alya’s finger and kissed it. “With this ring. I promise to be the best husband and father I could be. I will love you and for the rest of our days and fight by your side no matter what. I love you.”

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the groom.”

“What?”

Before Nino could say anything else, Alya dipped him backwards and planted one on him. Camera flashed like crazy. Nino closed his eyes and kissed her back. She pulled him back up. “Phase eight, complete.”

“Now,” the minister announced. “I present to you for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Césaire-Lahiffe.”

“So,” Nino kiss Alya’s temple, “what’s phase nine?”

Alya took Nino’s hand and placed it on her belly. “I guess we’ll find out soon.”