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mythicandco · 3 years ago

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A Random Rant About Belos (Again)

I have a headache so instead of sleeping to make it go away I’m gonna drink some water and drink some TEARS

(Side note: Belos’ tears taste like pencil shavings and bird crap. Would not recommend.)

Anyways I’m just gonna ramble about the Edward/Philip/Belos/Hunter dynamic for a little while, including my own version of events (which is pretty much shared by eighty-five percent of the fandom) and some stuff that is so obvious but I want to talk about it so that I don’t have to think about it anymore. Why didn’t I just put this into a Google Doc-

Spoilers so everything is under the cut

For the sake of my sanity we’re calling the unnamed Wittebane brother Edward. Edward Carlos Wittebane. Why not, the TOH team can’t prove us wrong for another couple of months so we can do what we want.

Alright, lets start with the relationship between Hunter and Belos. It’s FUCKED UP, people. I am I firm supporter of the Philip = Belos theory (if you couldn’t already tell ;w;) and Hunter being a Grimwalker means that Belos had “the bone of ortet” (EDWARD’S BONES!!) ready for use. WHO KEEPS THEIR BROTHER’S BONES JUST LAYING AROUND?! I mean, Belos does, I guess.

There is no doubt in my mind that Hunter is a Grimwalker. I will be seriously surprised if he doesn’t end up being one. (I’ll be surprised in a good way. But still very surprised.) His reddish-violet eyes, the check mark on the adolescent stage that Belos had in the book, it’s very unlikely he’s writing about a different Grimwalker (oh brain please no). The nose shape of the Grimwalker also matches Hunter’s, which I’m wondering is a coincidence given that Edward’s nose also just happens to be shaped like that. Makes me wonder if Hunter is the first Grimwalker (at least in a very long time), and those are Belos’ notes. It’s not impossible.

Either way the way Belos treats Hunter is not okay. It’s practically unanimous that Belos is a terrible parental figure and is manipulating Hunter in one way or another. Personally I think that he’s mainly keeping Hunter alive for the Day of Unity, and doesn’t care about his feelings as long as he does what’s supposed to get done. Heck, Belos outright says that Hunter can be replaced! Even if he says it’d be a hassle. Still. He doesn’t feel guilty about abusing the poor kiddo and that’s why we see such deepset issues with Hunter’s character.

However there does seem to be a tiny sprinkle of genuine emotions in Belos’ one not-outwardly-violent interaction with Hunter. Unless it’s all completely emotional manipulation and I’m just seeing stars. But while Belos does seem to have little care what happens to Hunter in the long run, he appears to have a slight fondness for the kid. He shares a brief story about the Human Realm, Hunter is the only person we’ve ever seen him take his mask off for, and I think he likes seeing Hunter happy, even if it’s near the bottom of his “Most Important Emperor Things” list. If his ultimate plan for Hunter isn’t “Have a Sacrifice for the Titan” or “Have a Host for the Titan”, then I imagine he’d like to see Hunter make it past the Day of Unity and rule at his side.

What I’m wondering about is what leads Belos to be so terrible to Hunter, the literal CLONE of his brother who, as far as we can tell, he cared about and had a good relationship with? Who knows, maybe the TOH team with throw a huge wrench in our plans and make Edward an abusive brother or something, leading to Belos continuing that cycle by taking it out on Hunter (WHO HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT AT ALL!!). When Hunter finds out, or smol depressed man is gonna have an existential identity crisis and we’re all going to cry. We know we are. Either way, just my thoughts on that big ol’ mess. Everyone in that family has ISSUES. (And insomnia. You’ve all seen Belos’ eye bags, right?)

Now moving onto Edward, Li’l Rascal, and Hunter. (I’m probably gonna call the palisman “Red” more than once, so don’t get confused by that.) If Rascal is the former palisman of Edward, then it makes me wonder how they got that scar over their left eye (wait who else has a scar on the left side of their face that’s right BELOS) (I mean there’s really only two sides of a face that you can put a scar on, but still). It’s possible they got it in the cave-in during the disastrous Titan��s blood mission, but it’s also possible that if we’re taking the abusive brother route that Edward himself inflicted those wounds.

I’m not sure how that would make Red want to be Hunter’s palisman, but I guess it’s possible they sensed Hunter wasn’t as dangerous as he seems. I don’t have much else to say on this subject other than the idea that Rascal was probably gonna become Luz’s palisman until it spotted GG.

And finally an overlook of how Philip become Belos, because once again I believe in Philip is Belos supremacy--

Before continuing read this because it’s written and explained very well and covers a couple of the main options. I’ll wait. I don’t care how long you spend reading it, it’s worth it.

Okay so now that you’ve read that, I’ve narrowed the options down to five.

- Philip pulled a Science Man™ and either drank a potion or had a spell cast on himself so that he could preform magic without the use of glyphs or palismen. Since he’s human, he needs a source to take magic from, and that happens to be palismen. However the longer he goes on, the more “source magic” he needs, and 400+ years later he’s so degraded that he needs palismen just to stay stable, let alone preform magic.

- Philip pulled a slightly different Science Man™ and got himself trapped between realms. Whether it was accidental or Edward or someone else deliberately staged it, that’s up to you, but one way or another the weird black in-between goo slowly erodes away at his human form and, once again, he needs palismen to stay stable.

- Philip got himself cursed the good ol’ fashioned way! Either he angered a witch/demon or opened a magical box that was never supposed to be opened, or maybe the Collector was involved somehow, who knows (The writers know. The creators know. But they’ll never tell us.). The Collector could actually be applied to any of these scenarios with the right context, as seen here.

- The Titan somehow fucked stuff up. I saw this theory floating around a little while ago and it doesn’t seem too unlikely that Belos is only doing what the Titan says so that it will leave him alone. Or maybe he believes that his affliction is the cost of communicating with the Titan, and it’s a price he has to pay in order to stay in power.

- This is the most likely option: the writers sic a whole new idea at us and we love it. I have no idea what that could be, but I’m all up for new stuff I wasn’t expecting!

And thus concludes this almost TED-Talk, now if you don’t mind me I’m going to lay down for a little while and finish drinking my water. Good night/morning/afternoon/evening to you all.

#the owl house spoilers #toh spoilers #toh #the owl house #spoilers #keeping up with the wittebanes #philip wittebane #hunter #the golden guard #hunter the golden guard #little rascal #palisman #grimwalker #the wittebane brothers #speculation #theories #rambling

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galactic-pirates · 2 years ago

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Strange New Worlds - Episode 1

Paramount+ launched in the UK yesterday. As a side note I have a small amount of amusement as whomever designed the Disney+ website, did this one - they are identical! Anyway, the moment I finished the episode I had to login to raid so didn't have time to ramble. Let's see if I can remember stuff I thought!

So it's been 3 months since Discovery season 2 finale and Pike sure can grow a long beard in that time. I don't quite know what the logic was for showing that woman at Pike's cabin (establishing Pike is a ladies man??) especially as that's a recognisable actress and according to IMDB that's her only appearance in the show. Very strange (no pun intended haha).

Anyway, moving on. T'Pring has some major thirst for Spock. Although I confess my initial thought was why were they kissing with their mouths? I guess that was for the benefit of the casual audience as it would have made more sense as Vulcan's for their hands to be being all sensual. I read some dates and her "I won't chase you across the galaxy" kinda makes sense as isn't it like 8 years or something until the Kirk vs Spock pon farr fight?

Let's see what is next. Oh! I enjoyed the fact that Enterprise is getting patched up from the battle, all the crew are on leave unless needed, and Number One was like "nope, give me another ship I'm bored" as I got some major Eve Baird vibes from that. I watched the Librarians show premiere AGAIN the other day (I love it so much) and Eve's all "but sir what am I supposed to do for a month??" so yes very good.

Ortegas on the conn is something I want to see more of, with her dry wit of "why is it always when I'm in the Captain's chair" plus it's just the humour as well of the Captain, the first officer, Spock (who's basically second in command) just all on the away mission. Like yes lets just send our entire leadership down and hope nothing bad happens!

Oh I adored the humour and the banter between Chapel and M'Benga when they were chasing that guy around the ship. I also loved the little peek at Uhura's character. The dude was freaking out and she just chatted to him about something from his planet and totally put him at ease. Chapel practically didn't have to sedate him to be honest.

I haven't got a satisfactory answer off google and so I remain confused. Of all the characters (apart from Pike and Spock) then La'an was the one that got the most fleshing out this episode, so I'm guessing her backstory is going to be important to the seasons overall plot. However, I still don't get whether she's related to Khan or related to the scientists that created Data, or is it both? I watched Picard and when they went back to 2024 the Soong then pulled out a file which seemed to hint at Khan.

Speaking of 2024 I had a "can't quite believe they went there" moment when they showed footage with 'audit the vote' as a precursor to the second civil war and then world war three. To be honest that made me more scared than anything because it feels a bit too possible. While I would like the Star Trek future, I definitely don't want the nuclear armageddon they endured to get there.

Ok back to Pike and his soul-searching. Every now and then I find random bits on my hard drive and apparently after season 2 of Discovery I started a Pike fanfic. I had a "I don't remember this place" when I found the doc but it's a thing. Interestingly I had Pike as a prisoner in jail having done something very reckless because "if I know how I'm going to die, then my day is not today and nothing really matters" and then I was building up to basically Number One sitting on him and reaffirming what Cornwell said which is "you can't think like that, because knowing your fate doesn't give you God-like powers to just live through anything" as a bit of a reality check. This time it was a bit more subtle and La'an and Spock provided the nudge but it seems Pike got to a similar sort of headspace in the end.

There wasn't really enough Number One in this for me, and with her being the focus of the rescue mission (and then her injury) she didn't get to do anything badass either. However, I have seen some gifs and I know her moment to shine will come.

I liked the thing about consequences. I dislike that Starfleet command are idiots that don't understand them but I'm glad that Pike did. General Order Number One (aka the Prime Directive) shouldn't be a license not to clean up their own messes. As Pike said they had already interfered, so they needed to try and make it as positive as possible. The warp weapon wasn't part of their 'natural development' so letting them blow themselves up with it shouldn't be either. So good for Pike, but a bad look for Starfleet.

This was a solid episode. It had a good plot. There was some good character stuff, some humour. I wanted more but then I always do. I think they could have cut a few minutes of Pike and Spock at the start and given them to the other crew, but I'm hoping that Ortegas and the others will get their time in future episodes. That's the problem with decent ensemble casts, they'd need to double episode lengths to really give them the time they deserve.

Oh! One last thing I actually googled this after to make sure I hadn't misheard and I hadn't - Shuttle 'Stamets' I screamed because what a cool reference! I love Stamets and it was a nice nod. I mean as far as most people are concerned Discovery either never existed or was destroyed (I'm a bit fuzzy on which given the spore drive and wiping that from the records). But either way a little memorial to Stamets who is probably thought dead was nice.

I'm going to give this I think a 4/5 rating. That might go up or down on rewatches as sometimes context makes me feel differently about stuff. However, generally it was as positive and awesome as I'd hoped! Thus far I'm not disappointed and as I've kinda over-hyped this in my head, I am so relieved about that!

#star trek: strange new worlds

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kippykasey · 3 years ago

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Snowdrop Chpt 3

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5033

Series Summary: Bringing Zemo in to help fight against the rise of the new group of super soldiers brings in a new, yet famailiar face into the mix.

Chapter Summary: Sharon uses her contacts to find out information about Nagel. Meanwhile, Bucky and (Y/N) do a little catching up. Sharon's lead sends them to the docks to confront the man behind the serum.

Chapter Warnings: Episode level violence. Brief mentions of injuries and blood.

A/N: So this chapter took me a while and it kind of took a mind of it's own. There is a character mentioned in this chapter I can not take credit for and that will be 'Ghost'. Credit for that character goes to @darke-15 who is one of my favorite authors with an amazing story in which reader is 'Ghost', so big thanks for letting me borrow your character for a chapter!

Disclaimer: All languages that are not English were provided by Google translator with the translations following in bolden italics. Gifs used were found under the gif tab provided by tumblr.

Catch up on Snowdrop here: (1) (2)

“Well this is too perfect.” A female voice came from the hooded figure. Zemo turned around, The female sounding figure, while pointing the guy towards Zemo, reached up and pulled down the hood. The face revealed was familiar, at least to most of the group. “Drop it, Zemo.” Zemo set down the gun he had in hand while Bucky stepped forward looking confused. “Sharon?”

The blonde woman stepped forward, gun raised pointed at Bucky. (Y/N) moved to step forward but Sam grabbed her arm to keep her in place. “You cost me everything.” She mentioned in a low voice. “Sharon, wait,” something was kicked as she approached the four person group as Sam tried to explain what was going on to the woman, “Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Her head nodded to the side in understanding. “That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.” The woman’s eyes looked at Bucky like she blamed him. “So what are you doing here?” Bucky asked and his tone was almost gentle as he spoke to the woman. “I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass,” The gun moved to point at Sam then to Bucky before landing on Zemo again, “so that you could save his ass from his ass.” (Y/N) who was pretty hidden from Sharon’s view was smiling at her comment.

“I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up. So I’m off the grid in Madripoor.” Sharon shrugged her shoulders finally lowering the gun. “Don’t blow smoke. I was on the run too.” Sam’s town was low and serious as his attention was focused on Sharon. “Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore. I can’t. My father doesn’t know where I am.” Sharon spoke and this whole conversation was starting to confuse the other woman who wasn’t around for the events that were being discussed. “Listen, Sharon was it? We need your help blondie.” (Y/N) tells her as she steps up into sight between Zemo and Bucky. Sharon looked her over as she let out a chuckle. “Please.” Bucky adds stepping up next to his old teammate. Sharon let out a sigh as she shook her head slightly. “This isn’t over. I have a place up in High Town. You’ll be safe there.”

Bucky, without asking or offering, scooped the nurse next to him up into his arms. “Don’t argue, you kicked off your shoes and I’m not letting you cut your feet on something.” The rumble of his chest reminded her of a time where the only person she could trust was him. She simply nods her head, glancing over the leather jacket to see Sam push Zemo forward. The group made their way to Sharon’s car that she drove over to her place in High Town.

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well.” Sam comments as he takes in the place the blonde woman was staying. “I thought if I had to hustle, I might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I’ll get for a real Monet?” She gestured to one of the paintings on display as she talked. “Ey easy. Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets.” Sam tried to correct her but Zemo cut him off. “No, she means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.” Y/N nods from Bucky’s side. “It’s true, Wilson.” She confirms before Bucky adds his own confirmation, “You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.”

“Okay guys, I see what you’re doing here. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” The southern man spoke, pulling out his phone to google the truth. Deciding to catch up with Sharon and Zemo who had kept walking, the lone female of the group giggled as she passed by Sam. “Yeah. What’s google say?” Bucky asked, patting his friend’s shoulder as he passed following his old partner. “No shit.” Sam muttered before Sharon called back to them to change before her clients arrived in an hour. Sharon left the men with a cart of clothes before dragging the other female with her to another room to change.

Sharon led them back into the main room where the three men were left. She commented on Sam's change of clothes, or middle of change considering he was still shirtless. Y/N, now dressed in a navy blue dress pant-suit that was surprisingly comfortable and easy to move in, moved to sit on the couch next to Bucky. She reached over to smooth out the lapels of the black jacket the former soldier now wore. She could hear Sam questioning Sharon about why she never came back and how Sharon would be locked up if she returned. Yet hearing Sharon talk badly about the shield drew the nurse’s attention to her rambling about hero business being hypocrisy. “He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo comments holding a drink in his hand. “By the way, how is the new Cap?” Sharon asked making Bucky’s eye’s roll as he replied, “Don’t get me started.”

Sharon scoffs as she moved towards the couch. “Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” The silent nurse shifts uncomfortably as she listens to the conversation. “Before you were his pet psychopath you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” Bucky could probably feel the tension growing between the two females that were now seated on either side of him. “Wow. She’s kind of awful now.” The 106 year old man’s face was blank as he glanced up at Sam who was adjusting the neck of a shirt deciding it best to change topic. “Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum.” Sharon shakes her head at the statement “You guys really should steer clear of all of this for your own safety.”

Y/N stands up rubbing her palms over her hips before stepping around the couch to stand behind Bucky. “Sure there is a risk sweetheart but until I… we find out who cracked the code,” She started correcting herself as she spoke. Although his face was as blank as ever a metal hand reached up and back to rest on the hand just next to his shoulder. It wasn’t much but the nonverbal comfort that was given was enough. “We got a name,” the dark head of hair leaned back till the nurse could see the blue eyes she had known for years, “Wilfred Nagel.” Sharon’s eyebrows scrunched together before she moved off the couch, “Nagel works for the Power Broker.”

Sam bargained for Sharon’s help in exchange for clearing her name. Meanwhile the nurse was behind Bucky muttering, “We don’t really need her. Just give us a few hours and we can do it ourselves.” The small tug of a smirk against the stubble jawline of Barnes could be seen before he shook his head slightly. “Trust, doc.” His voice rumbled like low thunder as he spoke to her. She was never one to jump full into a plan without looking at all possibilities, which is why Steve always liked her opinion back in the war.

“They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met.” Sam’s comment on Bucky drew the nurse’s attention back to the main conversation in the room. “I heard that.” Bucky comments as the nurse moves back around the couch to sit back down next to her dark haired friend. “I don’t trust charity.” Sharon mentions. The nurse groans dramatically, making the room turn towards her. “She’s as stubborn as Peggy. Look toots, it’s not a hand out. You’re doin’ a job. You’re going to help us and in exchange bird-man is gonna get your name cleared.” Sharon took that as a deal and agreed to help using her sellers as a network to find out what she can, leaving instructions to lay low and blend in before she heads to the front to start greeting guests.

The four still sitting in the back didn’t move for a moment. Zemo was sipping from a tumbler, probably a whiskey, which Sam moved over to the other two. “So what did you mean earlier about you and Bucky being seen together?” The room again lulled into silence before the woman hummed and looked from her hands to Sam. “In the days of the Winter Soldier, seeing us together meant death, if you didn’t die that day you would die in a year. Seeing just me represented mercy, if you saw me alone the chances were the Winter Soldier wouldn’t kill you. That’s why I was Snowdrop. The meaning and folklore around the flower was my duty, besides keeping the soldier in prime condition”

“She also was his partner. On a mission if she was not nursing an injury it was her job to cover his right side, the side deemed weaker without the metal arm. She was trained to stay out of his way but move in tandem with him, like magnets.” Zemo added to the woman’s explanation. The nurse stood up from the couch. “It’s in the past. I am not Snowdrop. Just like Bucky is not the Winter Soldier. I’ll see you gentlemen out there.” She left the three men in the room alone. Sam turned his head towards Bucky silently asking if there was more to the story. The man shook his head pushing up from the couch. “Come on, we should blend in.”

The music was definitely not anything Bucky or Y/N were used to. The two war vets met by the bar, both nursing a tumbler of whiskey over ice. “Where did you go after you got out?” If it wasn’t from years of memorizing the tone and every aspect of the voice talking to her (Y/N) might not have heard him over the music. Her eyes glanced up at his as she stepped around to his left side, a nonverbal ask of permission to touch his arm. The man let out a soft grunt, raising the glass to his lips. Sliding into the spot next to him and placing his arm around her waist for casual onlookers she leaned up to talk.

“They were going to use me to get you back, Zemo let me out when he found out HYDRA’s next plan for us. They were going to force Project Chroma onto me...us. I was to be transferred to the lab when my escape happened. First thing I did was go home. Security sure has changed in the years. I saw the war monument in Washington. I got to see the tribute made out to Rogers at the Smithsonian where you were mentioned." She bumped her hip gently against his and even caught a small smile before it was covered by the glass of whiskey. She took her own sip before continuing, walking with the man as he led the way around the outer perimeter of the room. "Most action I got to see since my escape besides what is going on now was the slight trouble I got in with my new hacking hobby and helping someone." Bucky's blue eyes glanced down at her. "I shouldn't be surprised you always were a bit of a tech nerd. What about this person you helped? That's dangerous for you right now until you get pardoned." His hand brushed over her lower back as she turned to face him. "Now listen here James I made an oath when I became a medic, I was going to help everyone I could if I was able to so that's what I did. Now hush or you won't get the story before Sam tracks you down." From the way her eyes darted across the dance floor Barnes knew she had a location on all of their friends. He nods his head pressing his lips into a firm line.

"Zemo called me. Needed me to be ready for a job he was doing. Flew me out to Vienna, Austria. I was there the day you were framed for that bombing Buck." She rubbed a hand over her face thinking back on the day and how worried she got for him after that day. "I was okay, sugar. Now tell me about this kid you helped." Bucky soothed pulling her closer the way his arm felt around (Y/N) was always comforting to her. Maybe it was how safe he made her feel and knowing the damage that arm could do. Her fingers brushed over the metal plating of his left hand.

"They sped up on this bike, jumped off it and were heading straight for the building like they knew what was going to happen and needed to warn everyone. They never made it inside. The explosion, it...it seemed to trigger something and they froze. Just standing there. Something fell from above, a piece of concrete you know the kind with the support pipes, it caught them on the way down. Person was unconscious and more debris was falling. I did the only thing I could think of, took them back to my hotel a block away, away from curious eyes. They woke up when I was laying out the first aid kit.

I nearly got punched in the face if it wasn't for working with you. Stubborn kid that one was, laceration from shoulder to inner elbow on the right side, dislocated shoulder, and there were already some previous injuries. The kid called themselves 'Ghost' so I told them to call me 'Grace'. Fixed them up and sent them on their way with the car I was using to get out of there. After that I went to Visit graves.."

Bucky was quiet for a moment before ducking his head down towards her ear. "Hearing someone call you Grace got to you didn't it?" He asked as his mind went back to how he felt when Steve called him 'Bucky'. "Amazing Grace, Ghost said the whole thing when they left. I didn't think anyone would remember me as Amazing Grace after the war."

"Wait, you're Amazing Grace from Steve's war stories?" Sam's voice asked in shock over the music drawing the faux couple out of their own world to let him join. "Best nurse you may ever meet. Plus she always sang for the injured soldiers. Got the nickname Amazing Grace because that was her go to song and some of the men started to think she was an angel." Bucky looked down at the blushing nurse next to him, eyes swimming with pride and fondness for her, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. Sam definitely took note of the change of attitude the grumpy old man always seemed to have after spending time with the woman who was so casually wrapped up next to the man that Sam wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't seeing it. The nurse patted the tall man's chest a few times before pointing into the crowd of partiers to where Zemo was doing his own dance.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

Sharon was able to find the man they were looking for but by the time the guest had cleared and the trip to the docks was made it was light outside. Small conversation was made as Sharon led the way. With word that she would keep watch Sharon sent them inside after handing over an ear piece to each of them. Sam opened the door to the container. Bucky and (Y/N) exchanged a look and there was something in his eyes that she knew meant that he was worried for her. The container was empty upon entry. Yet that was soon disproven by Zemo and his flashlight finding a secret door within the back wall. Zemo pushed open the door as the other three drew a gun. Sam moved to the font of the line followed by Zemo. Bucky kept an eye on the back with (Y/n) between him and the German man.

Music was playing, masking the sound of their entry. The hidden lab was dimly lit with fluorescent light casting a gray tinge over everything. The nurse took a silent deep breath as she took in the lab around her. She could remember the day Erskine brought her in see him work on the serum used on Steve Rogers. She could remember the failed attempts she had in the HYDRA labs and the even worse side affects her body went through upon testing. All the flashes of the serum in her brain and the trouble it caused made her uneasy for a moment as she took a small step closer to Barnes, his eye catching the movement and moving to cover her.

Sam and Bucky lead the way towards Nagel while (Y/N) stays at Zemo’s side. Bucky pulled the needle from the playing record making the music stop. Nagel turned from his workstation to find out why his music stopped only to let out a gasp at the sight of Sam standing there with a gun. “Dr. Nagel?”

“Who are you? What do you want?” The doctor questioned quickly, probably nervous. Sam rose his head slightly and his voice was gentle when he answered. “We know you created the super-soldier serum.” That did not trigger a positive response as the doctor stepped forward ordering him to “Get out of my lab.” The doctor walked past Sam as if to escort him out but froze upon seeing the former Winder Soldier standing there, dark ice blue eyes locked onto him. “You know who he is, right?” Sam’s voice was still calm as ever even as the doctor stepped back away from the direction of Barnes and turned towards the other blocked direction where Zemo and the nurse stood. “This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him too, right? Maybe even her?”

The doctor was escorted by Sam to the more open area. Zemo followed him as (Y/N) stepped up to the workstation to take a look at just what they were making the serum with. “You seem like a smart guy. So you better become conversational real quick.” A slight rattle drew her attention back to the doctor and the interrogation that would soon occur. “How about a counter proposal?” The doctor offered, “Make me a better offer and I’ll talk.” Sharon’s hushed voice came through the earpiece warning them of some company arriving outside. The lone female in the lab stepped forward into the doctor’s line of sight. She moved forward with a sweet smile on her face before reaching up to grab the collar of his shirt to force him down into a chair. “Look here doctor, I’m a pretty patient lady, but if you don’t start talking he’ll start shooting. Got it? Now I’m not too happy about you messing around with my serum.” There was a brief glance towards Bucky as she spoke to the doctor, a firm tone hardening her voice. She didn’t ever realize how she had referred to the serum as hers, which in a sense it could be after Erskine’s death she was the only one that knew how to do it.

When Nagel didn’t respond but just glared at her a warning shot was fired off behind his head before the gun moved back to pointing at the side of his head. “Okay, okay. I was brought into HYDRA’s Winter Soldier program to pick up her work, after the five failed test subjects in Siberia. When HYDRA fell I was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples from an American test subject with semi-stable traces of serum in his system.” (Y/N) listened, taking a small step back just barely catching a glimpse of a small head shake from Bucky as he looked at Sam. “After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary compounds in his blood. I was a god-” The woman standing in front of the doctor raised her gun aiming it right between his eyes as she cut him off, “You are not a god.” Buck made a nonverbal command for Sam to move over towards the nurse who seemed to be taking this harder than anticipated. “I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do.” The doctor completely ignored the woman as he spoke to Sam. Zemo moved from the woman’s side to walk around and look at the equipment in the lab. “But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines,” A dig at the radiation chamber used to help Steve, “or jacked up bodies.” A dig at Bucky. “Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Nagel. She wanted to punch him, it was almost like an insult to herself the way he spoke about her work. She had been there right next to Erskine the day Steve received the serum. She had given Rogers the morphine before he entered the chamber. She had read over Erskine’s destroyed notes so many times the day before because she was scared for the test subject’s safety. Then when HYDRA captured her and she was forced to start recreating it she refused to try it on anyone but herself. The amount of times a HYDRA agent found her near death was probably close to a dozen before she perfected it enough to start inducing it on Bucky. Sergeant Barnes was so weak the first time she gave him a shot of the serum, a test to see if his body could handle it. When she was contacted and brought back, it was a life or death situation that led to her giving the remaining required dose of the serum to Bucky.

“How have we never heard of this?” Sam’s voice brought her back to the present. Her eyes glanced over at the other super soldier and he was already looking at her. Bucky had seen her far off expression. He almost wished she was outside helping Sharon. “Because before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. Then when I returned, it was five years later, and the program had been abandoned so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.” The doctor explained the woman in the room taking a step back to recollect herself. She really wanted to put a bullet through this Power Broker at the moment. “How many vials did you make?” She asked as calmly as possible, trying to match Sam but she could hear how annoyed she was. “Twenty. Karli Morgenthau stole those, so.. Could only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl.”

“Where is Karli now?” Sam asked as the nurse looked over her shoulder at Zemo. The two made eye contact and in that moment a silent understanding was passed between the two. “I don’t know but a couple of days ago she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. Poor woman has tuberculosis. Typical of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.” Nagel explains as Zemo came back to rejoin the circle. “What happened to her?” Sam’s question didn’t get a direct answer since the doctor didn’t care to find out since it wasn’t his business. “Is there any serum in this lab?” Bucky questioned, looking down at the man. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he waited for the response. When the man did nothing but look at him Barnes pushed the barrel of his gun to the side of the man’s head earning a quick ‘No’.

“Now what?” Bucky wonders aloud looking towards the other three, not moving his gun from the man’s head until he sees Sharon enter. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” Sharon insists, her entrance being just enough of a distraction for Zemo to raise the gun he had found strapped under one of the lab tables and shoot Doctor Nagel. Sam pinned Zemo to the wall as Sharon knocked the gun out of the baron’s hand. (Y/N) quickly moved to the doctor, the impact of the shot having knocked him back in the chair and falling backwards. “What did you do?” Sharon asked in a panicked voice. The nurse checked for a pulse but the man was dead. “He’s gone.”

An explosion broke out as something shot into the lab. Bucky grabbed onto his old friend/partner and covered her from the blast as he dove out of the way. An emergency alarm sounded out against the slight ring caused from the explosion. Groans came from everyone as they recollected themselves to get up and move. Bucky and (Y/N) were the first to move onto their hands and knees given the enhancement provided from the serum. “You good?” Bucky breathed out as he struggled to get up. “M’fine.” She muttered using something near her to push herself up before helping him stand. Things were shaking, glass items clinking together. “This place is going to blow, we have to move fast.” She urged Bucky forward as she began to move both of them looking back at beakers of chemicals. “Anyone see Zemo?” Sam wheezed before (Y/n) helped him up from the ground as the chivalrous Barnes helped Sharon up. “Let’s go.” He ordered. The lab explosion happened right behind the two super soldiers that kept the other two moving.

The four now, without the sign of Zemo, were now outside where the company was waiting for the smoke to clear to take fire. “All right, wait for my signal!” Bucky instructed but went unheard as bullets started to ping off the shipping container around them. Sam shot back as he moved in a different direction. Sharon and (Y/N) followed Bucky around the other way, guns at the ready. It sounded like fireworks with the amount of bullets being shot through the air. Only a few actually hit a target. Sam was taking cover already when the three arrived, Sharon moving to cover Wilson as he reloaded. “And you like living here?” Sam asked in an exasperated yell to Sharon to be heard over the gun fire that sounded way too much like a war field. “It’s not terrible.” The woman behind Sharon scoffed at the answer as she and Bucky shot at targets in opposite directions, each covering the other’s blind spot.

Bucky’s gun clicked a few times proving it was empty. He let out a short frustrated yell, something (Y/N) wasn’t used to coming from him since way back in the days of the Howling Commandos when his gun would jam. He rushed back under better coverage calling over to Sam, “I thought we were going left?” Sam glanced over his shoulder for a moment to the man yelling at him.

“You went the wrong way!” Sam points to him as he yelled back

“I cleared the way!”

“I came out first. You’re supposed to follow me.”

“And where are we now?”

“Guys, not the time!” Sharon called back to them from where she was still shooting nearing the end of her ammo. From across from her (Y/n) was in the same situation as she called back. “We can sign you two up for couple’s therapy later!” The nurse called back completely unaware of the therapy session the two have already been through together. “I’m out!” Sharon called, ducking back out of direct fire. A moment later the other female ducked back too, “So am I.” The two men are still arguing over who should have led. None of them were prepared for a second explosion. Recovering from having to quickly duck and cover from the flames they all looked out to see a masked Zemo jumping into action taking care of the remaining men. Bucky tapped on Sharon’s back, “Go.” Sharon jumped into action and made a run for it, “Come on. Let’s go.”

There were still bullets being fired rapidly as they wove through the maze of shipping containers. Opening up an empty container to hide inside didn’t help as they were quickly located and shot at. Sam and Sharon were already inside. With his left hand Bucky broke off the metal lock bar off the container while pushing (Y/n) inside with his right. He used the bar to knock one man unconscious before turning, raising the bar like a spear and throwing it with the left arm with enough force to pin another person through their shoulder to a shipping container. “Come on, let's go.” Sam grabbed onto Bucky’s jacket pulling him into the container.(Y/n) walked through the dark metal box to the other side. Bucky bit the other doors with his metal fist before she could even lift her leg to break it open. As they stepped out of the container screeching tires alerted them to a fast approaching vehicle. Zemo rounded the corner in a supercharged Pontiac Firebird.

“You’re going back to jail.” Was the first thing out of Sam’s mouth as they all glared at the man. “Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo asked, turning his head away and then back to them. “He’s right. We need him.” Bucky looks at Sam as he helps (Y/N) into the back seat of the car. “There’s three of us and at least twenty of them.” The super soldier says as he gets into the car himself. “Fine but if you try that shit again.” Sam’s voice was hard as he pointed at Zemo while climbing into the back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo states as Bucky turns to glare at him.

“Well that was one hell of a reunion.” Sharon sighs, closing the car door for them. Sam tried to bring her back again but she refused to go without the pardon. That was when they parted ways with Sharon Carter. Sharon walked one way while Zemo drove off in the other heading back towards the airstrip to leave Mandripoor behind them.

#Snowdrop #bucky x reader #bucky x f!reader #fatws fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n

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k347 · 4 years ago

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Apparently Seb has no tattoos, at least not to the naked eye. What tattoo do you think Seb would choose to represent Chris? I don't see him putting his bf's name on his body do you?

I love you 💞@loricameback for asking this question. It's so thoughtful and interesting. I have actually thought so much about this, I could go on for hours. But still here are a few of my ideas- (this turned into a long headcanon and I am not even sorry about it 😅)

Sebastian is a fairly modest man. He admires beauty in the simplicity. A minimalist. I agree he wouldn't be the one to staright up get Chris' name tattooed. It would be something more subtle, deep, meaningful. Something that nobody else could decipher easily except for Chris and himself.

He would probably get a small shooting star tattoo on his wrist/ankle/behind his ear. It would symbolify their shared love and enthusiasm for astronomy. Also he'd tease and mention playfully how Chris is an angel fallen on the earth, a star from the skies that was sent to light his way in life. Chris facepalms and thinks Seb is pulling his leg for being a hopeless romantic. But the truth is Sebastian means it. He really does.

The other one would definitely be some eastern philosophical symbol that means peace. It is from one of Chris' favourite books by Eckhart Tolle. It explains the power of presence. Being in the moment, immersing yourself fully into the present.

Whenever his anxieties get too high, Sebastian looks at the tattoo and remembers the feel of his boyfriend's warm breath, ticklish feel of a full beard on the nape of Seb's neck and a hushed calm, soothing voice in his ear.

"This little symbol asks us to take a deep breath in. Let the reality of the moment sink in. Be grateful for existence.", Chris had told him. So he got it tattooed on the side of his forefinger. He looks at it too often when he is on press tours alone. It grounds him. Makes him feel at peace. A safety band aid that he wrapped in his palm forever.

It's like Chris is holding his finger and guiding him through as someone would to a lost child. Sebastian loves having this constant support and guidance. It also reminds him of Chris' being his lighthouse. The guiding light to follow whenever he feels he is lost and life is planning conspiracies against him.

There might also be another small, delicate but detailed tattoo on the back of his shoulder or at the bottom of his spine. Something honouring Chris' star sign. Maybe the Gemini constellation. Or maybe a beautiful tattoo of a single Lavender branch, since lavenders are known as a Gemini's birth flowers.

Sebastian had thought a lot about getting this one. Back in Romania, they used to have lavender festivals in the month of June when the flower fields are flourished and bloomed to the brim.

In his childhood Sebastian had learnt the meaning behind the gorgeous flowers from his grandmother. He might not have thought about the significance of it then but now as an adult he could piece all of it together.

Lavenders have multiple florets on one stem. They grow in different directions and spread their vibrant beauty all around. Similarly, Chris' true gemini heart and soul is blessed with the ability to always find his muse, astonishing creativity and productivity. But it can also get “all over the place” just like the flower.

The memories and comparisons of beautiful, expansive lavender fields Sebastian ran through as a kid fit perfectly with the expanse of Chris' big, strong emotions which he feels so deeply in his beautiful, generous heart.

That lavender tattoo had been his early birthday gift to Chris. A surprise in the middle of one of their lazy-afternoon impromptu makeout sessions. Chris had gotten all choked up with emotion when he realised what it was.

Tears in eyes, unable to swallow the lump in his throat, Chris had just pulled Seb in for another deep, toecurling kiss while his long, deft fingers gently roamed over the still sore skin on the small of Sebastian's back.

There had been obscene amount of kisses placed on that tattoo, with Chris filthily licking and singing praises to the dimples at the bottom of his spine. A lot of whimpering, almost pathetic moans escaping Sebastian's own mouth while his body floated with immense pleasure and rippling shockwaves.

After that they had somehow grown into using a lot of aromatic lavender essence oils, bath bombs and candles. This one little tattoo had opened so many doors of new experiences for both of them.

There's a saying, 'the beauty of Lavender is that it spreads itself far and wide for onlookers to enjoy.' They've used that line as an innuendo in the bedroom way more times than any one of them would care to admit.

So next time, if and when someone tries to tell him floral tattoos are not 'tough or manly enough', Sebastian might actually go and punch the toxic masculinity out of that person's face.

Chris laughs wholeheartedly whenever he hears this. He knows full well that despite of the obvious calm and sweet nature, his Seb has got zero patience for dumb comments and stupid shit like that.

Seb would never get in dumb frat bro physical fights despite of what he cutely rambles, but he would surely throw some sass and smart-subtle insults with deadass intimidating glares along that person's way. Rightfully deserved. Chris is only proud. And maybe even a bit turned on by the idea of that.

These small, permanent tattoos are a very well-hidden secret. Not for the world to know. Or the purpose of putting on a show.

They are promises exchanged between just the two of them. Silent declarations of love.

The fake/temporary ones Sebastian got for filming though, they're a constant topic of long running jokes.

Like that medal ribbon tattoo he had to get for the bronze. It had to stay with them for two long weeks and Christopher being the smug bastard that he is, had made probably a thousand inappropriate jokes about it.

Not just about the medal. Literally anything and everything he'd see hanging in anywhere. It had been an interesting week to say the least.

When Chris had himself admitted he couldn't shut up about it no matter how hard he tried, Sebastian had managed to do just that (by offering him the prize). So it had all actually worked out real swell in the end. For both of them.

The destroyer tattoo, when he got his mom's photo on his bicep, Chris had gone on and on about how much he admires Seb's love and devotion to his mother.

To the point, where seb had to remind him that the purpose of the tattoo was to make him appear as an intimidating, dark-ish guy not a nice, sweet mama's boy.

Chris chose to plainly ignore that comment and continued to gush over him. His own mom had texted him back only regarding how good she looked in the picture instead of freaking out over the flashy tattoo as expected. (Till this date, he suspects Chris had something to do with it). And Sebastian still couldn't be more thankful for having these amazing weirdos in his life.

It's really fortunate to be able to love and be loved back. The tattoos, they're here to stay. Just like their relationship. Forever.

After some heavy action and a few good rounds of going at it non-stop, his exhausted boyfriend loves to give him a light spank and say it'd be great if they ever got 'Property of Chris Evans' tramp stamped on his cute butt. Sebastian plays along and replies mischievously that someday he'd do just that and the look on Chris' face would be priceless and a sight he'd love to watch.

"Too bad you wouldn't get to see it then. I'd have your head buried in the pillows while you make all those pretty little noises for me, sweetheart", Chris muses darkly and Sebastian can't help the deep shade of red that spreads all over his skin.

Tattoos. Something Sebastian was originally never passionate about. Not that he hated them. He had just never thought about it before meeting and falling for Chris.

Now they mean so much to him. Hold a great importance. Make him feel special. Loved. Treasured. They're a source of inspiration too.

"Wear your heart on your skin in this life", Seb types out before closing the doc file that contains his yet unpublished story.

***

Note- I don't know jack-sh*t about astrology and star signs. Just googled a few terms for writing this. If you are an expert and any of these are wrong, kindly ignore and forgive the mistakes.

#evanstan #headcanon #Seb's tattoos #I hope the mentions of smut didn't ruin the emotion I wanted to put in it #either way #I'm just so happy I got the chance to write this.#THANK YOU Lorie 💞💞#You're the best #rpf #tattooed on my heart

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seasidewriter1-writes · 3 years ago

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Replying to @elizabeth0020 for: Hello!! I’ve always wondered how you decide what arcs/episodes you’re going to write? There are sooooo many, how do you know what’s a good one for your story vs one that isn’t? And a second question (if you feel like answering lol): how do you picture all the details you wrote? Like lighting, movements, facial expression etc? You’re so good at that and I’ve always been amazed at how you come up with them!

I love answering anything and everything, so never worry about sending me too much! I don’t often get to talk about the technical stuff (like the questions you’ve asked), so I love getting any chance I have to talk about them! (So hold on tight, ‘cause this is a ramble! 😂)

So, for the first question regarding the arcs... I picked out what episodes/arcs I thought were beneficial when I did my first watch through of the Clone Wars this past summer. I had a google doc that I wrote down all the episode names in, then jotted down the preliminary ideas. Let me tell you, with a show that has seven seasons of 20+ episodes, it was... so daunting to even think about narrowing down what episodes and arcs to use. It was what initially deterred me from using any of them at all. So I started to look for things that I felt would directly impact Elara, her character, and her development. For example, I didn’t really use all of “Cat and Mouse” because the episode, on a whole, wouldn’t have Elara much involved in it. It did, however, provide a wonderful backdrop for her time on Christophsis, which is why I didn’t nix it entirely. Aside from forcing Obi-Wan and Elara to be tied together, “Dooku Captured” and “The Gungan General” were used to introduce her to Hondo, whom both allows her to be more playful, and showcases her knowledge of the seedier side of the galaxy. And there are plenty of episodes that I love and adore that I just... don’t think would fit. For as much as I love “Senate Spy” and the introduction of Clovis, there’s no way for me to put Elara into that episode and not have it feel forced. That’s another huge thing I look for when picking episodes; if Elara doesn’t feel like she would naturally fit into the storyline somehow, even if it’s indirectly, I’m not going to force her into it. That’s when I do things like mention the events of the episode in a chapter (like with “Clone Cadets”) instead of doing a whole episode. So Clovis is obviously going to get a mention (she’s Anakin’s sister and Padmé’s bestie, of course she’s going to hear about the debacle), but the whole episode won’t be written out.

Then, of course, you have the arcs. The ones that I had immediately chosen are (and these probably come as no surprise): Ryloth, Mandalore, Mortis, Slavers, and Deception. The arcs I find easier to choose because you have a chance to work with more surface area so to speak. It gives me a chance to really flesh out Elara’s part in the story, focus in on her and her emotions and how she’s tied to this particular plot. With the Mortis Arc, for example––Elara is a Skywalker. She is strong with the Force, and in the “Balance” verse, considered a Chosen One. That ties her into the Mortis Arc very interestingly, since it’s not just Anakin going God Mode. It’s going to lend me the chance to really dig deep into Elara, her connection to the Force, to the Light and Dark (the Daughter and Son), and her relationship to being a Chosen One. At first I was like ‘holy shit I’m never gonna be able to do this arc,’ and then when I buckled down and really thought it over... I realized it’s going to be really important for her as a character, and particularly her relationship with Anakin (stay tuned!). It also probably comes as no surprise that a lot of the arcs (and episodes) that get picked are influenced by whether or not Anakin or Obi-Wan are in them. Which is why I almost turned a blind eye to the Umbara Arc until someone brought it up. I did a rewatch of it and knew I had to include it, too. Because that’s going to be an awesome opportunity to flesh out how close Elara is to the 442nd, and be able to contrast her ideals as a General against those of Krell. A lot of the picking of episodes and arcs ends up being trial and error. I wrote the first four-ish pages of “Clone Cadets” before I realized it just didn’t flow right.

All this being said, I like to envision Elara is around for all of the Clone Wars episodes, so I’ve got lots of fun little random snippets for things that I’ll probably never write, but figure would happen in some part of a CW episode.

And after all that, here we finally are at your second question! ☺️

Coming up with all those small details is actually an amalgamation of things at work. I do attribute a lot of it to my training as an actor/theatre artist. I think about how, if I were directing it, how I’d want the movements to look, and how that would translate on both a small scale, and a large scale. A touch of a hand for Obi-Wan and Elara can feel like a world shifting movement––but come off as nothing but a simple, friendly gesture to their fellows. On a small scale, what makes the difference is the way the touch happens. How light the pressure of the touch is, how long it lasts, how slowly their fingers brush against the other person’s hand... all those things help me figure out the mood of that touch and how they’d respond to it. Also, when choosing words to describe movements I often think about the attitude attached to it. A ‘turn of the head’ when Anakin’s being moody may end up being a ‘swivel,’ or the ‘arch’ of an eyebrow from Obi-Wan is more sarcastic than a gentler ‘raise.’ I often agonize picking out those sorts of words. I’ll sit there and try them over and over again, then put them all into a Thesaurus website because I worry I use the same words too much. The thesaurus (particularly when writing Obi-Wan), is my best friend.

When I write mannerisms for canon characters, I use a lot of reference for. I’ll literally just scroll through gifs, watch movie clips, or rewatch the scene I’m writing to pick up on character-specific mannerisms. A couple chapters ago I was describing Anakin’s angry face, and I just looked at images of him from Revenge of the Sith (him alone in the Council room, him being knighted as Vader, his expressions on Mustafar, etc.) I’ll also do this for vocal ticks/inflections. I will also unashamedly admit I will sit there and compose my face into whatever expression I’m trying to describe. Sometimes feeling it physically, or physically composing it helps me come up with words or ways to describe the look. Same thing with touches AND with vocal inflection. Do I sit by myself and read what I’ve written aloud in my best Obi-Wan Kenobi cadence? Yes, yes I do. And has it helped me figure out what words/phrases do and do not work? Yes, it absolutely has!

Also, a lot of describing the details of motion/facial expression/touch gets affected by music for me. Like, if you listen to “Stairway to Heaven” as played by the London Philharmonic Orchestra while reading, say, the scene in “The Gungan General” where Obi-Wan and Elara wake up pressed up to one another... that song is just THE feel of that moment. Listening to the right music when writing (the little details especially) is big for me. Kinda like how “Blue Monday” is the music that works best for the bunker scene in “Storm Over Ryloth.”

There are also a lot of details that I pull from real life. I remember when I wrote Elara seeing Naboo for the first time—and consequently grass, trees, and flowers, too—it was summer time for me. I was staring out at the trees and the way the light filtered through them, watched how they swayed... the grass had just been cut and the breeze smelled sweet... and I was like ‘god, imagine experiencing this all for the first time.’ So I took what I felt and elevated it a little, tried to add a kind of wonder to the things that we all, for the most part, kinda take for granted. I like pulling on experiences I’ve had in real life as a basis.

I ask attribute a LOT of my detail work to my training as a theatre artist. I think about lighting now differently than I did a couple years ago; because I learned what kinda of light fit different moods. Like the scene of Obi-Wan at Dex’s would feel completely different if I’d described the light as cool toned. It would lack a sense of hope. His reminiscences would be sadder, it would feel more stark. The warmer tones suggest that there’s still heart and hope, a possibility for things to get better, and that reflects his inner life better than colder, bluer light. Or how I used light when I wrote Elara seeing Watto again after 10 years to describe her struggle between Dark and Light in that moment. She stepped out of the sun and into the shade because, for a moment, she almost gave in to the Darkness. (Inspired by the scene in Force Awakens where Kylo asks for Han’s help and the light shines down on them... with hints of red low lighting to hint at the struggle... only to have the light disappear as he overrides his own vulnerability, reverts to the Darkness and kills his own father).

I also love using physical objects as emotional triggers, like is done in theatre quite a bit. A good recent example being Elara’s lightsaber. Obi-Wan having it reminds him of his worries regarding her safety, and his struggle with choosing what path to take in regards to his feelings towards her. Or Elara with the Snow Blossom. These things have the ability to spark different emotions depending on the situation. On a good day, the Snow Blossom will make her smile; on a bad day, it may make her feel more sad than happy. And sometimes they don’t have to be objects—they can be bruises or scars or healing wounds. Having something physical spark an emotional response can be really helpful, and has actually helped me though rough spots in my writing.

I could literally go on for hours about all of this kind of stuff! So thank you for asking about it and giving me a chance to discuss it even a little bit! ☺️

#mary talks balance #mary responds #my writing stuff #detail work #elara skywalker #obi-lara #balance stuff #fic writing

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thoughtsaboutshows · 4 years ago

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Prompt

Okay so I swear this was asked/commented somewhere but for the life of me I can’t find the ask or whatever it is. It was in my prompt google doc so I’m assuming I’m not crazy and it’s real...whatever.

This comes from a Post Part 4 world but things ended differently. VERY differently. Anyways, enjoy!

26. “I love you, but you need to shut up.”

The Sanctum was a mess. When Zelda Spellman had asked Nick to take point on reorganizing the books in the library, he had jumped at the chance. The High Priestess had wanted the ancient texts catalogued and arranged in a way that made sense now that the Coven was the Order or Hecate rather than the Church of Night. Nick had thought it sounded incredible, spending his days among the old books that had been his first friends when he arrived at the Academy. The scent of old books and ripples of deep-rooted magic were familiar and made him buzz with excitement.

But despite the warlock’s love for reading and learning, he completely forgot just how vast the library was and how the piles and stacks of books seemed to never end. By the end of the week and having spent nearly all day and all night in the dark space, Nick was starting to regret agreeing to the task. He had hardly seen the light of day in the last week and he hadn’t much crossed paths with his light of day, Sabrina Spellman. His beautiful girlfriend.

Nick hadn’t spent close to a night out of her bed since she’d given herself to him for the first time and nearly merged with Sabrina Morningstar. He’d become a near permanent resident in the Mortuary once the Void had been closed. Nick had never held her so tightly as when she was bleeding and barely breathing, close to death, but alive all the same. He’d muttered every clotting and transfusion spell he could think of until her skin had rid itself of its ashy color and become warm again. He hadn’t left her side since.

That was until he’d agreed to the Book Mission From Hell. The hours he spent working ran late so most times he found himself crashing in his old room at the Academy or a Sanctum couch when he was too tired to walk or teleport.

He was in an exhausted frenzy, separating books about ancient gods by year, when he heard footsteps approaching. He hadn’t had much human contact, conjuring food when needed, determined to get this job done so he could return to spending all of his time with Sabrina.

“Hey there.” Her soft voice pulled him from his focus. Sabrina was dressed down today, in jeans and a simple top, but to him she was a vision. Alive. She was like a mirage, an oasis in the desert of the pile of books he’d been trapped in.

“Hey there.” He answered her and kept his eyes on her movements as she kicked off the door and moved to hop on the table he was sitting at.

He didn’t know what to say, so he just started blurting out everything he was thinking. No one had really come to see him, so he had no one to bounce ideas off of. Did he put Lucifer in the history section? Which rituals were the focus now? Did they really need six copies of the false god’s book?

“Sabrina there’s just so much to go through.” Nick muttered on and on. Sabrina watched him with a quirked brow as the boy she loved rattled on about books she had never read. His face was contorted and she could feel his heart beating and lungs working in overdrive. He was in his work mode, and while she found it incredibly attractive that he was throwing himself headfirst into something and it reminded her of the days when he went diving in the ocean for a manifesto, she missed her boyfriend. She missed the comfort of his arms at night and the way he drew a sigh from her with a simple brush of his nose against hers. “And there’s books here, Spellman, that even I haven’t read. I think I’m gonna be in here all month. And don’t get me wrong, I have a stack going of books I’m going to take and study but there’s just so much we still don’t know and so much to learn and-”

“Nick.” Sabrina tried but the boy kept rambling. She used his full name then, knowing she only used it when she was serious or he was in trouble. “Nicholas.”

That pulled him from his rambling as he looked at her with tired and bloodshot eyes.

“I love you, but you need to shut up.” The corner of her mouth was turned up as she said it. She’d kissed his smirk enough times that one had found a home on her lips as well, and she wore it proudly. He was dumbfounded and stared at her so she hopped off the table and sat in his lap instead. When she rolled her fingers through his curls, Nick felt the tension in his muscles disappear immediately. He had no idea one person could be a never ending sense of calmness for him, but she was it, and she anchored him back to reality a million times over. “You need a break, and I need my boyfriend back.”

“Sabrina, there’s so much to be done.” He tried to tell her, but she brushed her lips against his temple and he felt himself losing resolve already.

“Yes, and it’ll still be there tomorrow.” Her fingertips danced across his face and she took a moment to count his freckles. When he’d leaned over her before going into the void, she was certain she’d seen the last of them. Now that they’d all survived, she counted them every day. “What good are you if your mind is in a million places. Imagine the books you’ll put in the wrong place.”

“I’d never do that.” Nick deadpanned with his typical charm and confidence. The Nick she loved was creeping back and she hoped he’d creep back to the mortuary with her. If only for a night.

“Even so, I miss you.” She shifted his face and held both of his cheeks and leaned in to kiss him. It was soft and delicate, but still filled him to the brim with love.

“I guess calling it early just this once couldn’t hurt.” She had swayed him and her bright smile lit up the dark corners of the Sanctum. “Let’s go home.”

She kissed him again and he could taste the smile against his lips. He knew she liked when he called the Mortuary home, so he’d say it over and over. The Mortuary was lovely, filled with warmth and homemade biscuits and laughter. But it wasn’t the building that was home. It was the witch that was kissing him and holding him tight.

The witch he had almost lost.

She was home.

And that home was forever.

#nabrina #otp prompt #fix it #part four didn't end in tragedy #he'll read books forever #Nicholas Scratch #sabrina spellman

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sweetest-honeybee · 4 years ago

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To Hell and Back

Chapter 31

Summary: Introducing a new evil hermit in the story and Doc nearly chokes BadTimes to death.

Characters: Doc, Impulse, BadTimes (Oscar), Hex (my Evil Mumbo) (NPC Grian, Xisuma, Hels, Wels, and Evil X mention)

TW: Strangulation and (kind of) swearing I believe?

Notes: Yes, notes will become a consistent thing lol, but I love this chapter a lot because of Oscar’s characterization :D

——————

The Evil Hermits were interesting to say the least. BadTimes led them around the vast area which resembled their server in some way. The land seemed generated quite the same, and in the places where their bases were in the overworld, they were there in HelsCraft, as BadTimes called it. The castle for The Champion was actually the Hels version of Grian’s castle he built, just the land was changed here and there.

There was a ‘jungle’- large burnt trees- close to it, and within the jungle was a very tall withering tree, presumably the HelsCraft version of Iskall’s base, owned by who BadTimes called Iskill. However, they weren’t on their way there after getting a glimpse at the other bases. The moment they were through the lava and flying around, their eyes landed on Mumbo’s HelsCraft base. Unsurprisingly, it was built nearly identical to it but gears and hundred block tall machinery ticked with metallic groans outside of the temple. Smokestacks made their way from the ground and the place looked more like a factory than the preserved temple.

BadTimes decided that that was where they would be visiting first as far as actually talking to the Evil Hermits was concerned. He said he had an ally there named Hex. Hex was supposedly Mumbo’s evil doppelgänger and that all of the Evil Hermits, and a large portion of HelsCraft itself, tended to rely on him for materials. BadTimes said he was respected, nearly a Champion but lacked a will to fight all the time and didn’t care to please The Lord of Darkness.

Already had been flying around, BadTimes led them to land on the spire in the middle of the factory, wings folding behind them neatly. Doc and Impulse were absolutely stunned by the build itself, not that Mumbo’s general base in the overworld wasn’t already incredibly impressive. Just the intense amount of machinery and watching farms grow and be harvested in amounts at a time by the hundreds. It was incredible and that made Impulse particularly giddy to meet this redstone master.

BadTimes had them land on the highest layer of the spire and let Doc and Impulse take in the ginormous build and it’s details. Occasionally, they saw BadTimes glance around, presumably looking for his friend. Though, were friends a thing here? BadTimes said Hex was an ally, not a friend. Yet, Evil X said Hels considered the Evil Hermits to be his friends at one point.

That also brought a thought to Doc, from something Hels told him a while back. He decided to ask BadTimes anyways while Impulse was busy looking over the edge. The creeper stepped up to the evil terraformer with a grunt.

“Weren’t you the one who helped in dethroning Hels?” He asked, not sparing a glance at the other, simply watching Impulse gawk and ramble about the machinery as he stood next to the evil hermit.

On the other hand, BadTimes didn’t seem fazed by the question, simply keeping an unmoving gaze. “Yes. I helped NPC get the throne. Wasn’t the one who stabbed em’ though.” He side eyed Doc carefully. “Why.”

Doc nodded, taking in the information that Hels, in fact, didn’t lie if he was talking shit about his previous companions. “We need your help,” he muttered.

That brought a chuckle out of BadTimes. “What, with The Lord a’ Darkness?” He whistled, emphasizing the size of that kind of task. “Can’t help ya’ there. ‘S got all of us wrapped around his finger. You want help, you get NPC. Kid’s got tons of power.”

The creeper sighed, then faced BadTimes curiously. “Why did you help us? In the castle?”

“Aw, now don’t bring none a’ that here. I did y’all a favor, but I don’ do it out of the nonexistent kindness of my heart, Doc. You owe me.”

Doc hummed, a fair point. “Right, well, you didn’t say you wouldn’t help us with The Lord of Darkness because you didn’t want to. You said it because you’re not able to.”

BadTimes snorted at the observation, nodding his head fondly. “Who said I like workin’ for em’? I don’t care about none a’ y’all, but I like not having to murder people all the time for his satisfaction. I want out just as bad as you do, but that’d hurt that Scar fellow.”

That was true. Hels trying to get out only landed in whatever was going on with Wels. “Right, right. Why’d you overthrow Hels then?”

The other shrugged. “Needed NPC up there. He don’ hurt anyone, really. Soft kid, actually. But even without whatever The Lord gave em’ as a reward, he’s got enough power to wipe out a city with a snap.” BadTimes sighed, almost sadly. “Kid ain’t from here, Doc. He could change this but it would risk everything we got here.”

“Change what?”

The trio turned their heads towards the familiar British accent, though much deeper than they thought it’d be, more distorted. There stood, who Impulse and Doc assumed, was Hex. Unsurprisingly, the man was still sporting the curled handlebar mustache, and his outfit screamed the word Victorian. This man, they already could tell, was some kind of inventor. Maybe the googles were the deciding factor for that thought.

“Howdy, Hex! Showin’ these fellas around. Lord a’ Darkness took em’ from the overworld.” BadTimes pointed a thumb at the two behind him.

“Figured,” the Brit replied, though not hardly showing much interest to them. “Touch anything and I'll have you ground in the gears down there, understand?” Doc and Impulse nodded, Impulse still with a grin on his face.

“You are like- holy shit, how long have you been doing this?!” The redstoner asked excitedly. “This is amazing!”

Hex tilted his chin up proudly. “Years. This world kinda forces you to get better than most. Competition, I’d say, is probably why it happens to look like this anyways.”

“You’ve got to teach me,” Impulse replied, bouncing on his heels.

“Better hope you can keep up, I don’t wait.” Hex ended his sentence on a cold stare, but even behind the mustache, you could see his lips perk up just slightly.

BadTimes decided to interject their little conversation. “Ay Hex, gotta ask you somethin’. Think you can do anythin’ to help this whole Lord a’ Darkness thing?” he asked, putting a hand on the brit’s shoulder.

He’d shook his head. “I don’t believe so, no. NPC can’t do anything?”

“Ah, ‘s what we were thinkin’. Hels ain't havin’ a fun time though, Wels is gettin’ possessed by The Lord.”

“Serves him right....” Hex muttered. “Evil Xisuma dragged him over there, he can stay for all I care.”

“Hex, he was just tryin’ to please The Lord. You know what happens when you don’ please The Lord.”

“Well, The Lord can punish me,” he replied in a disgusted tone, plucking the other evil hermit’s hand off his shoulder. “I don’t care about Mumbo. I’m not being paid to sit around and do his handiwork. I invent for myself, Oscar.”

BadTimes huffed, quirking a brow at the inventor. “So you won’t help us with a little revolution?” he asked with a pout.

Hex merely rolled his eyes with a slight smile, then looking at Doc and Impulse. “What’s been going on in your world, anyways? We heard it’s getting bad. Your own admin is starting to turn on you.”

The pair’s eyes widened, jaws dropping at the phrase. Xisuma turning on them? Had he been possessed as well? Doc wondered about it, then realizing now how aggressive the admin had been since this whole thing started. Now, he and Keralis were off somewhere, probably finding Hels and Evil X to figure out what was going on. That could only lead to something bad.

“Uh….” Doc started, promptly shutting his mouth in confusion. “I….don’t know apparently. I didn’t know Xisuma was….” he trailed off, the Evil Hermits stared at him curiously.

“You’re an idiot,” Hex commented. Doc sent him a glare, but that was quickly returned by the inventor. “You seriously haven’t noticed this entire time? Whew boy, you’re in for a treat.”

“Yeah,” BadTimes agreed. “Can’t believe you didn’t know Evil X was bein’ punished too. I mean I don’ like the guy, but just somethin’ you should know.”

The pair dragged their hands down their faces, glancing at each other worriedly.

“We’ve gotta get back to the overworld,” said Impulse. He looked at the Evil Hermits with pleading eyes. “There’s gotta be a way for us to get back.”

“Look, I’m sorry boys, but-“

The Evil Hermits paused, pulling out phone-like objects from their pockets. Impulse and Doc realized quickly that the Evil Hermits had their own communicators. That quickly gave the both of them ideas.

“Xisuma experienced kinetic energy,” Hex read. “Hm, guess he’s not doing great either.”

“You have communicators?” Doc asked them.

Quickly, they pocketed their comms. “Yeah, they ain’t for you though, back off.”

“You don’t understand, we’ve gotta get back home, BadTimes,” the creeper growled.

“I think we’re done meetin’ people for today, Doc,” the other replied rather blankly.

“I thought you wanted to get out of this!”

Impulse turned to pull him away from BadTimes. “Doc, don’t-“

Doc pulled his shoulder away from Impulse harshly. “No, we’re getting out of here. You’ve gotta help us, because if you wanna leave this,” he gestured around them. “This is how.”

Without hesitation, both Evil Hermits drew their swords, the familiar netherite blades reflecting the luminance in the spire. Hex stepped forward with BadTimes and Impulse stepped away from the trio, far away. Doc stood his ground with a snarl. Yet, he spread his arms away from him with a smirk.

“Go on then. Kill me. I’ll get stuck on that island again, won’t I?”

“No, actually.” Hex looked at Impulse darkly. He walked back and pressed a button on the wall, one of many of them littering it. “But he can go.”

A couple seconds after the button was pressed, an arrow shot out of a hidden dispenser, striking Impulse in the chest. The redstoner, having been close to the edge, stumbled backwards, finding no more ground behind him. Despite this, his shock kept him from yelling on his way off the edge. Doc ran to catch his hands but at the last second, Impulse’s fingers slipped through his grip and he watched as his friend descended painfully into the machinery at the bottom of the build, watching blood splatter in the large gears.

ImpulseSV suffocated, they knew their communicators read. The server mechanics wouldn’t be able to name any other death.

The creeper took a step back, silent at what’d just happened to his friend.

“Don’ worry about it. He’ll spawn back up there. I’m gonna go grab em’-“ BadTimes was interrupted by a metallic grip around his neck pushing up against one of the stone pillars. He grabbed at Doc’s arm, clawing at it, but the hold didn’t budge. Quickly, he was lifted off the ground, left squirming in the air against the wall.

“You don’t respawn, Oscar. You can help me or I strangle you to death,” Doc snarled. “Just a damn pitiful creature. Nothing more than a skeleton, aren’t you.”

With that, Hex pulled a bow from his inventory, aiming it at the creeper. “Let him go or I call NPC. He won’t be merciful.”

The hand around BadTime’s throat tightened and he choked, swallowing thickly. “H- Hex don’t—“ he rasped. “Doc,” he swallowed again. “I’m sorry- Can’t help your world.” The Evil Hermit began to feel lightheaded. “But I can get you out- I can-“ At those words, he fell to the floor, the hand no longer around his neck. He hacked and coughed, bringing his hands up to his now sore throat.

“Tell me how.”

“Oscar, you’re not seriously going to help him!”

“We need the NPC,” BadTimes muttered. “But you,” he pointed up at Doc. “Don’t ever call me Oscar, ya’ hear?”

“Noted, now go get Impulse.” Doc smirked at how BadTimes scurried away, stumbling to stand, and fumbling with his liftoff. Man’s all bark and no bite, isn’t he. The creeper turned to Hex, who stood motionless. He was confused as to what to do now.

“You’re gonna help us, too,” Doc growled.

#my fic #to hell and back #docm77 #hex hermitcraft #badtimeswithscar #impulsesv #long post

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spookypetrine · 3 years ago

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Bewitching the Elements: Water

This chapter was a rough one bring so many emotions up for me. I only seems to express my feeling with crying if I am in water. The shower and the pool. I constantly want to float in water in emotional states and it does facilitate a lot of breakdowns for me. I don't show my emotions well or share them with others at all in a verbal way. When my fiancé passed away in 2018 I barely cried after his death. I didn't finally cry until my family took me on vacation to the beach a few months later. I went down to the beach alone to swim and I cried at the beauty of the ocean and the pain in my hear that he had never seen the ocean while he was alive. It was devastating and painful to think about as he was gone never to return and I was still here. I am still here and that healing was painful and still not done. This brought all of that back.

I have rambled long enough lets get into these questions.

What does the element of water represent to me?

To me it represents peace and sadness. It's soft and calming, but also have a secret rage. This is the ocean deep and dark with unexplored crevices that hold secrets of the divine feminine inside each person. The feeling of unabashed rage and a delicate side showing the perfect balance of the womxn. It is a glorious element to behold honestly.

What's my truest emotional nature feel like?

For me as I expressed before my emotional nature is a secret. I locked box that very few get to be privy to because when I was a child those emotions were belittled and pushed aside. As an adult I never learned to process them or control them just hide them. Shrink my feelings and shove them away from others. This also involved a lot of learning to cry quietly and learning how to function when paralyzed with depression. My depression took full effect in high school I was stuck in a cycle of having to function when every part of me wanted to hide from the world. Is this healthy or helpful? No. Does it cause immense problems in my personal life? Yes. Will it cause me to change? I am trying with self-therapy and meditation I am trying so that's something I guess.

What is my soul saying to me right now?

I need to meditate and once I finish this journaling I will probably spend the next few hours doing that and reflecting. I also need to pull some cards for some much needed clarity.

What does my shadow self feel like? Express itself as?

My shadow self is the scared little girl hiding in the closet every time someone knocks on the door. When I was about 2 my mother left my abusive father and we moved into an apartment in town to hide from him. Anytime someone knocked on the apartment door I would scream that it was daddy and try to drag my mother into the closet to hide from him. To this day my mother tells that story fondly as a cute anecdote about my childhood. It's a traumatic story about me trying to hide from my abusive scary father, but yes tell that at family reunions.

My shadow self is that little girl that never gets to be a little girl. That small child that had all of her carefree times stripped from her and was placed in a survival mood so young. My shadow self is her and as I write this I can see her in her Barbie footie pajamas hiding with her teddy bear. That is who she is the hurt child begging her mother to get in the closet to save her. She expresses herself every time I get a new stuffie to sit on my bed with me. Every time I do my make-up in a silly way or paint a picture. These are the moments when she comes out and slowly I am healing us both.

What does it feel like living in the world when I'm connected to my heart?

I know my worth in every scenario even in romantic ones. I don't let people use me as much and I stand my ground when needed. I don't let others abuse my heart and I don't do it either. She needs me to be strong and I am. If that strength ends in us being alone then so be it at least no one can take advantage of me any longer.

What practices can I turn to when I'm feeling overwhelmed, emotional, and like I need help?

Well, I write on here and on my google docs. I meditate or exercise. Watch something that makes me happy or read. Sometimes I watch ASMR videos online and enjoy the happy sounds and sights. These are things that help me destress when I need to.

What are the parts of myself I am still learning to accept and love?

I am a bigger woman and have spent most of my life being too big and too much. I am learning to use that and embrace all that I am and my physical body is. Instead of hating her and the person looking back at me in the mirror, I have to learn to love her and heal her as she needs. She is me and I need to make sure she is taken care of. Right now I am just going through the motions, but eventually, it will become and kneejerk reaction to love myself and build myself up. As needed I will be my own advocate because no one is going to do it for me or see my value if I don't see it for myself.

What are ways I can nurture myself through this?

This is a very new radical path I am on and I have to go it pretty much alone. In this time I just need to remind myself to be conscious that I am trying and be patient as I relearn to love my body and myself. To find beauty in my flaws and hope in my soul I will evolve to love myself despite the world telling me I shouldn't. I will.

#wicca #wiccan #pagan #magic #magick #bewitching the elements #water #water element #elements #witch #witchcraft #selflove #selfcare #astrology

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juju-on-that-yeet · 4 years ago

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Lost and Found

Whumptober Day 25: I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks Prompt: Disorientation

After two days lost in the wilderness, Eric and the Jims are doing poorly. When help finally arrives, they’re too out of it to appreciate it. (continued from “Down, Down, Down”)

Warnings: Head injury, vomiting mentions

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

On the first full day of Eric and the Jims being stranded at the bottom of the ravine, they drink through their last water bottle.

The crushed granola bars weren’t enough to keep them from waking up hungry, and not even finishing off their water can stop the hunger pains from increasing throughout the day. RJ goes off to find food, but Eric is worried about what he might return with. Any mushroom or berry around here could easily be poisonous. RJ eventually returns not with food, but with news of a creek up ahead that they could get more water from. Eric is pretty sure they’d have to boil it to drink it safely, but the only container they have is their water bottle. When RJ makes another trip to the creek and comes back with a bottle full of water, though, Eric is less concerned. The water looks fine, and the sun is so hot, and the hunger hasn’t abated. So he and RJ drink, and they give some to CJ, too.

At least, they try; CJ is still barely conscious with no strength to drink on his own, and most of the water drips past his lips and down his neck. Every once in a while he groans and tries to sign something, but his hands are no clearer than they were the day before. Eric spends most of the day with him as RJ makes countless trips with their water bottle. His attempts to find food all fail, and the three go to sleep still hungry.

The second day begins when Eric wakes up with revulsion already crawling up his throat. He vomits creek water onto the ground beside him as RJ, newly awoken by Eric’s retching, rubs his back and tries to comfort him – until he has to vomit, too, and stumbles away from where the group has been sleeping to puke up yesterday’s water.

“Was there something in the water?” Eric gasps between heaves.

“I don’t know,” RJ coughs, “It could be because we haven’t eaten, too.”

A few hours pass. Eric and RJ continue to retch on and off, even when nothing more comes up. CJ, meanwhile, never so much as gags. He ate as little as the others did, but he barely drank any water, and in that Eric and RJ have their answer.

The repeated vomiting leaves RJ too weak to go looking for food again, or for a better source of water. Not that Eric much notices; his broken arm is hurting worse than it has before. The limb is swollen and discolored, and Eric can’t help but fear how much worse it is under the skin. RJ curls up, rubbing his bruises, probably aching all over from his own fall down the ravine. CJ still looks terrible; the wound on his head is inflamed, and his pupils still don’t match. He makes less noise than he did the day before, his attempts to sign are fewer and even less effective. Eric expects he won’t be able to sleep when night falls, but his aches and worries catch up to him and drag him under alarmingly fast.

The third day is hell.

Eric wakes up and doesn’t feel rested. His stomach is in knots, as though with no food available it has decided to eat itself instead. RJ is curled up again, whimpering. CJ is still asleep, or maybe he’s unconscious. The thought should send a pang of fear through Eric, but he doesn’t have the strength to be scared, he doesn’t have enough awareness to be afraid. Thoughts float in and out of his mind, thoughts of home, thoughts of the others, thoughts of rescue, but none of them strike any emotion. He’s too weak to feel a thing. He falls in and out of sleep, and he suspects RJ does, too. He can barely remember that there’s people with him, barely recall anything outside himself. It’s only hot. He’s only exhausted.

At some point in the day, something changes. It takes Eric several moments to realize that some new people have shown up. He can’t concentrate on what that means and watch the figures approach him at the same time, so he stops thinking and watches Bim and Wilford approach him.

“Oh god, guys, can you hear me!?” Bim half-asks, half-shrieks, frantic with worry. He dashes to Eric – and to the twins, Eric remembers their presence. Bim manages to wake RJ, who groans as he’s shaken out of his slumber.

“Good lord, what happened to you three?” Wilford asks Eric, looking uncharacteristically concerned. Eric’s throat is too dry for him to answer.

“CJ? CJ??” Bim says as he gently shakes CJ’s shoulder, trying to wake him. “CJ, come on, Cam, wake up!” The fear in his voice kicks up a notch. “Oh god, Cammie, buddy, please wake up–”

“Let’s get them home,” Wilford says, firmly but gently, interrupting Bim’s terrified ramble.

“Right, right,” he gasps. He carefully scoops up CJ, making sure to support his head. Wilford, meanwhile, picks up both RJ and Eric, holding them in one arm each. Wilford runs hot, but compared to the heat of the sun and dirt Eric’s been sitting on, he’s a welcome chill. Eric lets his head loll against Wilford’s shoulder as the group is teleported away.

The moment in Wilford’s void sends a bout of nausea through Eric, one that manifests as a sharp pain in his empty stomach. He groans as the group appears in the clinic. It takes a moment for his head to stop swimming as Bim yells for Dr. Iplier.

“Doc, we found them!” he cries, “They’re hurt, especially CJ!”

Dr. Iplier comes running in and spares a moment to look at all three sick, weakened egos before zeroing in on CJ.

“Christ, Bim, I won’t mince words,” Dr. Iplier mutters as he pries open CJ’s eyes to shine a light into them, “CJ’s on death’s door. This head injury he’s got must be doing awful things to his brain. I need Green and I need to get CJ into surgery now.”

“What about the others?” Wilford asks over Bim’s wail.

“Just get them each into a bed,” Dr. Iplier says, already turning to rush to the operating room, motioning for Bim to follow. “Grab Google or Ollie to put them on IVs and examine them further; anything else can wait.”

Wilford obeys. As soon as Eric’s head hits the cool pillow of his clinic bed, he falls asleep.

~~~

When Eric wakes up, his mind is much clearer. He’s still in a clinic bed, but there’s IVs in his good arm and a cast on his broken one. His warped and broken prosthetics have been removed, too. Eric feels sore and achy and still very hungry, but his bed is comfortable, and he’s finally out of the sun. Now that he can think straight, he’s worried about the twins again.

Some of the worry dissipates when he looks to the side and sees RJ in his own bed, with his own IVs and bandages. RJ is already awake, and he grins to see Eric’s eyes on him.

“You okay, AJ?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so,” Eric answers, “You too?”

“Yeah,” RJ replies. His face falls a little. “I don’t know about CJ, though. He’s not on my other side.”

Eric looks at his own other side, but no, CJ isn’t there either. His heart clenches with fear. He remembers how badly CJ was hurt and shudders.

Fortunately, that’s when Eric hears footsteps coming towards him and RJ. The pair look to see Dr. Iplier opening the door to their hospital room.

“Hey, you’re both awake,” Dr. Iplier says, smiling gently. “According to Wilford, you guys were asleep the moment he put you both down. You’ve been asleep for hours, how are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” RJ says.

“I can imagine,” Dr. Iplier replies, walking in to check on each ego’s IVs, “You’ve been missing for a few days. Wilford and Bim said they found you at the bottom of a ravine.”

“We fell,” Eric admits, “We had supplies, but they got crushed.”

“We tried drinking river water,” RJ adds, “But it, um, didn’t work out that well.”

“I can imagine that, too,” Dr. Iplier sighs, “But at least you’re both alive. And you should both heal up fine.”

“What about CJ?” RJ murmurs like he’s afraid to ask. Eric looks up at Dr. Iplier anxiously, waiting for a response. Fortunately, Dr. Iplier smiles again.

“He made it through surgery,” he says, “He’s in his own room. He was badly hurt, that head injury caused significant swelling in his brain. He’s still asleep, and I’ll be keeping him asleep for a day or two to make sure he heals well. I know that sounds scary,” he adds in response to the horrified looks on Eric and RJ’s faces, “But it’s necessary. And between you and me…” He leans down between them like he’s telling a secret, and Eric and RJ lean in to listen. “…His time looks good. I’m confident he’ll pull through. If he were a human...” Dr. Iplier shakes his head. “Well, if he were a human, he wouldn’t have been alive for me to perform brain surgery on in the first place. But if he’d lived that long, he’d be looking at a week or more in a coma, and even then, he’d have a lot of brain damage upon waking. But CJ’s a figment, so when he wakes up in a couple days, you can expect him to act like normal - though he might not remember a lot of the last few days.”

Eric and RJ look at each other. Eric figures they’re both thinking the same thing: It’s probably good that CJ won’t remember that harrowing experience. For his part, Eric hopes he’ll eventually be able to forget.

#markiplier #eric derekson #the jim twins #fanfic #my writing #kristin says stuff #whumptober2020 #poor bois ;w;

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writing-is-thorapy · 4 years ago

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Dead-ception: Ramblings of an Exhausted Writer

”One night, I was very tired but not quite ready to go to sleep. I thought, “what if I reread Dead-ception and published my commentary here?” So that’s what this is. If you want actual, legit meta-commentary, that’s coming after the work is fully published 😉

We’re going to try this out with Chapter 1.

I recorded my thoughts while I read the chapter and have transcribed them (all of them) here. Whenever the section I was discussing was unclear, I have clarified with a parenthetical side note or quotation.

Hope you enjoy!

Transcript:

Hey this is Victoria, AKA Writing_is_THORapy, and I’m gonna be reading my fic “Carry You Home,” AKA the Dead-ception AU. Um, I’m not gonna be reading it aloud, I’m just gonna be reacting aloud, and I apologize for my voice *loud sniffle* and the occasional sniffles because my allergies are acting up. Isn’t that fun? So... yeah let’s get started!

(After first section that ends with, “He had no idea it would go so wrong.”) I remember when I wrote that first part, that first section. God, I had no idea this was gonna turn out to be such a big thing.

Damn, I kill Anakin so fast. He dies within like the first 200 words. *Laughs* Anakin’s my favorite character and he’s like... not in this. At all.

(”He wrenches Rako Hardeen’s mask off...”) When I referenced Rako Hardeen’s mask, I didn’t remember whether he actually had a mask or not and just made up that he did but he ACTUALLY DOES so I’m proud of myself.

(“Obi-Wan ignites his lightsaber, the blade going straight through Hardeen’s chest.”) Yeah kill ‘im, Obi!

(“Ahsoka’s lithe body...”) I use “lithe” a lot to describe Ahsoka. Like, it fits, but still...

I like that I included the detail that Anakin’s sightless blue eyes gaze upwards at the STARS. Good job, me!

Oof I love these last two lines: “For the first time in his life, Obi-Wan wished he was dead./Maybe then Anakin would still be alive.” Oof, that impact. Good job.

I’m sorry I’m gonna be patting myself on the back a lot during this. Mainly because I’m surprised... that this is so good. *Long pause* Y’know? Haha

I like that I included Rex’s POV because, like, a lot of times I feel like with deathfics, the few deathfics that I’ve seen like, actually cover the aftermath of a death, ‘cuz I feel like a lot of times it’s just the build-up and the death itself but not a lot of aftermath, which is partially why I wrote this. Um, I feel like with ones regarding Anakin, they don’t... really cover Rex. And I mean like... I really—I really like the friendship between Rex and Anakin. I think it’s a really cool thing, and... I definitely think it’s under-appreciated, so... Rex and Anakin rights.

(“...on the Permacrete.”) I had to look up what concrete was called in Star Wars. It’s “permacrete.”

Ohhhhh “Rex is the one who was made to die./Not his [Jedi]” except I wrote the, um, Mandalorian term but I’m not gonna try and say it ‘cuz I know I’ll butcher it.

Oh my God do you know what I just realized??? So, um, I wrote here “Something clicks.” You know what else clicks? A GUN. Or a BLASTER. Parallels! Yeah! I know, I know that’s a stretch, but. I’ll take what I can get.

I gotta say figuring out the logistics of this next part when the 501st arrives and gives Anakin this send-off was harder than you might think. ‘Cuz I had t—part of my writing process involves me ruthlessly poking holes in all my plot points and everything that I make happen so that I make this as airtight as possible. Um, so... finding the rationale for Rex to call the 501st over instead of like, going back and telling them... it wasn’t easy.

Oh no! It says that “he thanks the Fox.” No! Typo! I’m gonna go fix that in the doc. And maybe I’ll fix it in the real fic later, but... I don’t feel like it right now. *Opens Google Docs on my phone* Where is chapter one? Chapter ooone? Chapter one!

Now you’re all gonna know about my mistake. Please don’t go and find it. (SIDENOTE: You can’t because I fixed it!) You’re gonna go and find it, aren’t you? Please don’t. It’s gonna bug me enough.

Ok, let us continue.

(Referencing Anakin’s send-off) I also had to look up a loooot about military formations and procedures, specifically regarding those, like, honoring the dead. It was interesting research.

“It’s our turn to carry him.” Carry you home! Yeah! Cue title! Ish!

There is an extra “z” in there. Where did that “z” come from? Let’s get rid of that random little “z!” *Goes to Google Docs and pulls up chapter one*

*Searches for the “z”*

Oh it’s not in the doc. It’s just in here.

*Continues reading*

And I wrote “cloth” and not “the cloth!” Come on, Victoria! I’m sorry half of this is me pointing out all of my typos.

Ohhhhh “Each step he takes feels like an impossibility he does not deserve.” Good line! Patting myself on the back! I’m sorry this seems so egotistical!

Oh and that’s that first chapter. Uh, well... I’m gonna go fix those typos because otherwise they are gonna bug me.

I was really proud of coming up with the Missing Man Formation for this—I didn’t come up with it, sorry—but for finding the Missing Man Formation and using it because I really like it. I think it fits really well.

*Goes and fixes typos*

Let’s see... Where’s the part where—oh! Found it! Typos fixed! Fantastic!

So let’s see what else do I have to say about this first chapter...

Meta and stuff about the contents of the first chapter in-depth, um... I’ve been writing out meta for each chapter and it’s no where near finished yet because I have to really go through each chapter and find all the things, but I’ve started for each, just by taking the comments I had on the side of each doc. After I fully release Dead-ception I’ll start releasing that. I don’t know how I’m going to release it, I don’t know where, but I’ll release it. So... yeah.

Bye for now!

#star wars #my writing #my fic #the deadception au #chapter 1 #commentary #tori talks #ramblings of an exhausted writer #I apologize for the excessive self-praise #This fic is my baby #this commentary consists of two things #me pointing out all my typos #and me patting myself on the back

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mowmowmice · 5 years ago

Text

Secret Santa!!

🥺🥺 originally this was on a google docs because i don’t really write much, but hey I decided to post it to tumblr since it would be easier to access.

there’s no real title to this, just some nice adrienette fluff for my secret santa! @gryffindorcls

also @chatnoirinette if u wanted it SKSKSKS

———————————————————————-

Wearing a fancy holiday outfit as opposed to her usual outfit for school was, in hindsight, not the greatest idea when the temperature was a mere 20 degrees outside. Being completely honest, Marinette had been on the fence to begin with about the outfit, but Alya had assured her that it would be worth it.

‘Worth it’ wasn't the phrase Marinette would use. Discarding her usual pink and gray color scheme, she found herself wearing a bright red and white dress, ending just above her knees. Underneath the dress she wore regular black tights, and small black heels to match. The outfit itself wasn’t a problem-designing it herself had been a fun challenge, and showing it off to the class had made the effort pay off nicely. The problem was that it was practically a blizzard outside. Walking home, Marinette was positive she’d be stuck at home sick by tomorrow.

Still, the day was a success in her books. Well, mainly. Of course, Adrien wasn’t there to see it-hardly a surprise. He had said the day before that his father had planned a photoshoot the day before Christmas break, but Marinette held onto hope that just maybe…

Her hope was in vain. Marinette enjoyed herself immensely, but she couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that Adrien couldn’t have celebrated with the rest of them. If anybody deserved to, it would’ve been him. She hoped that wherever he was, he was having fun. Letting out a breath that was visible to the naked eye, Marinette wrapped her arms around her body and began the long trudge home, absolutely wishing she had thought to bring a jacket like her mother suggested the night before.

Before she could get far, headlights in the distance caught Marinette’s attention. The girl was puzzled. Why would anybody be driving in this weather, much less in a car that looked as though it was brand new? Marinette hoped whoever it was in the car would pass by quickly. It was always so awkward having strangers pity you for not wearing a warm enough coat on a walk in winter. And Marinette dealt with that enough for today-Alya and Rose both berated her the entire time for not bringing a good winter coat-.

As the car approached, Marinette stared at the ground to avoid any unneeded eye contact. What she wasn’t expecting, however, was the car to slow down right in front of her. When Marinette first noticed this, she immediately began to speed up without looking from the ground. Was someone after her? Was she going to get kidnapped? Or robbed? Her worries were unfounded though, because pretty soon a voice-a familiar voice-cut out over the gusting wind.

“Marinette! Hey, Marinette!”

The girl looked up, barely believing it. The car-no, the limo stopped in front of her, that was..that was Adrien’s car! Her cheeks flushed bright red, and not because of the cold. Marinette pulled strands of her bangs out of her eyes, pausing in her steps to turn around and look at him. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop the violent shivers sent down her back, her hands clutching at her arms and crossed over her chest.

Adrien had gotten out of the car, in a very fitting coat only the best designers wore. He had gloves on, but his blonde hair was freely whipping around with the wind. When he spoke, he had to shout to be heard. “What are you doing, Marinette? It’s freezing out!”

If Marinette wasn’t already embarrassed, now she was absolutely mortified. He probably thought her so strange, wearing such a dress in the dead of winter. Trying to find her voice (and also remain calm, because Adrien) Marinette spoke out against the wind. “I-Well, uh-“ Oh no. She was rambling now, rambling and she couldn’t stop. “No ride home! Have to walk. Um, bye!” Turning around on her heel, Marinette began to speed walk the opposite direction, already cursing her bad luck. Why, oh why whenever Adrien was around she just couldn’t get anything done!? It was so unfair!

Before Marinette could get far, a tight but warm grip on her arm stopped her. She looked up at the hand, face to face with Adrien. Up close, you could see his cheeks and nose begin to get red because of the cold. He wore an expression of puzzlement, but also something akin to amusement. “I can't just leave you here to walk home! You’ll be an icicle by the time we get back.” He laughed, though it was barely heard through the warring wind around them. “Let me take you home. I already asked Gorilla when I saw you.”

Marinette let out a soft squeak, trying not to look too panicked at the idea that Adrien-Adrien, was offering her a ride home! The very idea was something that she could barely even process in her mind at the moment, but it seemed that her silence was taken as a hearty acceptance for Adrien. “Great!” The blonde’s words barely reached her ears, and as soon as she heard them he was already pulling her back towards the car. Marinette made no move to remove her arm or resist his gentle tugging, but she also seemed to be frozen in place at the moment, and probably couldn’t have done either of those things if she tried.

Adrien shot her a cheeky grin that made Marinette’s already inflamed cheeks burn, but before she could respond appropriately (like faint, for instance) he had already opened the car door and slowly let go of her hand. Marinette, for a moment, allowed herself the despair of feeling his warm grip slowly slip away from her hands, until she realized she was being silly and quickly stepped into the car. Adrien got in next to her, nodding to Gorilla, and immediately turned his attention to Marinette.

“You look really pretty today, Marinette. Was the party really that fun?” Marinette seemed to barely hear him, as her heart had soared at his word choice and she seemed lost in her own headspace. Finally though, regaining a sense of composure (as much as she could muster around Adrien anyways) Marinette offered an embarrassed, though a fairly confident smile. “Yes! It was really fun-I..well, I thought it would be nice to dress up for a bit. Not for any particular reason, of course, but because I wanted to! I think everyone there liked it but, maybe I should’ve saved it for a warmer day.” Through her rambling Marinette got increasingly more fidgety, worried that with every pause she was saying the wrong thing over and over. Eventually her gaze fluttered towards the shoes that she was wearing, determinedly staring there instead of anywhere else.

“I bet everyone thought you looked amazing, Marinette.” Adrien said kindly, looking at her with warm, sparkling green eyes. Marinette dared to look up again, her face glowing, but a small smile managed to worm its way out of her. “T-Thank you, Adrien. That means a lot coming from you.” For a moment, the two stayed in silence, before Marinette realized her mistake. “I-I mean because..because you’re so famous! And Gabriel Agreste’s son! Not-not that I wouldn’t value your opinion if you weren’t, but-oh I’m going to shut up now.” Marinette buried her face in her hands, avoiding anymore confrontation. Of course she had to screw everything up. What was even worse was that Adrien had stayed silent throughout her entire babbling, reaching forward to whisper something to his bodyguard once she finished.

He’s going to kick me out. I just know it. Her miserable thoughts were little comfort to her right now, but she knew she deserved them all. She just had to mess everything up. Tikki would be amused by this, for sure, but Marinette knew that the kwami would also harbor a fair amount of disappointment. Marinette had been working so hard on trying to talk to Adrien normally, and now she was back to square one. Even worse, Adrien probably thought she was such a loser.

The silence wore on for a few more minutes, until Gorilla stopped the limo. Marinette lifted her face out of her hands, avoiding Adrien’s eye completely and reaching the handle for the door. “Thank you for the ride ho-“ She stares at the window, blinking comically. This..this was not her house. This wasn’t even near her house.

This was Andre’s ice cream cart.

Marinette looked at Gorilla, her mouth agape. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know you needed my directions. You just take a left-“ Adrien’s soft laughter cut her off mid sentence, and she turned to look at him, completely puzzled. After he stopped laughing, he looked at her with a dazzling smile. “You seem a bit stressed out. I thought we could get some ice cream before you go home.”

There were loads of things that Marinette could’ve said at the moment, and her brain chose the worst possible option. “It’s the middle of winter.” She stammered, then immediately clamped her jaws shut. He was trying to do something nice, and once again she had to put to question every possible thing he did. Was she trying to make him hate her? Adrien suddenly looked bashful, rubbing the back of his neck and not looking at her. “Well-yeah, I know. I just thought that, well..ice cream always make things better, no matter what season it’s in. But if you don’t want it, that’s completely fine! I just thought..” He trailed off, shrugging and shooting her a small smile.

Marinette, bless her heart, had been extremely aware that she would not mess this up a second time. Before he even finished she had stumbled the words “I’d love to!” Out of her mouth, and was too preoccupied with getting that ice cream to even wait for him to respond back. Marinette quickly shoved the door open and stepped out, the wind whipping against her hair and skin. She shivered, but she knew that she wouldn’t take this opportunity for granted, no matter how cold she was. Adrien ran around the back to catch up, tugging his scarf more securely over his neck. He took one look at Marinette, then quickly grabbed his scarf (the one Marinette designed) removed it from his neck, and wrapped it around her neck. Marinette let out a soft squeak, but if he heard, he didn’t say anything.

“You looked cold.” Was his only response to the look she gave him (which, unfortunately did not answer her question of “please marry me”)

With that, Adrien had moved forward to Andre, greeting the vendor with a smile so perfect that it had to have been practiced for years. Marinette followed, trying to focus on getting through the snow and not burying her face in the scarf and practically living in his perfume. Between the cold and the fact that he had put his scarf around her, Marinette scarcely noticed the faint scent of Camembert lingering around her neck.

Andre looked at them with bright eyes, as if he were waiting all day for some customers to come by. “Ah-two of my favorite customers! What will it be, yes? Ah-just kidding! I already know you two exactly!” He waggled a scooper in their faces, and Adrien let out a hearty laugh. Marinette could scarcely believe this was happening, that she was getting to eat ice cream with..with Adrien! And alone too!

“Blackberry and peppermint! An explosive and rare mix, that’s true. But often times opposites attract, and you do too!” His wording left Marinette practically red at the ears, but to her surprise when she looked at Adrien, he also looked a bit taken aback. Finally though, he seemed to regain his senses and smiled. “You know best, Andre.”

The two of them got their ice cream (two separate cones) and Adrien began heading back to the limo. Marinette looked after him, quickly deciding to take a chance and be bold. Do something Ladybug would do. “Wait! Why don’t we eat outside?” She called out. At first, she was worried that he wouldn’t hear her, but he turned his head and looked at her, eyes bright. “Are you sure? You look like you’re about to fall over!” His voice was teasing, and Marinette had to laugh at it. “I’m sure! We can sit on one of those benches. We wouldn’t want to get your limo messy, anyways.” Adrien nodded and quickly ran to tell Gorilla, while Marinette took a tentative taste of her cone. Andre was right-the taste was bold, and strong. But at the same time the flavors blended together nicely. Marinette took a second lick.

The two of them sat together at the bench Marinette had pointed out, and with frozen hands, Marinette took out her phone. Her parents were probably worried about her-and Alya had asked that she tell her when she got home. Marinette quickly sent a text out to her mom to assure her that she was okay-and that she had gone out with a friend for a few minutes. Alya, however, was a bit harder to please.

Alya: Girl, who are you WITH? All of our classmates went home!

Marinette: Adrien came by and offered me a ride. Not a big deal, really.

As soon as she sent those texts, she knew she was in for a long night. And given the way Alya had immediately tried FaceTiming her, she was absolutely right. She declined (because it would be extremely rude) and focused on eating her ice cream, savoring the taste while also ignoring Alya’s constant buzzing on her phone. Adrien was also eating his ice cream, but his gaze was focused on something in the distance. When Marinette followed his line of sight, she also saw a small shape running across rooftops. It’s probably just Chat Noir patrolling. She thought, glancing at the snowy ground. Adrien seemed to think the same thing, looking satisfied after a moment of hesitation, and turning to Marinette. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Marinette let out a huge gasp. A large, crazy large shadow had just dropped over Adrien, and before she could call out a warning, the branch that had piled on a huge chunk of snow for the last hour and a half, snapped in half and fell right on top of him.

Despite the horror she felt that he could’ve been dealt a serious injury, Marinette had begun laughing. Hysterical laughing. She was covering her face with her hands, trying not to let laughter spill out of her mouth like a waterfall. But Adrien’s dumbstruck expression was too much, and she ended up crouching over, giggles erupting her like a volcano. Adrien, meanwhile, had also begun to laugh, shaking his head and scattering snow everywhere. He was looking at Marinette with a warmth she couldn’t describe, but pretty soon his gaze held mischief to them. “You think my pain is funny, Marinette?” His voice quieted, and was gentle against the rushing wind.

Immediately Marinette hushed. She looked at him, her eyes wide and horror struck. Had she just offended him? She meant no harm-but maybe he was really hurt, and maybe he thought she was just laughing because she was evil and mean. Before she could say anything though, Adrien had gently thrown a snowball right at her, not enough to seriously hurt her, but enough to make her feel mass discomfort. Marinette gasped, though when eyes were shining. Adrien looked at her with a familiar grin on his face, and quickly got up, using his ice cream cone as a shield.

Marinette already began to plan. She took one last lick of her ice cream cone, before plopping it on the ground. She would need both hands for this. Adrien seemed offended by the waste of the cone, looking at where she dropped it with a playfully indignant expression. Marinette used the temporary distraction to quickly scoop up a ball of clustering snow, throwing it right at his ice cream cone and hitting it dead center. The ice cream got shot off and fell to the floor, and Adrien let out a loud gasp that even Marinette could hear over the blowing wind. “You’ll pay for that!” He cried, dropping the rest of his cone and beginning to scoop up some more snow. Marinette let out a squeal as he threw one right at her dress, running away from him as fast as she could.

Marinette wasn’t sure when Gorilla had come outside of the car and stared at them until they managed to go back inside. She knew it must’ve been longer than she thought (the sun had begun to go down, and it was getting dark fast) She couldn’t believe that the two had lost track of time so easily. Adrien didn’t look too bothered, getting into the car with a grin plastered onto his face.

The car ride home was warm and lively, nothing like the small talk that filled it up on the way there. Marinette got to hear about how Adrien never really got to do this before, and how having ice cream in winter was never something he did before today. Marinette also explained her own experiences, and how her parents would’ve never let her have a snowball fight wearing nothing but a dress and tights. (Adrien looked a little guilty at that, but pointed out that she was also wearing his scarf) Marinette almost forgot. She looked at the scarf, gently grabbing it with her frozen fingers and beginning to peel it off her neck. Adrien reached out, his gloved hand gently brushing over her own. “Keep it on for now. Just until we get to your house.” He smiled again, the same warm smile he showed her before, and Marinette felt obligated to keep the scarf on for just a bit longer.

When they came to her house for real, Marinette stepped out. The wind died down a bit, but it was enough to make her shiver still. She quickly gave her thanks and holiday wishes to Gorilla, and would’ve done the same for Adrien if he hadn’t insisted on accompanying her to the door. She smiled, feeling emboldened by the new level of comfort she felt around him, and walked along step by step until she got to the bakery door.

Marinette turned to Adrien, her cheeks still a pretty pink. “Thank you for this. Really-I had a great time.” Her eyes were gleaming, but Adrien looked a bit worried. “I guess my plan kinda backfired. I offered you a ride to keep you out of the cold, and I think we spent more time in it. I’m really sorry about that.” He looked at her again, his intense green eyes meeting her bright blues. Marinette looked away for a moment. “It’s okay, really! Running around warmed my up a lot. Much more than walking would’ve done.” He looked relieved by her insistence, and was about to leave before she remembered the scarf. “Oh! Adrien! You forgot this!” She quickly pulled the scarf off of her neck, feeling a sudden spurt of wind hit the back of her neck. Ignoring it, she held out the scarf for him to grab.

He had turned back to look at her, walking back over to grab the scarf. But in the middle of heading over he stopped dead, staring at a spot above Marinette’s head. Adrien looked conflicted for a moment, before he seemed to make up his mind and walk over to grab the scarf. Marinette hadn’t bothered to follow his line of sight, assuming he saw a bird or something, and instead handed the scarf to him with a smile.

He gently took the scarf, leaned down, and kissed her cheek.

“Happy holidays, Marinette. I hope we can hang out again like this.” And then he was gone, walking back to the limo, getting in the car, and leaving. Just like that.

Marinette didn’t remember walking through the bakery door, she didn’t remember trudging you her stairs. She definitely didn’t remember reading through Alya’s 100+ new messages, nor Tikki trying to persuade her to patrol as Ladybug one more time before the break began. Instead, as she reached a hand towards her cheek, a rush of memories ran through her brain. Adrien in the snow. Adrien in the limo. Adrien at Andre’s with her. And Adrien outside of her bakery door, leaning down to plant a kiss on her cheek.

On second thought, maybe wearing that holiday dress wasn’t so bad after all.

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cold-neon-ocean · 4 years ago

Note

Concerning the comics, do you dislike Thanos himself or the Black Order's previous (?) affiliation with him?

A mix of both but primarily the former. Thanos is my least favorite fictional character in existence so I’ll always grind my teeth at The Order’s subservience to him seemingly without much reason in the earlier comics aside from “they’re evil and Thanos is the biggest evil so they worship him!” because to me it’s boring. I don’t like god-mod characters and Thanos is the epitome of that trope. “He’s so powerful that only gets defeated by the heroes because he subconsciously wants to lose as punishment, isn’t he just the most tragic villain ever ;A;” gags

Regarding The Order’s affiliation with him I don’t.. MIND it, in fact I do like it as a set up for their coming together, I just wish it was written where the characters had some more agency and Marvel would actually allow them to move on once he’s gone. Admittedly with the Thanos 2019 comics they did seem to attempt this (despite how many holes it poked in the known canon among other things), and I liked some of the ideas presented, mainly The Order starting out as hired mercenaries with Proxima and Maw, I loved that a lot, and how their loyalty is conditional so long as they are benefiting from the partnership (maybe not as flip-floppy as they were in the comics) and are willing to dip out if they aren’t. THAT I really like even though that was clearly never the case in previous comics lol. The problem is that I- love Proxima SO MUCH, and I hate Thanos SO MUCH so my brain doesn’t want her anywhere near him, especially as some mindless lackey because she deserves better lol. Also my issues could stem from my primary introduction to The Black Order came from the MCU where they are VASTLY different characters than what they are in the comics, and far less developed so I had a lot more room to headcanon and make up my own stuff about them freely before I started looking into them in the comics (which could also explain my mixed feelings about how they’ve been written lately in the comics post-Thanos). I do want to preface that I don’t have a complete knowledge of The Order’s history because I can’t find complete lists of all the comics they’re in. Though from what I can find I’ve read most of their content if I’m not mistaken, but I’m sure there are some more obscure minor appearances that maybe explain some things that haven’t been listed anywhere that I’ve missed.

If I were to throw in my input and talk about MY rendition of The Black Order which is how I choose to write them based on my own personal tastes in my side AU where the Marvel Universe is much less CONVOLUTED(the same AU all my Ronan and Crystal content exists in), I have things set up jumping off the initial ideas of Thanos 2019, where the mercenary group Maw and Proxima were in were initially hired by Thanos, with Cull (I refer to Black Dwarf by his MCU name because I like it better lol) and Corvus being added later. And the affiliation is very conditional from The Order’s perspective. The Order are always watching and judging and gauging whether or not the partnership is worth maintaining, Maw and Proxima especially, and even though I try to write for Thanos as little as possible because I hate touching him and only do what’s absolutely necessary, he can feel the pulls of their defiance at times (with Proxima ESPECIALLY) and has to really think about how he holds onto them, hence the change from hiring adults to kidnapping children who are much easier to condition. Think of them as akin to the hyenas and Scar in The Lion King, loyalty and a willingness to do as they’re told until they stop benefiting from it (though the fear of being hunted down and killed for disloyalty keeps them there as well) and later on realizing, and some having known from the beginning, that they’re meant for more than just being servants and want more for themselves. But that’s in my perfect would.

What I mainly don’t like about how The Order were written under Thanos in the canon is that they’re just lackeys with not much to them, we know nothing about them like when or why they joined (prior to Thanos 2019 ofc but even then we still don’t knew when or how Cull and Corvus came into the picture), just that they did and that’s all that matters. They’re there because they’re evil and that’s about it, they’re blind followers with not a single thought going on in their own heads. That did change over time of course but The Order are STILL functioning under a “what if Thanos comes back” basis, like they’ll have no choice but to go crawling back to him whenever/if he does because that’s just what they do? I knew Marvel would never keep Thanos permanently dead in the comics like they said they would lol I called bullshit on that from day one. When Maw mentioned Thanos’ return in Star #5 I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly fell out of my mouth because I KNEW that was coming (though I do appreciate how Proxima didn’t give a single shit about it lmao). There was also something said preceding the Black Order solo comics in 2019 about how Corvus will still ALWAYS choose Thanos above all else, even his wife and brother, which made ZERO sense??? and also I wasn’t sure why this needed stating when Thanos was canonically dead in the comics following the statement that he’d be perma-dead. It felt like they just weren’t gonna let him grow as there was always that possibility they’d bring Thanos back and send The Order right back to him, undoing all the development they’ve done without him like they’ve done before. I remember when Thanos made Corvus kill himself after he returned and formed a new Black Order and Proxima just... didn’t react to it, though this seemed to be retconned after the universe reset so I’m still confused about that. I also think about how in the Death Sentence novel (and I know this kind of exists in it’s own separate universe but just discussing the overall mentality of writing The Order), again Corvus in particular is written like he needs someone to lead him or he can’t even properly function and he even has a full blown emotional breakdown when he realizes Thanos is back and I just… hate it. Him and Proxima “needing” Thanos to be their god and lead them it’s just stupid and weird and I can’t stand it. I remember Proxima even makes an internal statement about how Corvus falls apart when he doesn’t have someone leading him???

So my main issue in regards to Thanos’ affiliation with The Order as it’s written in the canon is that they’re written as if they can’t do anything without him, ofc this is all before the big universe reset with The Challenger where Thanos is supposedly dead for good but we all know that isn’t true. They were given some agency when they were on their own but with the mention of Thanos in the recent Star comic I have… little hope for them remaining their own thing. They talk about how they don’t want to be servants and how they want to do their own thing then the writers have them fall right back into their old beats of being servants for someone and chasing infinity stones and worrying about what T fucking Hanos will think when he comes back and I just…….. want more for them. I want them to be more fleshed out as characters and have actual ambitions and goals that align with their actions. Because they’re such interesting characters that I genuinely love(well most of them) and have a lot of potential, and I want to see them grow and develop and actually follow through with what they say and not get dragged backwards every time the plot requires them to. I’m still catching up on all my Black Order related comics (there aren’t a lot of complete lists of their appearances out there for me to refer to sadly but I’ve read most of the major ones I believe) but all I really want is for them to finally and actually be able to move on from Thanos. Especially with Corvus because (prior to Star #5 which I’ll expand on in a sec) it makes him look fucking stupid to have him default to “we chase the infinity stones because that’s what we do” after having them talk in previous comics about about how they want to be different and work for themselves, and Black Swan is like “chasing the stones has only ever made us miserable, whymst are we doing this???” and have her bring up valid points about how they don’t need to and Corvus is still just like “nope, nope we gotta.” and doesn’t even explain why. And now apparently that ‘why’ is because they expect Thanos to return? Or at least Maw does? I choose to believe that Corvus wanted the reality stone because it could give them some protection from a possible return of Thanos and allow them to stay together and do as they please like they want. To “forge their own reality” as Corvus said in the Death Sentence novel ironically, that would at the very least be a reason to continue infinity stone hunting that I’d be on board with.

I dunno, lol perhaps my lack of the full scope with missing a few things from sporadic comics and just my own personal views and tastes regarding the characters clash a lot with how the canon wants to portray them and at the end of the day that just is what it is lol. I didn’t intend this to get so long and.. rambly, the subject of Thanos in general gets me on a soap box and I never know how to get off aah. But yeah I hope that made some semblance of sense? The main gist of the story was really that sentence about loving Proxima and hating Thanos so I just naturally want her nowhere near him; and it was actually that affiliation that put me off of The Order for so long before I finally saw the light and realized they’re all vastly more interesting characters than he is LMAO. But I’m gonna stop because this just hit it’s 3rd page in my google docs and I’m starting to get embarrassed wheezes :’D

#Ask Matsu #[ I don't even know what to tag this lmao #I've been refreshing on comics so if I don't have all my facts straight and am just making myself look dumb then whoops i guess lol #i just don't like thanos man..#like at all i hate him so much he embodies the worst of shitty villain writing to me #and it sometimes sadly bleeds into the order who don't deserve it #I guess that may be why I prefer their mcu versions so much more because they're more blank slates i can do as i please with #because the marvel comic universe is so convoluted at this point it's honestly exhausting trying to even think about keeping facts straight #proxissima

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gaycrouton · 6 years ago

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Hey! If you’re looking for a prompt, I’m really in the mood for some post-revival happy, domestic fluff and/or smut. Something that includes Jackson & baby #2 maybe?

So I randomly remembered I had this sitting in my google doc, it’s a little shaky, and totally out of my comfort zone - but I hope you like it. No Jackson, just little domestic snippets of Mulder, Scully, and their love child.

Mulder always thought he’d die alone. That’s not in the self-deprecatory sense, just honesty. He didn’t think he would ever find someone that would put up with him. Someone who would willingly want to, at that. He was obsessive, he was intense, and he had a hard time opening up to people. Let alone the fact that his head was constantly in the sky looking for aliens and UFOs, missing any opportunities that were right in front of him to make human connection. But he supposed the anecdote was right: if one’s head goes high enough, they’re bound to find an angel. He sure did. A scientific, rational, passionate angel.

Scully.

With her red halo and ability to absolve him with her touch, give him penance with her words. He thought he was lucky enough just having her. Living side by side with the woman who meant the world to him. Then, in some cosmic phenomena, someone else came into his life.

Katherine Mulder-Scully. The ultimate combination of the two of them. A little girl with hair as red as a fox, and eyes so blue he found a new sky to get lost in. He thinks the nurse might have been concerned with how much Scully and himself were crying. Born exactly on the due date, 7 pounds and 11 ounces, and in perfect health. After years of struggling with this or that, he was happy he finally had something so exactly as planned.

Scully said fatherhood suited him. He hoped that was true. When she cried in the night, he’d be running. If she needed a diaper change, a bottle, a hug, or a kiss, he was right there. He was at the beck and call of an infant and he’d honestly have it no other way.

“She’s a daddy’s girl, you know that, right?” Scully teased him once as he bounced the giggly girl on his lap.

“Why do you think that?” he asked, peppering the giggling baby with kisses to prolong the music in the air.

“The first time she crawled was to get in your lap, her first steps were in your arms, she wails if you aren’t paying her any attention,” Scully laughed.

“May I remind you that you were right beside me for all those examples. Impossible to determine,” he offered.

“No, I know I’m right,” she praised with a smile, placing a kiss to his shoulder. “No grudges here, I understand completely where she’s coming from,” she added, wrapping her arms around him as she made faces at Katie.

Then the little baby confirmed Scully’s hypothesis. “Dah-dee,” she babbled, grabbing onto Mulder’s nose, her favorite part of him. Mulder and Scully gasped and turned to each other in proud enthusiasm.

Her first word.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she was three, she went through an ‘everything makes me cry’ phase. He liked to argue it was harder for him than it was for her. Every time those bright blue eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip quivered, he felt like he wanted to do the same. Scully teased him a lot for being the most emotionally invested father in the world, but behind her teasing tone he could see the adoration and happiness she really felt. What could he say? He just wanted his girls to be happy.

Her crying wasn’t out of not getting her way, like with most three year olds; it was out of a profound empathy that Scully liked to joke was genetically passed down from him. He didn’t know about that, but what he did know was that he loved his daughter. The daughter who cried hysterically when she saw a sick person on the tv, when a dog on the street didn’t appear to have an owner, whenever she realized the world was mean, despite his best efforts to shield her from that one truth.

Once she spontaneously started crying during breakfast, big, fat tears that rolled down her cheeks like waterfalls. They had just been eating when she stared between them for a moment, as if truly seeing them for the first time, before the waterworks started. They had no idea what could have caused her outburst. When she was able to catch her breath, she whimpered, “Is daddy sick?”

Mulder looked down at himself. He was wearing an old grey t-shirt and some sweatpants. He hadn’t had taken the time to brush his hair since it was Saturday and they had nowhere to go, but he didn’t think he looked that bad.

“Why would you say that, sweetheart?” Scully asked kissing her cheeks as if she could kiss away her distress.

Her face crumpled and she turned to Scully, keening to the gods “No red hair!” From her throne on her stool, she pointed a chubby finger at his offending head, glaring at the strands of brown hair through an ocean of tears.

Scully’s face took on that impenetrable mask of an adult trying not to hurt a child’s feelings by laughing at them, but struggling to contain their adoration. “You’re worried because Daddy’s hair isn’t red?” She asked, her voice drenched in amusement.

Katie haphazardly pulled at a strand of Scully’s hair with a fist as she held it up to her own scalp, a crimson masterpiece.

Mulder’s heart overflowed with love. In his daughter’s world, her hair was red, mommy’s hair was red, so something must be wrong with daddy. Seeing the big fat globs of tears streaming down her face at the prospect of something setting him apart from them made him want to rush over and smother her with love. So he did.

He kissed her all over and reassured her that he was healthy, even though he was a brunette. In true Scully fashion, she had to tug on his scalp to make sure everything checked out before believing him. Then, as if she hadn’t been bawling a moment ago, she sniffled and asked, “Do you wan’ red hair?”

He was curious what she would have offered if he said yes, but he just shook his head. “Nope, it doesn’t matter what color hair I have, because I spend all my time looking at you and mommy.”

He received two beaming smiles, and an affirmation that he’d made the right choice. “Good,” she stated, picking up her neglected Cheerios. Scully burst out laughing and he couldn’t help but join her.

She insisted Katie’s empathy came from him, but only someone with Scully blood had ever cared for him like that.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she was four, Scully brought her into his office and he could tell it was going to be good from the way Scully was biting back a smile. The smile that screamed “Our daughter did something adorably cute, but she’s taking this very seriously and I don’t want her to think I’m making fun.” A smile they each wore multiple times a day. As they got closer to him, Katie all the sudden seemed to get shy and buried her face into Scully’s pant leg, peeking at him over the stretched fabric with a mischievous smirk as she held something behind her back.

“Hello my loves, what’s going on?”

“So,” Scully began, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Katie saw on the calendar that next Sunday is father’s day-”

“Tha’s you!” Katie squealed, jumping up once on impatient feet.

Mulder gasped and opened his eyes in mock-shock, “Really?” he exclaimed.

The little girl took a step over so he could see her nod her head enthusiastically, still grabbing onto Scully. The taller redhead snorted lightly before continuing, “-but someone got a little excited and wanted to celebrate right now.”

“Celebrate?” he asked. Katie had been too young to understand the past few years, so usually Scully and him just celebrated in bed when the evidence of his fatherhood went to sleep.

“She made something for you,” Scully explained. She bent down so she was closer to eye level with the blushing little girl. “Go show him, okay? He’s going to love it.”

Katie regarded her with her big eyes before they latched onto him. Slowly she padded her way towards him and he held his arms out to lift her onto his lap. “What did you make sweetheart?” he asked, kissing her ruby ringlets.

Instead of answering, she shoved a piece of paper at him. He took it gently and looked at the top.

1040 U.S. JOINT INCOME TAX RETURN

He glanced up to Scully and she mouthed ‘other side’. Flipping it over he saw an elaborate crayon drawing. In the middle there was a figure with brown spiky hair and a big smile holding up a shorter, smiling red headed figure with black high heels and an even shorter red headed figure with manic curls and a smile so big you could see all her teeth. “Oh, Katie, is this us? I love it?” he praised earnestly.

“Mhm,” she affirmed, nodding her head so hard her whole body moved. She pivoted on his lap so she could point. “Tha’s you, a-and you’re holdin’ up me an’ mommy,” she explained.

“Wow, I must be really strong,” he exclaimed.

“Mhm, mhm, look, I gave you mus-muscles.” Taking a closer look, he saw that she quite literally made him more muscular than he’d even been in his entire life. “Because-because, you’re so strong an’ you always hug me and mommy and I like it when you pick me up,” she rambled adorably, stumbling over her words a bit in excitement.

Mulder looked up and saw Scully using a hand to cover her smile, enraptured by the scene in front of her. He kissed her temple a few times until she squealed in laughter. When he stopped a different part of the drawing stood out to him and he pointed at a red rectangle attached to his neck. “What’s that Katie-bear?”

“Issa cape,” she proclaimed. “Because you are my sooperman, an’ you always make me feel safe and you al-always take care of me. An-and you make me happy. See,” she said pointing to the smile on cartoon-Katie. “You make me smile an’ I love you!” she declared, pointing to all the hearts surrounding them. She had to have at least drawn close to one hundred hearts in waxy precision.

“I love you so much, Katie,” he whispered, hugging her tightly against him. It was hard to get the words out through the clenching of his throat. His face felt hot and he could feel the tears pooling in his eyes as his lip quivered.

Scully must’ve noticed because she walked around to the other side of him and placed a kiss on his head, rubbing circles into his back, misty-eyed herself.

He felt so loved. So unconditionally loved.

When he was a child, safe and loved were just dreams he had intermittently mixed within the nightmares. He got disdain and resentment, and he was determined to give his daughter a better life. Hearing her so innocently confirm he was doing that was overwhelming. In her eyes, he did no wrong. For a man tainted by self-doubt, it was the best gift he could receive.

“Daddy are you sad?” she asked, bringing an uncoordinated hand up to wipe at his face.

He grabbed the tiny little hand and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss to her palm. “No, honey. You make me so happy. I love you and mommy so much, you two are my whole world.”

“But you’re cwying,” she said, kissing his cheeks like her mommy did for her when she was sad.

“Because he loves you so much he can’t contain it all in his body,” Scully explained from above him. He could tell by her voice she was having a hard time containing her love in her body too.

“You guys are silly,” she giggled, hugging him back.

His journey started when a little girl was taken away from him, and never in his wildest dreams did he imagine it would end with him getting the gift of bringing a new little girl into the world.

A little girl birthed by the love of his life. His, hers, theirs.

#x files fanfic #msr fluff #msr domestic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #gaycrouton #prompts

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lovekatsukibakugo · 6 years ago

Text

Bad Habits [Katsuki Bakugo x Reader]

This is super short so I guess it counts as an actual Drabble! It’s only a page long in Google Docs (where I write all my stuff) and that’s funny because usually I never go below two pages!

Warning for accidentally self harm (?) I don’t know if that’s how I’m supposed to tag it, but okay, lets go with it. (adding this in kinda late, but warning for some gory stuff and blood)

I hope you guys injoy and if you could give me some feed back, I would love it! I love receiving criticism and interacting with all of you!

You were walking down hallway with your boyfriend, Bakugo, holding his hand in yours somewhat tightly. He wasn’t the type to be all cutesy with the PDA, but he liked showing everyone around you that you were his. So he was holding your hand, but if you wanted to swing your hands as you walked, it was a big fat no. He was a simple guy when it came to your relationship. He didn’t like PDA, but succumbed to hand holding when he realized other people were eying you. And he hated that more than anything else. Plus, after some time, he started to like it.

Everything seemed peaceful and normal for once, or at least as normal as they can be. You were blissfully unaware of the odd look your boyfriend was giving you, though to everyone else it may have looked like an annoyed stare. He was thinking, possibly a little too had into things. But he felt how rough your fingers were against his skin. Now he might of let it slide if it had to do with your quirk, but he knew for a fact that your quirk didn’t damage your hands. He took a sneaky glance at them, not noticing anything too out of the ordinary, but your nails were short, too short to be comfortable.

He didn’t say anything about it as he looked at you again, noticing your other hand was to your mouth. He tugged you closer to him, making you turn your head to him and smile. He couldn’t resist your smile, even though he was concerned, and gave you a smug (loving) smirk back.

The two of you continued to walk along, until he pulled you into a lonely corner and pinned you to the wall. He will repeatedly tell everyone how much he hates PDA, and it’s true, but there are times when he cannot help himself. He just gets the overwhelming urge to kiss you and will pull you to a darker area where no one will find the two of you - unless they were really looking - and kiss you. And this is what he was about to do when he saw a small dribble of blood sliding down your chin. You felt it and immediately wiped it away, but it was too late. He was inspecting the damage done to your lips.

The were bloodied and raw, the skin mostly gone from them. You had chewed it all away out of nervous habit. You had done something similar to your fingernail, picking them down while in class and causing them to bleed. None of it was on purpose, you just couldn’t help it! Your mind was running wild and giving you so much worry.

“What happened?” he asked lowly, looking at you with all the concern he felt in his eyes. This was a side of him only you saw, because sure he could be worried for others, but he didn’t care for them as much as he cared for you.

“I didn’t mean to do it, it just happened, and I’m sorry. I just can’t help it when I’m nervous and worried, so it just happens. I know it’s stupid and bad and crazy, and I’m trying to stop. It’s just really hard.” You spoke in rapid fire and he barely caught what you had said, but he stopped your rambling by cupping your face in his hands. He looked you dead in the eyes and gave you a small smile.

“You’re okay,” he told you, kissing your forehead. “I’ll help you break the habit, but first you have to tell me what has you so worked up and nervous.”

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falseroar · 6 years ago

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Dark Laughter Part 9: Storm Warning

((Hi! Here are links to Part 8: Studio Time and Part 1: What Dark Saw if you want/need them! Quick warnings for gunshots and a brief mention of blood.))

“Hey there Chica Beeka, who missed me?” Mark said as the dogs ran around him and Amy back at his house. They acted as if their people had been gone for days not hours, and when Mark patted his chest and called, “Up! Up!” it took several tries before Chica listened and he could catch her front paws and gently swing her back and forth.

“I’m never sure who’s more excited when we come home, you or Chica,” Amy teased as she pet Henry.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mark said, grunting a little as he picked Chica up and spun her around a few times before putting her back down. He kept up the baby talk for the dogs a little longer, but they were soon distracted by the new toys Mark and Amy had brought home with them.

“Thank you,” he said, again. “I think getting out of the house was good for me.”

“Sunlight will do that to you,” Amy said, smiling as she went to put her bag down on the couch. “Good thing we went out when we did, it looks like it’s going to start pouring any minute now.”

“Yeah,” Mark said. He pulled back the window curtain to look up at the darkening sky. “It’s just supposed to rain, right?”

“I can check,” Amy said, already pulling out her phone.

Chica walked up to Mark with her new rope toy in mouth, and he managed to distract himself for a second trying to pull it away from her before Amy said, “Oh.”

She showed him the new storm warning on the weather app and he immediately said, “I should call Y/N.”

Amy nodded, and Mark could feel her listening as he called up your cellphone, only to swear when it just rang and rang before going to voicemail. Without bothering to leave a message, he hung up and had to dig through his contacts to find a number he rarely used.

“What’s it to you?” Abe answered his phone.

“What kind of—” Mark stopped himself. “Abe, it’s Mark. Can I talk to Y/N?”

“Y/N? Oh, right, I forgot to tell you,” the Detective said. “I dropped Y/N off at the other guys’ house. Doc said they were running a little fever, but it wasn’t anything serious.”

“What?” Mark said.

“What?” Amy mouthed from the other side of the room.

“Something wrong?” Abe asked.

“Y/N’s with Dr. Iplier, they’re not feeling well,” Mark said to Amy. “I should go over there, if the storm gets bad…”

He trailed off and Amy nodded. She had seen you jump even at the sound of thunder on the TV, and knew what it meant to you and the others who had been at the house that weekend.

“I can stay here with the dogs and keep them calm,” she said and Mark hesitated. As much as he didn’t want to leave them, he didn’t want to drag her or the dogs out into bad weather.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised.

“Wait, you’re going over there?” Abe asked, and Mark could hear the rattle of blinds on the other end of the line. He could imagine the Detective peering out at the sky overhead as he heard a sharp inhale before Abe said, “My place is on the way. If something’s wrong, then I’m coming with you.”

“What? Nothing’s wrong,” Mark said and heard the disbelief on the other end. “I’m going to check up on them, that’s all. Besides, you can’t just invite yourself along. I am not stopping to pick you up.”

“Then I’ll drive over there myself,” Abe answered. “This is my partner we’re talking about—”

“That has nothing to do with anything!” Mark heard the rattle of the Detective’s keys and sighed. “You know what, fine. But you better be ready to jump in when I drive by, because I’m just going to slow down and open a door. Last thing I want to do is be caught out in LA traffic in the rain.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I jumped into a moving car,” Abe said. “Or out of one.”

Mark didn’t bother with responding to that and just hung up on the Detective before giving Amy a real goodbye. Out in the van, he popped his phone into the holder on the dash and had it call Dr. Iplier as he backed out of the driveway and took off.

Almost immediately, he heard, “You’ve reached the office of Dr. Iplier. If this is about how you’re dying, please—”

Mark ended the call and told the phone to call Dr. Iplier’s cell, but that also went to voicemail. He was halfway to Abe’s house before his phone rang with a Google G in place of the caller’s image.

“Hey Google, are you with the doctor?” Mark asked.

“That is correct. We have only just now found a signal in our current location,” Google answered.

“Your—Aren’t you at the house?”

“Incorrect. This unit accompanied the doctor and the so-called King of the Squirrels into the woods, where the cell signal is entirely inadequate. Even here at this cabin, we only have a minimum connection to the other units.”

“Cabin?” Mark felt a bad taste rise in the back of his throat and swallowed it back. “What are you doing there?”

“The Host is incapacitated. Dr. Iplier has only just been able to bring him around, and he is babbling—”

“What?” Mark had to swerve back into his lane and forced himself to focus on the road and not on his phone. “What was he doing at the cabin?!”

“Unclear. The King of the Squirrels says that one of his… ‘subjects’ saw him enter this place, and when he arrived, he found him bound and incoherent. My words, not his.”

Straining, Mark could hear the doctor’s voice, clear and professional, and below that a raspy, rambling murmur. He pulled the van into a parking spot on the street in front of the low, run-down building the Detective called home and just stared at the phone, trying to let this sink in.

“Someone attacked him?” Mark asked.

He guessed that it was the King who answered, judging by the tone of his voice as he said, “He just kept saying he wasn’t infected, that he was in control. Over and over again.”

Silence fell on the other end of the line, and by straining Mark could hear the Host’s voice, faint and strained past recognition.

“Mask…is back.” A rasping wheeze. “It looked like…Y/N.”

Mark stared at Abe’s house as silence fell on both ends of the call before Dr. Iplier started barking orders and Google spoke about protocols, directives. Their words fell on deaf ears as Mark just kept hearing the Host’s words over and over again.

Suddenly, he swore, and then swore three more times in quick succession before jumping out of the van without bothering to end the call or even shut the door behind him.

Because it just sank in that the door to Abe’s house was standing wide open despite the rain already starting to come down, despite the fact that the Detective would never forget to lock the door behind him. It creaked in the wind as Mark ran toward it, and made a deafening crack as he pushed it out of his way and went in.

Only to come to an abrupt stop in the front hall, frozen at the sight of Abe standing with his back against the wall, both hands on his gun but unable to point it directly at the person standing opposite him.

It looked like you, except its eyes were two black holes that revealed nothing underneath and its mouth was turned in a horrible slash of a smile as it stared at the Detective. As if waiting to see what he would do.

“Abe, get away from it! It’s not Y/N!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Abe yelled, a vein showing in his forehead as his eyes kept flickering toward the bloodstain on its chest and then back up to those empty eyes. He tightened his grip on the gun, but it only seemed to tremble more as he tried to raise it. “What is this thing? Why does it look like Y/N?!”

“Shh, it’s okay, detective, we’re not here for you,” it said, the Mask wearing your face. Its voice was like yours, but just slightly distorted, as if just a pitch higher or lower than it should be while putting the emphasis in all the wrong places. “Hahaha, that would just be silly. Our business is with the man with all the masks. Of course, you could always shoot me, if you wanted to. This wouldn’t be the first partner to die at yours hands, would it?”

“You’re not my partner,” Abe said, but his eyes flickered toward Mark.

“No, this is the thing that attacked everyone last year,” Mark said, keeping his eyes on it. “It ran around looking like me, taking over most of my egos and trying to kill the rest of us until we got rid of it. That thing is just a mask, Y/N is—"

He stopped short and the smile on its face got just that much bigger.

It had possessed the others before, making them all look like it with those empty eyes and rictus smiles.

What if this really was you?

Abe looked from him to the Mask and back again, eyes too bright as he demanded, “Well? Is this them or not?”

“I…” Mark trailed off.

“How do we snap them out of it?” Abe said, voice growing louder with every question. “What did you do last year?”

“I didn’t do anything; we could barely do anything to it! Y/N did something, dragged it back into that place they were trapped in inside the mirror—”

The mirror, which was now completely shattered.

“So long in that mirror, in that nothing, so long being nothing without even a face to call my own. Heh, you have no idea, do you? Oh, not when you have so many faces to choose from.” It laughed, its mouth not quite matching the sound, and pulled a wallet out of its pocket. Abe shouldn’t have been able to tense any more than he already was, but that vein in his forehead grew bigger at the sight of his gift to Y/N in the hands of this thing. As it spoke, the Mask opened the wallet and began tossing cards out of it and onto the ground. Mark recognized them as the cards the egos had given you back at the beach on your “birthday”, each of them a promise to spend time with you. Cards of Bing, Dr. Iplier, Bim Trimmer, one ego after the other clattered to the floor as the Mask tossed them aside as if they meant nothing. “One, two…There’s just so many to choose from, and that’s just the start when so many of your lovely fans want to be just like you.”

The last card fell to the ground and the Mask tossed the wallet aside with a laugh that made both of the men shudder.

“Not going to happen,” Mark said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “What’s it going to take to get rid of you again?”

“Silly. Haven’t you been listening? Only thing we want is to just make everyone happy. Once we’re through, there’ll be so many lovely smiles, so many people who look just like me, like us. That’s why we have to take care of all those people who ruined our fun last time!” The Mask laughed and then tilted its head at an angle your neck shouldn’t have been able to go. “Maybe we can take care of all that pesky unfinished business by the time you join us. Even if we have to make them smile.”

The Mask wearing your face moved for the first time, stepping on the fallen cards as it suddenly broke into a sprint toward Abe, empty eyes trained on his as its smile opened.

Mark called out and winced, hands going to his ringing ears as one shot then two rang out.

“Abe! Abe, put the gun down,” Mark said, and repeated it before prying the weapon out of the Detective’s unresisting hands.

The moment the gun left Abe’s hands he pressed them to his head and slid to the ground, eyes clenched shut as he began to hyperventilate. “No, no, no…”

“No, Abe, look, there’s nothing there,” Mark said. He shook the Detective’s shoulder. “It’s gone, you didn’t—It’s gone.”

Abe opened one watering eye and stared at the empty hall in front of him. There wasn’t even a sign of where his bullets went in the opposite wall, but his ears still rang with the sound of the shot and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking no matter how many times Mark tried to tell him it was okay.

“I could have…” The Detective inhaled, his breath breaking on the words.

“Abe, I can’t stay here,” Mark said. “I have to get to the house, if that wasn’t Y/N…I have to make sure they’re okay, warn the others—”

He stopped and swore, remembering the call. It had already attacked the Host, if it went after the others looking like you—

And then he swore again.

“Dark saw it, he saw it last night, so it can’t be Y/N.” And he would keep telling himself that to keep from thinking about the alternative. He patted himself down and realized his phone was still out in the van.

Abe grabbed his arm as he started to stand and said, “I’m…I’m going with you. Just, just give me a second.”

Mark offered a hand to help the Detective up to his feet, but without a word Abe stood and picked up the wallet the Mask dropped, along with all of the scattered cards. He lagged behind as Mark ran out to the van in the downpour that had really started to come down while he was inside and picked up the phone. In his haste before, he hadn’t ended the call and voices were still talking on the other end.

“Google,” he said.

“You left me,” Google said, accusing.

“Yes, but it was important—”

“I was still speaking, and we registered gunshots on your end—”

“We saw it, we saw that…demon or whatever it is,” Mark interrupted. “It’s gone now, but we think it’s going back to the house. You need to send a warning to the others, now.”

He looked up as Abe got into the passenger seat and the Detective nodded and said, “It said it had unfinished business with the people who stopped it before.”

“I have already initiated the lockdown,” Google answered. “My other units have gathered the egos and are keeping them in their current locations until it is determined to be safe to leave or take other action.”

“What about Y/N? Are you still in the cabin?” Mark asked as he pulled the van out into the street, its windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the rain rushing down in torrents. At this rate, the roads were liable to start flooding.

“We can’t go anywhere,” Dr. Iplier answered. “The Host is in no condition to be moved, and Google can’t make it back to the house in this storm without risking a short circuit. But we left one of the other Googles with Y/N, they’re not alone.”

“Interfacing with other units,” Google said, and there was a beeping sound on the other end of the line. “The storm is interfering with my reception. Please hold.”

In the van, it was silent except for the rain pounding against the roof and the steady rhythm of the wiper blades across the windshield as they waited for what seemed like forever before the android spoke again.

“Red unit is in the studio with Bim Trimmer, Yandereplier, and Eric Derekson. Yellow unit is in the kitchen with Chef Iplier, Silver Shepherd, Ed Edgar—”

“You don’t have to list them all!” Mark shouted at the phone.

There was a pause and then Google said, “Green unit is in the infirmary but not responding. Y/N, Wilford Warfstache, and Darkiplier are currently the only ones unaccounted for.”

“What do you mean, he’s not responding?” Mark said, feeling his foot pressing harder against the accelerator even though he was already going too fast. Beside him, Abe tightened his grip on the handle above the passenger door but said nothing.

“The unit is receiving messages, but has yet to respond. Location indicators place it in the infirmary, and last directives it acknowledged included taking care of Y/N.”

“The Host,” Mark said, desperately. “He’s there, ask him.”

Dr. Iplier answered again, after a long pause. “Mark, the Host is in bad shape. I don’t know what they did to him, but judging by his bandages and his overexertion this morning I suspect he’s in need of a blood transfusion that we can’t give him here. He can barely speak, and even if he could narrate, he’s confused and delirious.”

“What about one of the others, back at the house?” Abe asked. “Can’t you send one of them to check?”

“Lockdown was initiated for a reason,” Google said. “Based on previous data, this so-called ‘Maskiplier’ prioritized infecting those who were alone and vulnerable. Splitting up the others would only put them at risk.”

Alone and vulnerable.

“Dark,” Mark muttered, his voice lost in the sound of the rain. Of course it would show itself to the one person no one would listen to or trust.

He remembered last night, the doubt and whispers and the sense that he hadn’t been alone in the hall and sped up again, his grip so tight on the wheel that his knuckles were turning white.

It could have done something last night, attacked him or Dark like it did the Host. But it chose to mess with their minds instead, and as lightning flashed across the sky Mark realized that it was still playing with them. Why else would it show up at Abe’s house, just when Mark was supposed to arrive? It wanted to taunt Abe into shooting “you”, and it wanted Mark to know exactly what it was doing.

As the others continued to talk and argue about what to do, as thunder shook the van and the rain continued to pour down, Mark stared at the road ahead and kept driving, even though he knew they would never make it to the house in time.

((End of Part 9. Thank you for reading! Google also forgot to account for the many, many squirrels, who are weathering out the storm in the living room and maybe a couple of the bedrooms. The King of the Squirrels was pretty sure no one would mind.

Here’s the link to Part 10: You Look Like Me.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

#markiplier #fanfic #angst #wkm actor mark #peebles #wkm y/n #wkm detective #maskiplier #dr. iplier #googliplier #the host #king of the squirrels #dark laughter #Poor Abe was never ready #His gun held so unsteady #What could he do #When it looked like you?

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