#my muse is super rusty right now

[bitchfromthecrypt]

I'm not starting a whole new blog for this lol,

I present to you all, the first four chapters of the second draft to my (hopefully) coming soon novel, "As We Know It"

Very loose bad bad awful summary: Powerhouse lawyer Angela nearly dies after a nuclear war, finds town full of previously assumed mythical creatures and makes a little home, meets hot vampire queen Khalida and hot Weredragon Nobel Patience D'Herensuge, and they fall in love a while after they find out they're soulmates. This leads to socialist anarchy.

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

Trigger warnings: Death, brief mention of suicidal ideation, war, nuclear war. description of Gore

Hope y'all enjoy!

Chapter One

If you asked Angela, she’d tell you, all doors really should be automatic.

It’d make life so much more convenient. You come inside from carrying a load of groceries and you don’t have to worry about futzing around with your keys, standing around for five minutes trying to figure out how to open a door that feels like it hates you.

This door definitely hated her, she mused.

Why wouldn’t it? She hadn’t used it in years, and now, finally, stupidly, she wanted to just open it up and waltz on out of the place she’d been safe and stuck inside of into a world that was probably filled with toxic waste, rats with human ears, and human flies? Did she want to avoid using it ever again that bad?

Maybe.

She reached a hand out to try to unlock, still jolting back like the lock itself had been exposed to radiation for the past three years.

She leaned back against the cold, rusty, steel walls, too tired to care about tetanus, thinking about the past for the millionth time that day.

God, Angela Weathers, top contract attorney at her firm, lover of parties, name brands and biannual vacations to wherever the dart landed on the map, never used to think about the past.

Angela, the last surviving human on earth, just sits in the dark talking to herself about it. On a good day.

“I should have just gone to the main office.” She said, outloud, for the billionth time.

“Daryl put some important documents down here in the bunker, but not often enough to even warrant a check, he had mentioned every other day upgrading the system, switching to using computers and the web.”

That was the other thing she did for fun, standing next to the door and pretending for a minute there was someone else on the other side of it.

‘Why did you?’ She imagined them asking, ‘When you heard the sirens, you could’ve walked out, the door was closing slowly enough.’

Groaning dramatically and banging the back of her head against the wall, wincing a bit, her fresh retie as pretty as it made her feel raising hell on her tenderheaded self.

“I don’t know. Probably the same reason no one else came down. Maybe they panicked, maybe they froze. Maybe their brain just made the smart decision for them.”

She turned firmly to face the door, reaching for the door again, more so to fidget with it than anything.

“You’d think, all of us, a group of thirty-somethings would be able to either follow the nuclear war briefs we’d been getting since we were ten or to make up our minds about whether or not surviving it would have made any goddamn sense.”

‘Well, of course,’ they’d say, ‘this place has everything you could need! Shampoo, jugs of water that tasted off even though they were filled with just water, just enough spironolactone to last you up until sometime between today and next year.’

“Canned peaches, canned chicken, canned ham, shoes that are too big for me, and super ugly,” she whined, kicking the ankle high industrial combat boots she hadn’t even tried to put on yet.

It's not like there was anywhere else she could go.

It didn't matter how much food, or water, she had left or how well the shelter’d been built.

Living there, alone and scared was much worse than anything that could happen to her out there, right?

Right.

She knew that.

So why couldn't she open the door?

She stood up, smacked her cheeks and tried not to think about how many times her coworkers and girlfriends had fixed her makeup for her after she’d done it.

She used the code, conveniently hidden under the eighty-seventh can of beans, she pushed all the right buttons and heard a little ringtone that probably used to sound melodic, at least a little happy, maybe a little annoying after a while.

All that came out was a quiet, rhythmic groan.

She could've opened the door then. She should have, honestly.

Why didn't she?

Is it the fact that she's probably killing herself just by thinking of abandoning the only thing that's been safe, no, certain after all these years?

Her books, as boring as they were, she couldn't take them with her, if she didn't pass out from toxic sludge inhalation she'd need to be able to move, and carrying around fifty seven American classics in the hopes of finding a nice spot in the shade to reread them wouldn’t be the wisest decision.

“No,” she said “I don't think it's any of that.

Or maybe it is. Maybe it's all of it.”

The hatch was open before she could think.

Mindless, like a robot programmed to keep taking one slow step after another until its batteries died, she walked down the short, but seemingly unending hallway, brown leather boots meant for someone five shoe sizes bigger than hers and all.

God, she wouldn’t have been caught dead in these before. God, the reads she would have gotten from Tamara alone. She would have demanded she go change.

‘If you’re gonna die, you have to do it wearing something cute, you can’t just be in an ugly ghost outfit for all eternity, what am I supposed to say when we meet in the afterlife and all my friends see you have those things on?’

Angela laughed a little bit thinking of her, thankfully. Crying gets boring after a year, and she wouldn’t have wanted her to be some sad sack forever.

She wouldn’t have wanted her to be leaving the bunker either, but she can’t make everyone happy.

She’d never really been that concerned with that particular hobby, to be fair.

She knew she was brilliant. Her mom had about twenty of the trans pride flag and harvard summa cum laude graduate bumper stickers on her car, she’d gotten her first and last job at counsel authority on the other side of the country at twenty-five, and she’d crafted about two thousand contracts per year for the greater half of her adult life.

She also got stuck in a baby swing at a playground at age twenty seven, while completely sober.

Now that was definitely it, that was the problem. That was the reason why she couldn’t bring herself to do any more than stand in front of the final barrier keeping her in and all of the fifty foot women and godzillas out. She was just thinking. Something Angela either did too much, or too little of at any given point in time.

The days she was really lucky, the days things always worked out for the best, were the days when she got to choose which one, as rare as they were.

“Today’s as rare as any other. Not much distinction between them anyway.”

Angela made the decision fairly quickly, to do a bit of both.

If she was gonna live, not just survive, but live, and thrive, she’d obviously need to think sometimes.

But if she was going to die, which she was fairly certain she was, she didn't want to realize it until it had already been good and done with.

Her eyes closed, and both hands on the comically normal looking doorknob, she tried and failed to empty her mind.

She wanted to rip every horrible thought straight out of it and toss it into the brand new paper shredder she had for a solid two days back in her office.

She imagined shredding pictures of Godzilla, of barren, gray, wasteland, of horrible chill that comes with stepping out into a nuclear winter that everyone around her had been talking about for years, of the loudest sound she'd ever heard in her life, just before she'd narrowly missed watching her family, her species, and the only world she'd ever known, one she now considered her favorite, die.

But you can’t really shred most of those things, can you?

She opened the door.

Chapter Two

There was not a single person in this small group of royals—which they’d resolved to refer to themselves as before they’d even agreed upon a space for them to meet—who was below a thousand years of age, including Patience, however they at least knew how to operate a simple pocket watch, and they’d woken up practically weeks ago for the first time in hundreds of years.

“Well what if we just let them loose?” Terry, queen of the spring court, a tall and spritely being who hadn’t done so much as read the pamphlet Patience had handwritten for each of them, began her neverending tirade of insisting on complete anarchy, not that she���d know that word. Too hard to spell.

“Terry, we have been over this. We need to enact some sort of system in order to avoid further harm. The lack of unity between nations is what led to this in the first place.” The leader of the Siromo tribe of mermaids, Amaka said, the only person Patience could hear over the crowd of voices, all insisting that the best moment to share their rebuttal was the exact same time as everyone else.

They got out of their chair, one of thirteen golden thrones that rested around their egregiously large golden roundtable, topped with designs carved out of opal and lapis lazuli, and went to drink some water from the lake outside, their notice of leave hanging ignored in the air.

Patience stared at themself in the lake, for many more minutes than it would take to shift and take a sip of water.

Who was he?

Gods, he’d barely remembered his family, he thought his father was kind, the last memory they’d had of him was the day he’d met his mother.

They were hunting, they were about to pull the trigger, killing some kind of bird or deer, probably, who knows, and something rumbled through the air.

If they were to describe it, they couldn't say it was a sound, or a feeling, as woefully simple as the thought was in their mind, it was just big.

The calling heaved through the air with such a strength they feared it would become corporeal and grab them.

They can't say they remember much of the evening after that. They couldn’t forget her, no matter how long they’d tried to.

With her wild red hair, her braids that reached far beyond the floor in her tall and daunting human form being the main reason she preferred to stay a dragon.

She had held him very often when he’d cried. They couldn’t remember why, they just know her cool scales as she nuzzled him the way a cat does a kitten had made many of their nights as a young child feel safe, despite sleeping in the dark woods. ALthough wolves were not as frightening as dragons, there was not much reason to be fearful.

It was unwise of her to grow old. The one thing she did that made Patience angry with her after all of the years they’d spent together, her only unforgivable act.

She said she hadn’t wanted to watch him die, they’d been sick for months, only coming out on days when it was warm enough that they didn’t feel they’d break in two if they took a single step. She said that no mother should have to watch her child as such. That she would instead gift him with what she had been gifted eons ago, that only one dragon could exist in a space at any given time.

And she died. She chose to.

Patience had mourned. He slept his days away and the amount of time he spent awake and aware of the world shrunk as each year passed, and by the time they felt anything once again, they had realized that being aware hadn’t improved their days by any measure.

The only reason they were awake now is there were no other options.

These people were not suited for the title they’d deigned themself with, and he wasn’t either. But if he did nothing, then they’d have no reason to be, and that would mean she’d have gone for no reason at all.

Their musings were interrupted by the sound of the door flying open and the feral gaze of the vampire queen settling on him for one long moment before she went barreling into the forest.

They shook a little bit, all seventy thousand pounds of him chilled a bit more than you’d think their cool blood would allow for.

They did not like that woman.

She definitely had a strong heart, for lack of a better word, but anything that required complete focus, sitting still, and following the rules of bureaucracy seemed like methods she would and has used to torture her enemies.

Well, more torture in addition to it, but still.

Patience was a royal now. It was his job. He’d agreed to his position when the time came, and she had as well.

He would never understand why.

The vampiress had never spoken more than a few words to Patience and yet, they found themself consumed by either irritation or at her every action, or lack thereof.

She’d behaved like every other “Royal” had, with no real regard for the reason they were there.

The humans were dead.

As was their trade, and their cameras, and their policies, and more of their animals than any creature left behind would like.

The world, at least as every last semi-immortal being knew it, had changed beyond comprehension, and the entire remaining population had entrusted this too small room full of those of all different species, religions, cultures, and walks of life in general to come up with something resembling a solid plan.

The few months immediately after they'd gone were horrendous.

The fairfolk nearly went extinct from the lack of breathable air, of foliage, and of general smog.

Every last being on earth had to work together to bring this planet back, and despite the fights, trickery, and grief, they'd managed it.

And they'd be damned if they let themselves get to the point of destroying it all over again.

This meeting was more than a casual party, it was the beginning of every decision ever to be made for the rest of the world.

And so, on the seventieth of the initial meetings, in which all the leaders were supposed to be present, when Patience would find they would be missing one crucial vampire queen. And the anxieties would rise, Patience’s blood would slowly but surely begin to curdle at the ever rising idea that someone must go to retrieve her before the week should end, before they all go back to their kingdoms having wasted days, which while not exactly a huge amount of their lives, were still full of painful small talk and brash comments, only to maintain the same stalemate they've been in since their worlds got turned upside down.

They weren’t aware of it, hearing her quiet but not inaudible footsteps ring through the forests, but they would be the one to see to it that she would return shortly.

Chapter Three

The thing you'll have to remember about Khalida, is that she's not selfish, not in the true sense of the word.

To be selfish, you’d have to be aware of the fact that you are a person. That you exist. That the people around you have lives and feelings and that this fact should matter to you.

Most days, Khalida was not a person. She was a force. A force that used to need to eat.

She still could. She thinks about it sometimes. As much as she could think.

Khalida was no longer one to think.

She had been, for a bit of time. When she was a child she thought constantly, even more so as an adult..

Then the first century passed, and she hadn't aged a day, and all that time and money and all those vastly different lives, well, they added up.

And after the nine hundredth body, after the millionth piece of gold, it's kind of hard to recognize that those around you, or even you, yourself, matter.

So when khalida was in the meeting, imagining how the leader of the good neighbor’s summer court would taste and what noise she’d make when she felt her teeth in her carotid—not the most ideal place, but beggars couldn’t be choosers some days, and it’d be a great deal of work to find a better spot, and she smelled it, she was confused.

The scent, somewhere off in the woods, it was sweat, dirt, and most importantly, human.

And the faintest hint of Guerlain Shalimar.

Did she think before she ran after it?

Yes. More than she should’ve.

Chapter Four

When she saw those kids—kids? She still wasn't sure, they were way too small to be kids—standing at the very top of a tree and giggling to themselves about a joke she immediately knew she'd never get, Angela thought for a second that maybe things would be ok.

This changed after she realized their size.

And their pointy ears.

And their limbs that bent at such odd angles, and the thousands of colors on them that no human should be able to see, let alone have in their clothes.

And that one of them jumped straight down the length of the tree only to catch themself a millisecond before hitting the ground and using their deceptively strong dragonfly-like wings to soar right back up to the top.

She considered going back into the bunker, just for a second, but a phrase popped into her head that rang so familiar to her, “Ah, poor Miss Taylor, she would be very glad to stay!” from Jane Austen's Emma. and the urge to turn back dissipated. Because as lovely as the story was, and as strange as those not children were, she should not remember that line.

Either she was hallucinating and her brain was really capitalizing off of that human fly thing or she was psychic. Both would mean something new, and at this point, she’d take it.

She stared up at them, enthralled, unable to move. Realizing with each passing moment that she was allowed to stare how their skin glowed, how their eyes were too wide, how some of them even had flat, horizontal pupils, like goats or something.

In hindsight, she probably should have noticed they were staring back at her much earlier than she did.

But when the whispers and giggles stopped, and eyes that were crinkled with smile lines turned cold and hard upon seeing her, it didn’t take long for her to become as hopeless as someone in her situation. ought to be.

The first one to jump down was neon pink, Angela couldn’t have recalled many other details about her, because it hurt to look at her for too long. She landed directly in front of Angela before she could blink and asking a million questions before she could open her mouth to say “hi! I'm Angela, I apologize for staring at you like some massive freakazoid, I only did it because you don't look normal in any sense of the word.”

“Who are you? I've never seen you before. What brings you here? Are you human? You are, aren't you, oh I used to love humans, sorry about what happened, anyways, how are you holding up? How did you hold up? Where are the rest of you? What do you have in your bag? Why are you wearing those horrific shoes?”

Angela nearly felt embarrassed for staring into the minuscule creature's bright yellow eyes for a full minute as she kept going, not processing a word she said, she got the feeling this was just how fast people—were they people?—talked now.

“I'm sorry, can you repeat...all of that?”

Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a second, if she shook her head and clicked her heels three times, she'd open them and all the creatures would be people, recognizably human people who are seconds away from directing her to a fallout shelter away from whatever poisonous fumes were floating in the air and making her hallucinate.

She tried.

They didn’t.

They only giggled at her.

Instead of responding, her brain decided to not only short circuit, but make her silently weep, in front of a new bunch of strangers, the first five minutes of her reintroduction to the world and she’s already crying in front of complete strangers.

“Aww, pretty one, why are you crying?”

They all swarmed her, the little people, some trying to wipe her tears away, flying back and shaking like a dog upon realizing their leaf skirts were drenched.

“Can you cry less messy?”

Mumbling more to herself than to the small beings she guessed were fairies, she dabbed at her tears to avoid making her imaginary mascara run, “I’m alright, I'm fine, I'm sorry, I'm fine.”

The faeries gave each other a look, one seemed to be asking something of the others, if the body language of this version of the world was the same, Angela guessed tiny neon pink lady vehemently disapproved.

Her lip reading was shot, not that it had ever been great, but despite not being able to make out what they were saying, she knew that look very well. ‘That’s the look you get from friends and family members before you do something very funny, and very stupid,’ she thought.

She used to find it funny.

“Well, if you're really sorry, you can come with us.”

One of them, a small orange one, covered in little green droplets, it looked like a leaf on the first day of fall that actually feels like the season’s changed. He flew directly in front of her face, making her go cross eyed to focus on him. It rested its hand directly onto her nose.

“What?” Angela asked, sounding and feeling so much weaker than she’d like to seem at this moment.

“Yeah! You could come with us! It's so much better where we're from, the food, the music! Oh the clothes, imagine how good you'd look decked in this frock!”

A different one, less human looking with the many different shaped spots covering its dark brown body. They gestured to their…dress? Skin? Whatever it was, it wanted Angela to picture herself in it.

Unsettled as she was, she did.

It felt like a movie. She saw herself, sitting at a table, full of every possible food you could think of, from a good plate of ribs and some pecan pie to cream filled donuts, and more food that she could not attempt to identify than food she could, but they made her mouth water all the same.

Shifting quickly, like a dream that had completely shifted in plot, suddenly she was waltzing on a pink glass dance floor, while she somehow still felt soft grass under her, wrapped in the arms of a different person with every beat change, never without a glass of some wine she also couldn't quite identify in her hand.

She pictured sleeping in a bed full of these other beings, the same size as them now, inside of a hollow in a tree, the dull glow of the moon bathing over them as she curled into a ball and closed her eyes, drifting away.

The first minute since she left in which she felt safe, as fractured and dangerous as it was, disappeared before her eyes as the image faded and in its wake was the sight of all of the little things peeling off into the air far away from her.

The rejection didn’t have long to set in.

There are many things Angela could say would be her biggest nightmare.

Things like, being alone in a bunker for a year with the knowledge that everyone she'd ever met, everyone she'd ever loved, everyone who she might have become great friends, lovers, family with; was dead.

Things like beginning to forget the faces she's known her entire life.

Things like waking up in the middle of the night convinced that life no longer held any meaning.

The weird forest full of things she couldn't understand didn't scare her that much, in comparison.

This thing did.

She didn't know how to talk to those…bugs? Small people? Flower people? But there was no realm where she could possibly comprehend whatever It was.

By the time she’d started running, which was shortly after she’d turned around to see it, she’d realized two things.

One, that it was nothing. Like, truly nothing. An empty space where something should be, the dead winter that makes a noise that should ring in your ears suffocate under snow.

Two, it wanted to kill her.

This was new.

Those things, the people that abandoned her to face this thing that she couldn’t look in the eye, because it had no face, even though her entire body shuddered every few seconds because the hairs on the back of her neck raised like it was a person staring at her.

The sudden onslaught of darkness didn’t register to angela as she ran, narrowly avoiding tripping over her feet, her breath made no sound, the clunking of her too big shoes thudded against the tall grass, but anyone in the forest would not know that from the still, tranquil quiet that followed the predator and prey.

The transition from when Angela remembered what it was like to be a human being and the moment her mind decided for her that she was nothing but a thing that needed to run or die was brief and the closer it got. The more she felt the biting, isolated cold of a vacuum in space against her back as it reached out to tear her apart atom from atom, the more her brain slipped away and the further she sprinted.

It was pitch dark, the sun had set, there was no room left for her or the trees’ or the thing that was rushing her’s shadows’ to morph on the ground, but the whole place was glowing, the wind had its own heartbeat, a part of her would day recognize.

It swirled around her, almost mockingly. Maybe one day it would remind her of the nights her older sisters would stay up with her, telling her scary stories about the dumbest things, and the terror which evolved into exasperation the older she got, instead of being a sensation to hold on to in the gap between her reality and her ever encroaching complete absence.

She ran, hearing the screech of some animal and darting after it, following any noise or thing of substance.

She ran around a bend in the trees and locked eyes with a huge bear with three huge rabbits in her jaws, and a dozen more resting in a bloody pile in the hollow of a tree, drool cascading down her mouth following sharp white teeth that Angela would guess hoped could cut the thing chasing her, even if it meant it would kill her next.

‘Much bigger than in the movies,’ she managed to think for a second as she barreled towards it.

If she was able to see or reason fully in that moment, who knows if she would have seen the bear’s eyes widen a bit in terror before it grabbed her by her shoulder and tossed her on it’s back in a smooth and quick maneuver that probably gave Angela whiplash, but she could not have felt it then, all she felt was dense and coarse fur that she buried herself into in an attempt to not fall off and be left to whatever was hopefully now leagues behind her.

Minutes or hours later, when she stopped relying solely on blind instinct and the fear and panic started to firmly set in, she realized they’d slowed down at about the exact same time she’d started to sob into the furry back of what she was slowly beginning to remember belonged to a bear.

But it walked, silently grunting and growling a bit as angela tried her hardest to calm down for long enough to get off of said bear and make some kind of escape plan and not enough to start thinking about how close she is to dying and how much she missed her parents.

‘At least they won’t have to hear about me dying via horrific bear attack.’ She thought.

It took Angela a good five minutes to notice that not only was the bear not protesting by any means, but that it was carrying a weird weaved bag that closed completely at the top.

It took one minute for her to decide to talk to it.

“Hello?”

She, of course, got no response in return. So she, of course, tried again.

“Listen, I don't know if you're…I don't really know what…do you know, do you know if there's a town nearby?”

Angela abruptly fell to the floor even though the bear slowly tilted its body to the side in an attempt to gently knock her off.

She attempted to process the feel of the ground underneath her while the thud of the bear’s paws rumbled through the air while she dropped the weaved bag on the ground next to a tree and the rabbit’s that it had apparently been carrying the whole time and trotted behind it.

The human fly thing was weird, but Angela was not prepared to hear the twitching and squelching sounds that came from behind that tree, and she definitely wasn’t prepared to see a chubby, brown arm reach out to pick up the bag.

A short black woman, who didn't look much older than twenty, with a chestnut brown Afro that framed her heart shaped face trotted around the corner with the same jolly gait the bear had, picking the rabbits up and shoving them in a separate basket that she'd seemingly pulled out from nowhere.

She was fat and beautiful and she did not look as though she could lift a one hundred and eighty pound five foot seven woman up off the ground and give her a piggyback ride.

“What, how, and who the hell is she?” She should work on that habit of saying things out loud.

“The town isn't far from here at all, I think you can take a guess, I don’t know, a witch could probably tell you, I guess? And I’m Maggie. Good to meet you! The circumstances could definitely be better, but it’s nice to see a new face.”

Angela stared at her, unblinking for an uncomfortably long time.

She’d been attacked, and she still shuddered at the thought of that thing, and saved by a bear who was actually a person. What could she even say?

“Your dress is so cute. Is that Versace?” She cringed the second she asked, but it’s the closest thing to a reaction she could manage.

“No, I don't really know who that is, but I made it myself.”

Angela nodded, wondering for a second if she run.

“Wicked. My mom always tried to teach me to sew, but I just never really got into it.”

The bear—Maggie nodded, “yeah, it’s hard starting out. Let me tell you, I didn't have the slightest interest in it until they invented the machines. I'm so glad we were able to reconstruct them, half my wardrobe wouldn't exist if we hadn't.”

She reached down and offered Angela a hand, holding back a laugh as she yelped a bit when she took her hand and hauled her up.

Angela brushed off her clothes without breaking eye contact with Maggie, hoping bears were one of the animals you were supposed to make eye contact with, “I feel you, if you want something done right you gotta do it yourself, you know?”

The bear woman smiled and nodded, “Ugh, don’t I know it? Oh, goodness, it’s like pitch black out here for you! Are you still headed to town?”

Angela nodded rapidly, “Yes! Yes, thank you, I'd really appreciate that. I'm a little, well, honestly, a lot, turned around right now.”

The woman sighed and gave her the most pitying glance and honestly, she appreciated it more than she should’ve. Being looked at at all felt like such a privilege, even if it’s by a possibly murderous bear woman.

“Yeah. I can only imagine. Can I give you a hug?”

Angela immediately shook her head. “Later. Please, but I can't right now.” If she hugged someone for the first time in years after everything that happened tonight she would cry forever. And she was starting to feel really dehydrated from all of the running and she’d only brought a small flask of water cause she hadn’t thought she’d have long to use it and she really didn’t want to cry in front of this stranger again, even if a hug sounded like it would fix all of her problems.

Maggie nodded, “Of course. Come on, honey. You look like you could use something to eat. And probably a long nap.” She said before leading her down the direction of an obviously frequently used path.

“Thanks. I'd be fine with just some directions even, I just really don't know where I'm heading.”

She tentatively picked up a rabbit with her thumb and pointer, trying to touch as little of the corpse as possible while still helping.

“It's fine, hon,” Maggie said, taking the rabbit from her and shoving it in her basket, “you've had a rough night.”

She trailed along after Maggie through the forest, making small talk for the first time in three years ever so often, letting there be a lull in the conversation long enough for her to be eternally grateful she was still good at it.

“If you don't mind me asking, how did you… get all the way out here?”

Obviously she meant “How did you not die horribly?” But Angela appreciated her at least trying not to paint the elephant in the room neon green.

“Well, I was inside a bunker."

"A what?"

"When everything happened, I was at work. I went down in the basement to look for some pens or paperwork, or something, I can’t even remember what, and then everything happened all at once and the door was closed behind me and—"

Angela squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on the sounds of the leaves crunching under her feet.

"Go on. If you want to, that is. If it's easier, maybe you can just tell me what a bunker is?"

She squeezed her eyes closed, shaking her head to try and erase the thought from her mind, laughing a bit at herself, "right, yes, that's what you were asking. It's just an underground building created to protect its inhabitants from nuclear warfare. I was living in one. For the past three years. Or nearly, it would have been three next week."

The woman whistled, "Damn. That's a long time without—"

"Yes, I know." Angela cut her off.

Whatever it is she was going to say, good food, a real shower, a hug from a family member, it wouldn't help to hear someone say it out loud to her.

She was quiet for a moment before stopping, making Angela halt too, now aware of the fact that she had been following a complete stranger through the middle of nowhere.

"What's your name, by the way?” Maggie asked.

She wore her most professional smile, the one she used for interviews where condolences weren't required, the one she used to greet potential clients, the one she used at a bar when she wanted a free drink, the same smile she hasn’t had to use in three years.

"Angela Weathers, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” She refrained from reaching into her pockets for the business cards that she had brought with her despite it all.

The woman smiled, "It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. It seems like you've had a rough go about things so far, Angela. I’m sorry to say you don’t have many options, but I can offer you some."

Angela nodded, immediate relief flooding her at the idea of being able to use actual logic to make an actual decision again.

"Alright, shoot."

"What?"

"I mean, tell me the options."

Maggie nodded, "alright, so, right now we're walking to the village, obviously, we're calling it Noman, but we're all still workshopping titles."

"But it's been three years." she said, looking at her confused.

Maggie rolled her eyes, "I know. Write the elders and ask them about it, supposedly they'll answer, but not sooner than twenty hours after it’s sent.

Or days, or weeks, or months. Or,” she looked at Angela briefly, “years.”

“Wait, the elders?”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “Yes, that’s what we’ve been calling them. They haven’t exactly been doing much to stop, well, what was chasing us just now.”

“Don’t bring whatever that thing is up again. Please.”

Maggie nodded. “There’s not many of them, if that helps.”

She smiled slightly, “it doesn’t much. But maybe soon it will.”

Maggie smiled back at the young woman, “I hope it does.”

Angela nodded, coughing and looking straight ahead, “Anyway, the options?”

“Yes! Right! OK, right now, we're walking towards the village. I run an inn, and nobody can come here and everyone has there own homes, so I do have a spare room. If you wish to stay there for a couple of nights, you're more than welcome."

“You would do that?” Angela stared at Maggie and got a look in response that could only mean that statement had broken her heart. Maggie’s face brought her back to every moment she’d taken one cookie from her grandma instead of three.

Maggie just nodded.

“I'll admit, I don't know what to say, or how to repay you at all.”

Maggie shrugged, “you don't have to say anything. And you definitely do not have to repay me.”

Maybe Angela stiffened when she heard her say it and didn't realize, maybe her smile faulted a bit, or maybe Maggie just smelled the fear of saying and doing nothing for longer than a few seconds on her breath.

“Well,” she drawled, “if you're really looking for something to do, you could help me make the stew for tonight. Can you cook?"

Angela remembered the first time she'd invited her parents and sister over for dinner at her first apartment, and how much money she'd lost on her security deposit after the burnt and overcooked pasta noodles started a fire and left a permanent stain on her ceiling.

She tried and failed to imagine the horror of someone having her handle the knives and body parts of some poor, innocent rabbits.

"In a manner of speaking."

Maggie squinted at her, "if that's not your prime skillset, you can always wait tables or help me and the kids clean rooms."

Angela nodded, trying to hide her shock at the idea that such a young woman/bear had kids.

‘Hey, who am I to judge, it's the eighties,’ she thought, thankfully not saying it out loud.

“Alright, what's option two?"

"The town isn't big, word gets around, you could ask around and see if you can apply for any positions, tomorrow though, maybe even next week, alright? I won't hear any word about you going off in the middle of the night to find work. If you're really stubborn, I'll show you the safer areas to rest in the woods until you're able to afford a house.”

Angela nodded, already knowing sleeping alone in the woods wasn’t an option anymore.

"So, option three?"

"I could give you some new food, maybe some fresh clothes if you have something to trade, and take you back to your bunker."

"Option four?"

"That's it, I'm afraid. Or it's all I can think of, at least."

Angela did not want to go back into that bunker.

She knew it probably would be her best bet, to stay there for a while, get some food, maybe dip into a little of option two and start looking for a job while she stays at home base.

But she really didn't want to.

She wanted to wake up stressed about work again.

She missed the sounds of people running around, and arguing, she needed the city.

Always had.

“Alright, let's try option one.”

[angelic-din-mortem]

I guess I should clarify something after talking to some people, but putting it on this blog for reasons.

So I know a few things I do on here are a bit...odd? Be it how I follow people, interact, send or in many cases don’t send stuff, or my rping style, or even why my muse is the way he is, or my activity habit. So let me just explain a bit and get it out of the way, not being forced to do this, just that sometimes people don’t get the right idea for why I do things.

Following people: I usually NEVER follow people first, on ANY of my blogs. Simply because I am not sure if my muse is wanted or not, or myself for that matter. Some people prefer being followed by certain muses or fandoms, so to not cross their comfort I usually don’t follow first. Sure I may follow back if they followed me, if I am comfortable or interested enough and its a character I can see myself rping with, yeah...

Interact: Simply put, I am a people pleasure, I want make everyone proud and happy and all that...but last few years on tumblr and FF14, etc, I was used and abused in so many ways then I care to admit, making me VERY paranoid and uneasy around others, doesn’t help I am naturally shy, and not one to care for a lot of attention, so sorry for not reaching out first usually... Usually interact more with friends and people I talk to in ways that I can be comfortable to reach out to them, ic or ooc, but I sadly can’t do this with everyone and every day... so sorry...

Sending stuff: Pretty much above reasons, fact that Idk if people would want a meme from me so I just don’t send one unless asked or told I can in person, I just don’t want to annoy or make people feel required to answer. And I get super nervous if its appropriate to send, so usually only do this if confident enough and or comfortable with the person.

Rping style: Thing is, I am rarely on, fact is I was gone a lot the last few years trying please people on FF14 to point that was all I did. Got so bad and blew up in my face so hard I was so scared to come back here, afraid they bring the drama here, and they did in a sense, but not as much. So I am rusty from being gone a lot do to drama and health reasons. Also I am dyslexic, both reading and speaking, my grammar sucks, due to these things and being so rusty with rping, I know my writing can be unreadable, making it hard for people want to continue, and usually write with people comfortable with my writing or asking me for understanding, luckily my best friend and rp partner can read my stuff very well so least I got that going.

My muse: He is actually pretty mellow and quiet and not so much of a sore thumb guy, but he wants to be because it’s important for him be out there for people at times. I am usually very secluded and quiet myself, Angelic helps me cope and be more happy and carefree and relaxed from writing him. He is a very complete character that pretends be very simple because people can handle simple and straightforwardness, though he may not seem so forward in speaking. Lol. He is a prized muse I wrote for over ten years in all kinds of fandoms, he used to be very popular in a lot of them, now, most people moved on, and as for myself and my breaks, well... He is just a muse I want be one day, a lot of things I have experienced and seen I put in him, quite proud of it, he’s far from perfect, but doesn’t stop him from trying be the best he can, I look up to him for that.

Activity: I have health issues...what more...I am still recovering from years of abuse... To be quick, I am a mentor in FF14, all my classes are 90 (ALL CLASSES), I have over ten accounts, I am used to helping one to six or more people in things. I rarely ate or slept, hell I missed a lot in the game due to being told to speed through or else... fun... Being the people pleasure I am, I tried everything, crafting and gathering and helping with story to savage content to helping with rooms and clothes and rping and you name it, probably did it. My like was consumed by FF14, more so by people I wanted to please and be proud of me...It was...bad...didn’t eat or sleep really... mind none stop focus on wanting help and be useful and wanted...it...was...BAD...so bad I had friend demand and plea to take breaks and rest and stop doing any FF14 for a week or more... Yeah... It blew up in my face, severely, three times specifically... Luckily majority left my life, still tries stir drama with me... but whatever... Hence why I was gone a lot here as well because some used to rp with me...I am a lot better, but I have a lot of health issues still (always will be), and just...yeah...recovering... so that’s why I am so sparse, some great days and some good days and weeks or even months I am gone, lol. That’s me. I don’t tend to promote my blogs now because honestly, I am tired... And I just...well...I want people naturally come to me because they are interested in me and my muses, be it Angelic or some other...may mention muses on other blogs and here but yeah...Idk... I used to be very popular on a lot fandoms and now I just want to rest after everything. LOL... Look at me being a old retired person mentality. Hahahaha! But yeah, just..hah... Yeah...

So yeah there you have a general idea of things. I won’t mention stuff like this usually if at all, as I try keep most things privet these days unless they are pertinent to the muse or something important enough, but yeah. Anyway back to rping.

[amaranthineoceans]

Everything Weird About Deltarune!

Spoiler Warning for Undertale and Both Chapters of Deltarune! Really! I Literally Go Through Everything I Can Remember About Them!

This is a long post so get comfortable. Also note that my brain doesn't process thoughts into words very well so some of these might not be worded in the best way. :)

Deltarune. The first teaser chapter was released on October 31, 2018, and it came out of nowhere. We've all gone through this, but I'll try and go through every single painstaking detail I can remember. Feel free to reblog and add/correct things.

The weirdness begins right off the bat. The title is an anagram of UNDERTALE. We all know Toby likes to use anagrams when he wants to indirectly tell us when things are related, so it's no surprise that when you go to download DELTARUNE, it warns you that the game is designed for people who have played UNDERTALE. You think, "Cool, so it's a sequel? Or maybe a prequel? A different perspective of UNDERTALE perhaps?" You were wrong; so terribly, terribly wrong! I'll elaborate on this later.

Before you download the application, the terms of service that you must agree to beforehand reads simply and plainly, "You accept everything that will happen from now on." This detail was kinda brushed off in the beginning, because, hey, it's Toby Fox. He does weird stuff all the time. But even in the first chapter, it's apparent that the concept of choice, or more accurately, the lack of it, is a very present theme in the game. I would like to remind you that Toby has announced that there will be one ending in the game. One. I'll elaborate on this later.

The program (as in, what the game is called in your files) is named SURVEY PROGRAM. Why not just call it Deltarune like it is when you download chapter two?

The game launches you, without a title screen, without any setting adjustment options, straight into a reference to the theme of the entire franchise: the lack of choice. A strange formless voice guides you through "making a vessel", with what we know now as a fountain in the background. You have the option to make some very disturbing choices in this character creator, such as making its favorite flavor "pain" or expressing your feelings about it with options such as "fear" and "disgust." You name your "creation," tell the formless voice your name (which is different from your vessel's name) and watch as said formless voice muses over your name at an agonizing pace. It thanks you for your time and tells you that your wonderful creation, (cue music cutout and background removal) will now be discarded. "No one can choose who they are in this world." The screen slowly turns white as the voice says, "Your... name... is..."

It gets weirder. The next scene appears from the whiteness and showcases Toriel calling "Kris" out of bed. Kris' area of the room is very bare in contrast to the other side, which we later discover is Asriel's.

It's Toriel. Why is Toriel here?

Kris is kind of an anagram of Frisk (the protagonist of UNDERTALE) but without the F. I highly doubt this is a coincidence.

Speaking with Noelle is the only reason you can proceed (see what i did there?) while finding a partner in the classroom. This means you can't go through the 1st chapter without knowing who she is. Is it because of the Snowgrave route?

Ralsei is just suspicious to me. There's no way he was just waiting in that castle his whole life alone without some mental toil. So either he's insane or he wasn't alone the whole time. What happened? Is it related to how he can close his eyes and see what Susie is going through when she's apart from the party? Was he just watching everything? Is he related to the formless voice?

Susie's icon is the only one without color in the Dark World.

Jevil's fight is more difficult than Sans'.

Your actions have little consequence in the first chapter. If you choose to go genocide, the only difference in the ending is being run out of the kingdom, and this doesn't carry over to the next chapter. Again, lack of choice, people.

If at the end of chapter one, you walk around town, it's mentioned (notably by Noelle) that you're usually not this talkative. If you go to the hospital and speak with the receptionist, they mention that you used to play the piano in the corner. If you decide to attempt to play the said piano, an out-of-key bash can be heard and the receptionist comments on how you used to play beautifully. If you try this in chapter two, the result is the same. All this is confirmation that Kris is acting noticeably weird.

When you leave the Dark World and walk around town, you can find Sans. He "pretends" to recognize you, and if you tell him you recognize him, he tells you it's funny, considering that you two have never met before. He winks. I'm pretty sure he knows that the player is there.

The mention of Papyrus in both games, but the purposeful lack of him. Like he's avoiding you.

If you go upstairs while inside Asgore's flower shop, there are flowers in glass cases resembling his SOUL collection in UNDERTALE. There's a red flower.

You can't enter the church.

The clock in the storage closet shows a different time than all the others in the school.

If you go all the way south in town and into the woods, the music stops and you come across a rusty, double door is in a hill covered in crass. It's locked. If you go this way in chapter two, however, you watch a cutscene where you and susie happen to find Monster Kid from UNDERTALE (or someone resembling them) and an owl kid in front of the door. The owl kid is pressuring Monster Kid to (presumably) break inside, telling them that they don't want to be a wimp like Kris. Does this imply that Kris is connected to this strange door somehow?

The ending. You know what I'm talking about.

Did Kris actually rip out the SOUL (I say "the" because I'm not entirely sure it's Kris') and knife because they wanted to eat the pie? Did they only eat the pie because Toriel caught them?

Why did they look at the player? Are they sick of being controlled? Is that why they freaked out after the Spamton fight? (later)

Anyway, now we're at chapter two.

DELTARUNE Chapter Two was released on September 17th, 2021. 17. Entry Number 17. Sound familiar?

Asriel's part of the room is different from the last chapter. I don't think this means anything sinister, but I think it means Kris notices different things about the room as the story progresses. My theory is that it will become more sinister in each chapter.

Ralsei getting super excited to see Susie and Kris after a day. As in he has separation anxiety and it breaks my heart. not anything suspicious but it makes me sad so it's on the list.

Kris and Susie's rooms. Ralsei REALLY doesn't want them to leave. Seriously get this boy a therapist. Or a stuffed animal. SOMETHING.

Kris having to gather everything from the storage closet so that people appear in the Dark World????? Why??????????????? They had to do the same thing for the computer lab too.

The golden door. I don't trust it.

How/why the heck did Noelle and Berdley go into the Computer Lab Dark World? I don't see either of them just walking into pulsing void doors without Susie.

Apparently the knight has been gone for a bit and can corrupt people's minds? The king in the first chapter doesn't seem like he can be redeemed but Queen just seems,,, not bad, but a little crazy. I wonder what happened.

Then again, name ONE person in this franchise without trauma.

Spamton.

Horror doesn't bother me. Spamton? Spamton bothers me.

SPAMTON. ENOUGH SAID.

A Kromer is a type of hat invented in the '70s. Nobody named Mike is associated with it, that I can find.

SPAMPTON. HOW DO I EVEN DESCRIBE IT.

HIS SONG IS THE ONLY ONE WITH WORDS.

The way he asks Kris is they want to be a heart on a chain their whole life. Like, dude, no wonder they were screaming after the fight.

WHERE DID THE YELLOW HEART COME FROM. YELLOW MEANS JUSTICE. WHY DOES JUSTICE APPLY.

Kris screaming after the fight and the player not being able to hear it. Don't you dare tell me that's just how the game is designed. There are sound effects characters make throughout the game. None that I can think of apply to Kris, apart from when they rip their soul out.

Ralsei brushing off the Spamton fight. Either that's his coping mechanism or he was trying to shut Susie and Kris up to protect them from... something. I'll touch on that in a minute.

According to Queen, DETERMINATION is a key factor in creating a fountain.

Also according to Queen, Kris, Noelle, and Susie all have DETERMINATION SOULS.

Ralsei freaking out about Berdley making a fountain implies that he may also have DETERMINATION. Why I'm bringing all this up will make sense soon.

How was Noelle able to cast Snowgrave... a spell that she, according to her, didn't know?

The Snowgrave route is so twisted.

You manipulate Noelle into killing Berdley and then, when you get back to the computer lab and investigate his corpse, the text box says that he doesn't seem to be awake. As if you're in denial?

Burgerpants recognizes you. Not Kris. As in the player.

The ending. I don't think I need to describe it. Kris is very methodical without the SOUL. (I say "the" because, again, I'm not 100% convinced it's theirs.) I'm saying this about how they left clues that someone broke into the This proves that they are NOT a mindless, vengeful husk.

HOW DID THEY MAKE THE FOUNTAIN WITHOUT THE SOUL INSIDE OF THEM. DID THEY FEED THE SOUL TO IT AFTERWARDS? IS THAT WHAT THAT WAS?

Another point I would like to make is my theory that Ralsei knows much more than he would have us believe. I might put this into a different post because I have yet to gather my points into a coherent bullet point list, so keep an eye out for that.

Anyway apart from Toriel and Susie being VERY heavy sleepers, I think I've gone through everything. I have a few theories.

1. Kris is possessed by the player and figured out that they could make a fountain from Queen and related to Spamton freaking out about freedom. They then decided to make a fountain going by the logic that "this would tick the player off." This is one of my top theories that assumes that the SOUL is theirs.

And 2. Kris is possessed by both the player and the knight. I think the formless voice at the very beginning of the game is the knight, and they somehow needed the player to possess someone with DETERMINATION. If so, then why Kris? We know from Queen that Noelle and Susie, and maybe even Berdley also have DETERMINATION. The most plausible thing I can think of is the fact that human souls are stronger than monster ones.

I do think that the popular theory (about the one that suggests that the Dark Word is nothing but a figment of a child's imagination, and the events that occur in said Dark World are simply children playing with toys) has been thoroughly dashed due to Berdley's murder in the genocide route of the second chapter. Unless he's not dead. Regardless, how the events (or lack thereof) that occur in the second chapter play through the next will be interesting, especially considering Toby's announcement about how there will be one ending to the game. So either Berdley isn't dead, or he will be.

Aaaand I think that's it! Sorry for the long post; let me know your thoughts and if I missed anything!

[trrickytickle]

Dough Woes

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

ofc you can get more, friend! it was m first fic and i was self concious asl and i believed i was like, super rusty at it, but since you swayed me, IMMA GIVE IT A GO AGAIN!!

me when answering my prompts

Summary: Avatar Week warrants food. Food, food and more food. Toph wants to seize every moment of Avatar association discounts, so naturally, when Katara sneaks a bite of an Avatar Day fried dough, she's determined to make Sugar Queen drop that treat that's about as saccharine as she is. (lee!Katara, ler!Toph) Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Pairing: Platonic Katara and Toph, rest of gang

"Give that back, prissy-pants!" Toph yelled, flailing her arms up at a (fried) Aang-shaped donut Katara was inches away from gobbling up. Soon, it would be like an Avatar in boiling oil. Dead and gone.

"I'd think you'd be having enough food after that, madame!" Katara scolded, pushing the shorter girl away.

"I'm no madame! I am Toph, the-"

"The what? The selfish food-hoarder?"

"Don't call me that, you.."

The frenzied footsteps of civillians parading the streets, dinging noises from cheesy ball-tossing games which granted unnatainable prizes she couldn't even see and Appa's loud bellowing snorts weren't enough to lull the thick tension in the air. The six-legged fuzzball had just dropped Team Avatar over at Chin Village to celebrate the newly extended Avatar Week for his efforts made in the hundred-year war and was resting under a pagoda with Team Avatar. Banners were hastily painted over, new, more favorable traditional food was created, and most importantly, discounts. Lots and lots of friend discounts. Before leaving to be all dolled up for a meticulous parade float, Aang hoarded small, plush Appas which their muse had slobbered all over and protected like its young, Surprisingly Sokka had already had his fix of fatty snackfoods and was busy imitating his flattered girlfriend with a pair of replica Kyoshi fans, and Zuko, who'd notmally be brooding under the shade, had put himself out there to surprise the civillian that'd eventually run into him and ask for an autograph, but this blind bandit was laser-focused on protecting the hoard of snacks like a snarling, sniffing shirshu.

Not even one measley little donut would change that.

"What would you rather I call you? A porcupig?" With a mocking snort, Katara held the snack up, pinching it and holding it directly over the girl's head just where she couldn't reach. Toph groaned, assessing the situation with the stomp of a foot.

The familliar vibrations of cheering crowds and carnies were merely background noise compared to the oily scent wafting directly over her head, taunting her like a fly-der over a pile of garbage. Well, she would've flicked her in the forehead, but after a quick assessment of the situation, there was one thing that was just too, too good to not use to her advantage. The opportunity was gleaming like the metal had learned to bend. Well of course, it wasn't really something she could see, but, the waterbender's position allowed for a few particular weak points to be exposed. To be more specific, Toph didn't want to hurt her- but she definitely wanted Katara to suffer.

"Who's the porcupig now?" The shorter girl's height allowed for her to gain a vantage point to simply tweak her in the sides, a move so simple yet utterly devastating and with a satisfying loud squeal followed by a barrage of snorts, Katara desperately lowered her hands to cover her torso, almost dropping the dusted delight onto the marble of the fancy pagoda. Toph swiftly snatched the dessert out of midair whilst moving her deft right hand onto Katara's stomach, tickling her like she was carelessly and improperly playing the konghou.

"EEE-Ahahaha-snrk-snrk-snrk-! Na-no tickling!" the waterbender flailed. "STOP!"

"Mm- ohthistastesGREAT -I don't think so!" In a usual disregarding manner, she planted both hands (obviously even the oily donut-grease hand) onto the waterbender's sides, striding, scribbling and squeezing with tact and brute strength. It was like her usual displays of brutal bending, only... less pummeling, more tickling.

Katara wasn't having it. She knew the snorts, squeals and flails were a source of schaudenfreude for the younger bender. Her face noticeably flushed a bit in embarrasment, knowing full well there wouldn't be much focus on them from the millions of villagers and united elemental nations attending the festival, but only her friends and/or technically-family. Somehow that was far worse.

"Word of advice, Toph? Try her pits. Or feet. Or, like... everywhere." Sokka slyly remarked, urging Suki to playfully scribble his sides for a brief moment.

"Not a bad idea. For once, that is." Toph quipped, equipping her fingers with blunt earth claws, making Katara break out in a sweat she could've easily bent to flick towards the blind girl.. but somehow she couldn't bring herself to. Without a moment to think, Toph's badgermole-like claw appendages dug into her tan armpits.

"AHAKAHAKAHA-haHAhA!! SNORT I'll get you for thiHAHAHAHAIS you-"

There was a loud noise that could only be described as fart-like. The raspberry Toph blew was slobbery, intense and unforgiving. Kinda just like her.

"Get her, girl!" Suki cheered, way too invested in ..this.. "Woah, Katara, you're ticklish."

"What, you wanna be next?" Toph resumed her barrage with deadly finger-claw strides down Katara's legs.

"Uh- waha- no!?" Suki stammered.

"Tohohoph! I'm sorry about the donut! Ahahaha, I- I just thouhouhought that you had enough fOOOOD-AY!" Katara squealed in a pitch she didn't even know she could reach, swatting Toph away from her lower sides.

"One can never have enough free Avatar Week fish balls! Now writhe under the command of MELON LORD!"

"I'm wrihihithing, I'm whrihihithing!" Katara attempted to wriggle away from Toph, who had abandoned the claws on one hand and alternated between the sharp sensations and pincing grasps with her bare right hand. It seemed barbaric, but they were somehow having fun with it. The entire time, the notion of pushing her away seemed like a foreign notion to the waterbender, who, like a spring tide switched the current and got an upper hand, holding up Toph’s arm and tickled in a much more.. civilized fashion, which was somehow worse than what said girl inflicted unto her. Maybe it’s a blind thing. 

“You can’t -hehehe- do this! I am Melon Lord-hehahaha!” Toph’s laugh- giggle, more like - was demure and screechy, which Katara liked to hear. Somehow it was funny. A little cute. 

“Oh yes, yes I can. All of this over a lump of dough.” Katara went down to Toph’s ribs, softly stroking a singular finger down her ribcage. 

“A lump of dohohough you’re dating!” 

 All of a sudden, Zuko had come back to the pagoda with a small yet rare smile on his face. 

“...What in the world?” He questioned. Such a moment was rare. Sure, Team Avatar liked to goof around, but these were Katara and Toph. 

“Well, no other way to explain but this.” Toph smirked, jumping onto Zuko and barely straddling him but sitting on his torso, digging straight into his armpits causing raspy, fiery yet surprised laughter.

They would all end up unfashionably late to the Avatar Day parade later.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 11

Silent scream

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets shut up

Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"Fuck you." I snapped, mustering all the saliva I could before spitting it at his face. He flinched back when it splattered over his cheek, his fingers swiping through the spittle before he was shaking it from them and standing back to his full height.

"It appears this one is never going to cooperate. If she won't give us information, why let our experimentations on her possibly...benefit the girl the the future?" The general spoke menacingly to the guards behind me. "How about way find a way to shut her up?"

My heat thudded so hard in my chest it was like someone was punching me from the inside, all air knocked from my lungs before I was being hoisted up to my feet again with two rough grips on my upper arms. My chest heaving, I coughed a ragged breath before composing myself. The glint of the silver blade in the corner of my vision sent my eyes bugging out of my skull and my mind into a flat panic.

So, I did what any rational person with my capabilities would do. I began to hum the deep melody - one a seldom sung - and a smirk crawled its way onto my now curved lips. Clearly, the general was prepared, but the two guards behind we weren't so lucky.

A desperate cry pierced my tune, harmonising with my voice as I heard the havoc I was causing. This was the first time I'd enjoyed a kill, the very first time I'd wanted to use my powers for such a horrific reason. I'd only ever used this part of my power a few times, but this was the only time I'd been fully lucid whilst doing so.

Some people want nothing more than to blow their enemies' brains out, and trust me when I tell you; It felt good.

However, luck was never on my side, and the General had come full prepared. He wasn't even affected, it must've been something to do with the funny earpiece he was wearing.

As my eyes met his, the General's face held non of the cocky, smug tones that I'd expect. No, the only word I could use to describe his old and crinkled features was pure ire, and it was directed at me.

"You conniving, vile little bitch!" He snarled, the flash of silver weeding a sense of utter and complete dread, tangled with fear inside of me, uprooting my confidence. I don't remember a lot after that, to tell you the truth. I know the blade sliced along my throat. I know everything was rained black. And that's about it.

...

Awakening with a gasp was the last thing I expected to happen. The sight of the blade risen in front of the general burned into my mind, almost as if it'd been scorned against my flesh. But here I was: awake, gasping for breath, completely surrounded by doctors I'd never seen before.

My hand instantly flew to my neck, a stinging sensation pulsing from the delicate skin. I hissed as my sweaty palm made contact with the bandage, the material corse and scratchy against my skin. As a doctor waddled over to me, needle in hand, I flailed desperately, a silent scream ripping from my throat.

Hang on a second-

Silent scream? I tried again, the shrill noise that should be tearing from me simply vanishing as it hit my throat. My eyes widened with the realisation, my bottom lip wobbling as I suddenly pieces together what had happened.

He said he'd have to shut me up, didn't he? The thought made me want to scream loudly, that the blade had touched my skin and left me with no defence.

They took away the hell they'd reigned upon me, something I'd wished I could be rid of for years, and now I was disappointed. Maybe this was their plan all along, that little voice in my head sang. The tears pricked at my eyes, which rolled back lazily as the scratch of the needle poked at my neck.

...

My calloused fingers ran over the cut tirelessly, trying to itch somewhere that I could never seem to find. I don't know how long I was sedated for, but since waking up the bleeding had stopped and there was now an offensive red line that slid horizontally across my neck.

Every time I touched it, it coaxed a wince from me, and yet that's all I seemed to do. It was like poking a bruise, I guess. The more it hurts the more you want to do it.

They'd returned me to my cell, clearly very little need for restraints against my weakened, starved and dehydrated body. I could see the flesh thinning on my arms, my ribs pressing painfully against my skin. Not only could I see the hunger, but I could feel it.

Manifesting, biting, gnawing hunger. The type that are you from inside out, devouring everything of you until the only thing you could think about was eating. Huh, I guess I was already at that stage then.

My eyes remained locked in place, glossy with the endless tears as I stared at the floor. If I really looked hard enough, the still wet blood smeared over the floors of the hallway resembled something close to strawberry jam. The thoughts of the sickly sweat substance spread over a perfectly toasted piece of bread, accompanied with a big glass of fresh orange juice and washed down by a large coffee made my mouth water. The booming rumble in my stomach made the groan, even more drawn out than expected when I remembered all I'd get to eat today: a small bread roll and a tiny glass of water.

Sadly, the sink in my cell did not contain drinking water. The liquid was so discoloured that I purposely avoided washing me hands, preferring to possible have my own germs coating my hands than whatever they were giving me. I'm not kicking you about, I genuinely think the water was filtered through a clump of fucking horse shit, mixed with fish guts and complimented with a hint of rotting fruit. If I could help it, I'd be dodging that water like the plague (if it didn't contain one already) for the rest of my life.

I'm not really sure why, but my head snapped up in surprise why the door sprang open, a single guard entering.

"The general requires your presence." He deadpanned, eyes cold as eyes and sharp as a knife as they stabbed through me. I wanted to fight back, stay glued to the spot and snap back some snarky remark, but in my current condition I almost couldn't bring myself to care where I was about to be taken, or why for that matter.

I stood without a word, silently following the man until we reached an unfamiliar metal door. I found it almost laughable, really, that they'd reduced my strength so much, that no one even considered putting me any sort of restraints anymore.

The door was pushed open with a child-like whine emitting from its rusty hinges, the metal scraping over the concrete floor painfully. The guard simply grabbed my arm before tugging me into the room, letting the door shut behind his with a hollow thunk.

"Ah, she has arrived!" The general's voice exclaimed, a deviant smile spreading over his thin lips. "And just in time to meet Mr Pierce, too." He said menacingly.

I felt embarrassed, exposed, stood before the room of men. My hair was a mess, tears streaking my reddened face, eyes puffy from crying and the only clothes a wore was a now-battered hospital gown. My eyes darted around nervously, trying to avoid the blonde man sat before me, chin resting in his palm as he surveyed me.

"Why is this one...important?" The man asked, eyeing me up and down before his eyes seemed to fixate on my neck. The scar.

"This," the general spoke, but Mr Pierce kept his eyes on me, "is Miss y/n Stark." Mr Pierce's eyes widened ever so slightly, but it was barely noticeable.

"As in Tony Stark?" Pierce pondered.

"The very same." The general smirked.

"She seems awfully...quiet, for a Stark." Pierce said with almost a hint of disgust, eyes still glued to my shaking frame.

"That's because we shut her up." The general snapped, awfully harshly.

"Is that the scar? How fresh is it?" Pierce jabbed his questions, curiosity clearly becoming him in the moment.

"Indeed. Our doctors here are very good, Sir. They had her all patched up and out of bandages in just three days." The general bragged, shoulders back and head held high as if he was posing for a portrait.

"I see." Pierce mused, brows furrowed in thought. "What do you plan to do with her? Now that she can't tell you anything?"

"Oh, trust me, sir. She wasn't giving anything up either way," he paused, striding over to me and yanking my head back with a fistful of hair, my back mow  pressed to his chest and his mouth at my ear, "isn't that right, sweetheart?"he clarified, and I didn't hesitate to nod my head as much as his grip would allow.

"So why isn't she dead?" Pierce gritted, seemingly annoyed. "It's not like Tony's attached to her, he never looked for her and I've never even heard him mention her."

"But then they'll keep coming. I don't want the avengers on my back, and I'm sure you don't either." Pierce hummed in agreement. "She's with them - her and that Captain America guy arrived together - so why not use her to send a message?" The general suggested.

...

That's how I found myself tied up, wrists bound and gun to my head as I sat shakily in a chair in the middle of the quinjet. I had no clue how long I'd been since that day, but I do know that I had been sedated once again. The flimsy hospital gown allowed a shiver to chill me, skin  forming goosebumps as I sat before the open door or the quinjet.

"You will tell them exactly as I just did. Got it?" The general pressed, pushing the gun into my head hard enough to make by head throb. Tears biting at my eyes, I nodded furiously, now determined to live with the promise of being free again. "Good. Soldat, make sure she gets back to New York without being seen, I'd hate to have to spill more blood than we intended." The general demanded, a figure rustling its way out of the shadows at the edge of the room. A gasp tore from my throat at the sight of him - clad in black leather and arm as silver as the moon. The soldier - my soldier.

But he simple stared through me, eyes blank and clouded in a coldness I'd never had directed at me from him before.

"And make sure you don't fail this time, soldat." The general snapped. The soldier nodded solemnly, the echoing of boots thudding filling both their ears as the general walked off the ship.

[milkytheholy1]

Hey there! I want to say, that your blog is super awesome! And also i have a request: 36 with ROTTMNT Raphael. I think it would be really interesting and with a little angst. I have to warn you: i will send you later another requests, if you don't mind oUo. 😊😊 Thank you in advance! :3 And wish you a luck! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

P.S. Sorry if there's some mistakes in text or words😅

36: "I can't take the loneliness anymore."

A/N: Howdy, so I just want to say that you didn't specify who you wanted to say the line so I wrote it with the reader in mind, I hope you're okay with that. Also, thank you for the love dude and I can't wait to see more requests. I'm a little rusty at writing Raph and Mikey so I always like a challenge. Enjoy!

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

You came to the lair, like you would most days, with high energy just like Mikey. When you first met the brothers it took a while for them to get used to it, having to already live with someone who already foamed at the mouth for pizza. But eventually, each brother grew fond of your bubbly presence. Whether that be joking with Leonardo, yapping about science to Donatello, cooking with Michelangelo or training with Raphael.

Even though your personality seemed to match the youngest turtle of the bunch, you found that you spent most of your time with the eldest of the four. Raph had secretly revelled at the fact that you choose to hang out with him compared to his brothers, his only other friend besides April being Buddy. He happily accepted the company, enjoying your presence while he trained against said foot-soldier.

After spending a few months with the red-banded turtle, you finally built up the courage to ask him to train you. Your reasoning had been to learn defence and that it looked super badass, but, the real reason was that your mind couldn't stop centring on the snapping turtle. Thinking that if you spent more time with him, up close, your mind would file these thoughts away and you'd be safe from blushing under his touch.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The first lesson was a little awkward, neither of you knew where the boundaries lied. After some embarrassing banter between you both, it quickly felt like a normal day. Raph was actually a pretty good teacher when it came down to it, he'd demonstrate the move he wanted you to learn then adjust your positioning whenever it was a little off. You two spent weeks doing this, too busy to hear the light chatter of his brothers crowding around the doorway observing your private lessons.

You'd never admit it to Raph, but you enjoyed the close proximity between your back and his chest. Sometimes you'd purposely mess up a move, sometimes multiple times, just so you could feel his arms securely around you. That was currently where you were now, one of his muscular arms was wrapped around your own pulling it closer to your face. His foot had pushed against your left foot, slipping it further from your right, strengthing your stance.

"Good." he beamed, stepping away from you to take in your stance. You felt your cheeks blossom at the way his eyes travelled over your body, but the cold air of the lair suddenly hit your back causing a shiver to shake your bones. Noticeably feeling his presence drift away from you, a frown etched its way onto your face. The lesson ended earlier than usual, Raph had told you that when you came to the lair, but somehow it had slipped your mind, especially when you stared into his eyes.

"Okay (Y/N), that was a good lesson today. You just need to work on your stances and you'll be golden, no doubt about it." he mused, rubbing his palm over your hair. Pushing away his contact, your mind arguing for you to grab his hand and pull it close to your heart, you smiled up at him "Yeah, well I've got the best teacher, right?" you asked, raising your hand into a fist and gently punching his shoulder.

Raph chuckled, his hand reaching to rub his neck as he blushed "Hehe, wish my brothers were more like you (Y/N)." You beamed up at him, your eyelashes fluttering up at him in your giddy state. Donnie's head popped into the dojo, his voice echoing around the room "Hey Raph we better head out now if we want to make it to the pizza place on time."

"Pizza place? I thought you were doing a stakeout?" You questioned, placing your hands on your hips. Your gaze narrowed onto Donnie, his eyes widened while he quickly rambled out an excuse "I-i-i mean we are doing a stakeout, b-but we're getting pizza for the...the, erm, stakeout?" You huffed out an annoyed breath, turning your attention back to Raph, you saw his hands motioning for Donnie to shut up. His gaze caught your own, his hands falling by his side urgently a nervous smile on his face.

"HAHAHA would you look at the time," he said, glancing at his bare wrist. "You're not wearing a watch Raph." you pointed out, Raph chuckled again putting his hands on your back and pushing you towards the exit of the lair. Grabbing your bag before he fully kicked you out, you struggled against his grip "C'mon why do I have to leave? Can't I come with you guys, it's not like you're doing anything dangerous." you mumbled, trying your hardest to make eye contact with him.

"Sorry (Y/N), but I can't risk it. Tonight's mission is important-"

"You're getting pizza!"

"Pizza is important, it allows us to concentrate." You huffed again, your lips forming a pout finally being able to face him. Your arms were folded over your chest, your sports bag hanging limply in your hands. Raising a brow at the shaking turtle you continued to intimidate him with your actions. "I can take you home if you want? You know, to make it up for cutting our lesson short." you nodded your head and started walking, refusing to talk to him.

It was petty, especially when moments ago you were craving his touch and attention. You wanted him to say something, anything. Instead, you walked in silence the only sounds being the small grunts you made as you climbed up the ladder to the surface. Raph was hot behind you, quietly closing the manhole cover as he stood next to you. Breathing in the heavy air pollution of New York, he coughed a little slightly choking on the fumes.

"I know we usually take a chilled walk back to yours, but I gotta get back on time so I hope you don't mind a shortcut?"

"Shortcut?" you voiced, looking up at him. Raph didn't say anything in response, rather, he wrapped his arms around you lifting you with ease. Your brain couldn't even begin to handle the closeness between your toasty cheeks and his plastron, your face blooming with different shades of reds and pinks. Jumping up to the roof, as though it was nothing, Raph began to sprint over each rooftop steadily making his way to your apartment.

You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, too scared to look around "You said shortcut!" you bellowed out. You could hear him chuckling above you, his chest reverberating with each laugh "This is a shortcut."

"A shortcut to what? Death?" you shrieked, your head slightly bounced against his chest meaning he was still laughing at you. Raph's grip tightened, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest "C'mon, won't ya even look at the view?" Shaking your head, which was still buried in his chest, you refused to humour him. Raph kept whining to you, he eventually gave up after he left a fleeting comment "It's as pretty as you."

It was almost a whisper, but you still heard it. Gaining a small form of confidence you slowly let your head rest against his strong shoulder, your eyes taking in the bright lights of New York. Sure you had seen a view similar to this, how could you not when your friends were mainly nocturnal. But, you'd never got to see it like this, feeling the wind blow past you while the cars moved slowly compared to Raph's hurried steps.

Feeling your body slumping forward, you noticed that you'd finally made it home. Raph still held your body close, your hands were grasping onto his arms in a tight grip, nails clawing at his rough scales. Unaware that you had even held his arm during his rooftop run, you plucked your fingers away coughing to cover up your embarrassment. Raph gave you a small smile, rubbing his arm when you weren't looking, his eyes delicately tracing over the half-moon crescents left in your wake.

"Well, I betta' be going, can't be late for patrol." he nervously fiddled with his fingers, his gaze never leaving the rusty metal of the fire escape. Your eyes flickered to his fallen face, your own unconsciously copying his "Right." you croaked out. You turned your back from him, your back once again burning with the cold air of New York; Raph's warmth had finally left you, your eyes tearing up at the thought of the loneliness that awaited you in your apartment.

Looking at your window, you saw your sad face reflecting in the glass. Raphael's form perched on top of your fire escape railing getting ready to jump off back to the lair, your mind raced with thoughts of what you'd do when you were on your own. Your palms began to sweat in fear of the darkness creeping in. Turning around with a certain air of swiftness, something you had learned in your lessons with the turtle, you hastily approached him. Grabbing at his ankle you heaved out a long, wavering breath.

Raph's head turned back to you, his eyes swelling when he saw the tears slipping down your soft cheeks "(Y/N) what's wrong?" His hands came around to your face, his large palms nearly smushing your cheeks together. Stepping away from the railing he pulled your fragile form into his chest, his head resting on top of your own as you cried out to him. Hiccups were concealed against his plastron, but he could feel the way your breathing stuttered.

"P-pl-please do-don't l-lea-ve m-me" you spluttered out, Raph's heart broke at the sound of your whimpers, he couldn't stand to see you like this. "(Y/N)," Raph pulled away slightly, only to glance at your face, but your arms tugged him back to you with what little strength you had "I can't take the loneliness anymore." you sobbed. Raph's fingers gently ran threw your hair, smoothing out any strands that refused to be tame "Oh (Y/N), what happened?" he whispered.

"E-every ti-me I hang out with y-you guys I have a b-blast, but then you say you have t-to g-go on a miss-ion or p-patrol and that means I have to l-leave and I can't k-keep doing that! I don't want t-to come back to my apartment! It's too quiet, it's too empty, it's too..lonely. I don't want t-to be lonely anymore Raphael, please take it away!" you cried. His arm came around your waist, hugging you tighter "I will never leave you (Y/N)" he murmured into your ear, his warm breath tingling your skin.

-EXTENDED ENDING-

~A Quick phone call later~

"Why's (Y/N) here? I thought we were on an important mission?"

"Because (Y/N)'s apart of this team...and I like having them around."

"But-"

"We can't leave a member of the team behind Leo!"

"MIKEY!"

[mpfuro-station]

"Would flowers help?" Aurora mused to themselves, lazing around on a tree branch, hidden away from everyone by the thick foliage. "I could...grow lots to be sold? But who would want flowers in the Savannah?"

"I'd want flowers!" A small child answered as they hung upside down in front of Aurora. The child with a mass of curls in a rusty red color and a mole under her right eye. She had light skin like the sandy grasslands and large human ears. She hung by a prehensile tail from a branch above Aurora. "Do you have any right now?"

"Wha-?! How, when?" Aurora jumped a bit, catching themselves so they didn’t fall out the tree. The kid nimbly came to sat on the same branch as Aurora, almost in their lap, and stared at them with wide brown eyes. Aurora tilted their head, “You’re one of Furo’s cousins, aren’t you?”

“Well technically, my mom is her cousin. Her mom is my Great-Aunt Melli!” The kid started with their family tree. “But that can get really confusing, so we just say aunt, uncle, or cousin! She’s Cousin Mumu, and I’m Zani! But everyone in the family calls me Zizi!”

“Well, hi Zizi. I’m Aurora,” the fae introduced.

“So, do you have flowers or not?”

“Uh, not right now. I’d have to grow them first.”

“With magic?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you a mage?”

“Studying to be one.”

“How old are you?”

“Older than you, I can tell you that.”

“You’re a fairy, right?”

“What gave it away?”

“My big brother is half fairy,” she shared after her rapid-fire questions. “His dad is a fire fairy.”

“Is he now?” Aurora tried to recall seeing another half-fae beside Rozalie when they met Furo’s family, but couldn’t remember meeting him.

“My little brother and I are half monkey beastfolk. My big brother name is Brazza and my little brother is Tanga. Brazza is helping Vormel with the music at the fair.” Zani rambled on. “He’s not shy, but it takes a lot to get him to talk to people.”

“A lot of fae are like that. Must be genetic, hehe,” Aurora joked.

“Did you grow a flower yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Dang it,” Zani pouted.

“What are you doing to help with the fair?” Aurora fished for some more ideas.

“Hmph, I have to sit with my mom and sell beads while she does people’s hair,” Zani huffed. “It’s super boring, that’s why I’m skipping, like you!”

“I’m not skipping, I just wasn’t given a task yet,” Aurora retorted.

“Sure, sure,” Zani didn’t try to hide her skepticism. “Why don’t you take my place and help my mom! I’m sure she’ll like having fresh flowers to braid in people’s hair!”

“Don’t try and push your work on me!”

“I’m not doing that!” Zani denied. “Think of it like this! My mom can teach you how to do braid hair while you work! If you know how, then you can help Mumu do their hair when you back to the fancy magic school you go to!”

“Hmmm, I guess,” Aurora pondered. “But why do you call them Mumu?”

“Same reason you call them Furo,” Zani said. “Her name’s too hard to say. Although, I’m going to be nine soon, so I can say their full name!”

“Say it then,” Aurora challenged. Zani looked confused. “Say Furo’s first name. Since you’re almost nine, it should be a piece of cake right?.”

“Of course! My cousin’s name is super easy! It’s...i-it’s Mu...Musee...” Zani’s tail flicked as she struggled. “Muthille!”

��Hahaha!” Aurora broke out laughing.

Zani lightly pounded on Aurora’s leg, “Shut up! You say it then!”

Aurora shook their head, “Oh no, I’ll mess up even worse! Don’t want to do that! Hahaha!”

“There you two are!” Furo called up into the tree. Both looked down to see them with arms crossed. “Zizi, your mom is looking for you! And Aurora, I’ve been looking for you! I thought a cheetah might have gotten you!”

“Nah, the cheetah stayed back at school, remember?” Aurora joked. Furo bit back a chuckle as they continued to stare down their targets. Aurora sighed and conceded, “Okay, we’re coming.” They grabbed Zani like she was a sack and jumped down from the tree.

“I could’ve climbed down faster without you,” Zani grumbled.

“Zi, you better get back to Poechi before she feeds you to a lion,” Furo threatened.

“Yeah, Zi, better get back to your mom,” Aurora smirked.

“Hmmm!” Zani puffed up her cheeks. She turned to look Furo in the eyes with an unamused glare. “You’re wrong! They aren’t cool at all!”

“What-” before Furo could ask anything, Zani ran off toward the fair again. 

“So...you think I’m cool?” Aurora’s teasing voice broke the silence.

“I- you see...We aren’t talking about that right now,” Furo deflected. “I was told to find you a place to help out.”

“Oh, I found one, thank you,” Aurora smiled.

“Really? Which stall? Or is it an activity?”

“I’m gonna help Zani’s mom braid hair. She invited me a few moments ago, and it was fun chatting,” Aurora said, keeping the smile. “Her mom was Poechi, did you say?”

“Y-yes”

“Great! We should head back to the fairgrounds then! Can you show me where her stand is?”

Furo scrunched up their nose, but agreed, “Sure, let’s get going. I wasn’t kidding about the cheetahs.”

[ofmichikos]

( ˙꒳​˙ ) ♡ yay magicka! i'm delta ( s/h ) and i'm bringing ito michiko to the party. she's your typical people-pleaser to a fault. she's trying to change that, but you know what they say about old habits: they die hard. especially when you're a WITCH. 😳

background info.

born in tokyo to two human parents. her maternal aunt / mom’s sister was a witch. her name is yuuko and so much of michiko’s views are based on her experiences but also what her aunt told her.

she’s a libra disaster, btw. super extroverted, almost to a fault and will typically assume a closeness that she doesn’t have with someone. her parents were very affectionate and cheered her on in everything she did growing up ( also very much Only Child ) so she’s got a heightened sense of self confidence but it also allows her to be very, erm, cringeworthy at times.

speaks without thinking nine times out of ten.

she can be pretty persuasive at times and, no, that’s not the magic.

found out about her being a witch on the day before her 16th birthday, when her aunt was trying to give her a necklace as a charm but was having trouble with doing so. without thinking twice about it, michiko helped her .... before proceeding to have about five thousand questions.

being that both of her parents were human, they couldn’t help her in the way that her aunt could, so she moved to live with aunt yuuko around the time of her eighteenth birthday. being that she was so close to her parents, this has crushed her.

michiko is very impulsive, but it was a trait that her aunt wasn’t well-equipped to help change for the better. if michiko’s a lit match, then yuuko would be a ticking timebomb.

despite not always knowing the best way to say something or how to say it, michiko always wanted to help people. consider it her people pleaser tendencies, but she went into social work as a way to help people in any way that she can. 

when her words don’t help, though, it’s so hard to not immediately resort to using magic and handing out helpful charms left, right and center.

her work brought her from tokyo to jeju island, after a freak accident had her old boss sent to the hospital. being that she was working in an office filled with humans ( her mom was the one who’d recommended her ) the witch elders in tokyo came to the consensus that it’d be best for her to head to jeju island, just so that she could

life in jeju.

her korean is a little rusty, but she’s getting there. expect some confusion and a little mistake here or there. she’s good with rolling with the punches. if  your muse ever wonders did she just say that? she probably did, but she didn’t mean it. she’s very much of the belief that, if she doesn’t make a big deal of it, then it’s not a big deal.

her first few months on the island, she was sort of a recluse. she would just go to work and come home. in that time, she was working on her understanding of magic ( having lived all those years with her aunt, 10+ meant that the elder woman would always be doing most of the magic. michiko is working on getting better. )

now that she’s been here for a little over a year, she’s getting to the point where she wants to go out! she’s the type of person who needs people in her life. she’ll talk to the walls when no one is listening.

the concept of bonding is very intriguing to her. you might say that she goes out and makes all these friends in an attempt to feel like she’s getting closer to finding her bondmate, but as of late, she’s never felt further away from it. :-(

basically: she’s just a loud libra trying her best. if you ever need a charm, she’s your girl but it might turn your hair blue in the process? so do what you will with that.

wanted connection ideas.

A COVEN. please i would lose my mind. i’ve had this idea that there’s a coven groupchat, and she’s the one who texts everyone at 2 in the morning asking if anyone has a super specific mineral because none of the stores are open.

familiar buddies!<3

enemies. call it cliche, but i would love for someone to just not be dealing with any of her trash. maybe she rubbed them the wrong way or said the wrong thing and now they just do not like one another.

A NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR. i beg!

i’ll be adding more to these soon, promise bffs.

[golden-barnes]

Divinità

Prologue: Salvezza

Bucky Barnes X F! Reader

Description of the series: Au! Divinità. A deity. A goddess. One that Bucky has only seen 3 times before and now he can’t get Y/N out of his head. So he decided to put an idealized version of Y/N in his books. But what will happen when he gets to meet the real Y/N? Will you still be his deity?

Summary: (Salvation) The three times Bucky has seen Y/N and how his life changed because of that.

Warning: Curse words, grumpy Bucky, ptsd attacks and war mentions

Word count:1.5k words (I think that’s a lot for a prologue but I got carried away) 

A/N: I (loosely) based this off the Dante Alighieri and Beatrice Portinari story but with a modern twist. This is my first series in years, so I am a little rusty but I am very excited about it.

Past:

The first time he saw her: 

James Buchanan Barnes hated the center. And he made it goddamn clear that it was the worst and that he rather be anywhere else than there. After coming home from his last tour, with one less hand, Sam and Steve decided it would be for the best that he went to the Military Rehabilitation Center. He understood why they wanted him to get help and it wasn’t like they forced him, he truly wanted to get better. He was grateful that they cared about him so much to help him. And the center helped him a lot. He was getting fewer nightmares. The nurses were nice. He likes his physical therapist, even though he thinks that she underestimates him. But he is making some progress, more than anyone in the center. The food is decent, a lot better than what he ate when he was stationed. He liked going to the small library that they had in the center. There was a little park next to the center that he likes to go for a run in the mornings. He was finally starting to feel normal, or rather as normal as he could possibly get. 

His psychologist, on the other hand, is a nuisance. It wasn’t that he is a bad guy, it’s just that Bucky hates talking about himself and he swears the psychologist is out to get him.Sam thinks that he is just being dramatic but he still claims that he hates him. He recommended (even though Bucky says that he ordered him) to keep a journal. To fuck with him, Bucky decided to write some random things. They were borderline poems but Bucky would never admit that. In one of his journal entries, he wrote  about some french fries he ate in Belgium. One time he just rambled about a blue bird. Doc wasn’t pleased with that one in particular.

“You have to write about your feelings, Mr Barnes. That is what the journal is for.” He reprimanded  him in one of his sessions. But Bucky wasn’t going to go down without a fight. That is until today.

His session with the irritating physiologist started normal. The whole "How do you feel Barnes?" and "did you have any nightmares last night or any anxiety attacks?"  Which the answer was yes. He didn't particularly wake up on the right side of the bed. Meaning that this session was getting on his nerves more than usual.

Then there was a knock on a door before he could answer the doctor's questions.

"Excuse me, doctor. The director told me to come get you. Apparently there's a situation in the lunchroom." From the door emerged the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on. Her presence just filled the room, in a way he has never seen. It was as if she was radiating calmness. For a few minutes, all of his worries and his fears just vanished. His mind was only focused on her. On the way her eyes were warm and made him feel comfort. On the smile she was giving him. Oh that smile. He knew that he was now addicted to it and would do anything to see it again.

“Behold, a deity stronger than I; who coming, shall rule over me.”

 Was the first thing that came into his mind when she left the room with the psychologist. That night when he wrote in his journal, he wrote about her. 

A month later;

The second time he saw her

Veteran’s day in the center wasn’t as fun as a lot of people think it is. It would be crowded with family members. Kids would bring their toys to show them to their grandparents. There would be a cookout outside for all the vets and their families. Even fucking games, there were little challenges and shit for the families to have fun with. The ruckus was too much for Bucky. Bucky always made it a point not to celebrate this holiday.

 “First of all, it’s dumb. If you wanted to do something for the veterans, maybe you should give the centers more money to operate. And, I don’t know, make more fucking centers. Second of fucking all, why make so much noise? Seriously, can’t we have ONE silent holiday?” He once told Sam and Steve. To which Sam replied with a “stop being such a grumpy motherfucker”.

This year, he decided to hide in the library instead of his room. He wanted to finish this new book Steve brought him in peace and quiet. And since the library was on the other side of the rehabilitation center, he knew it was gonna be his little safe haven. What he didn’t expect was to see her there.

He stopped at the entrance, astonished and amazed. With a flowy flower dress and peonies in her hand. She was looking at the books that they had. Running her fingers over the spines of the books. Why would she have flowers? Why was she here? Was she staying?

She turned around to see him and gave him the same addicting smile that she gave him the other day.

“I thought I was going to be the only one here. I was just looking at the books. Don’t worry I’m going to leave.” Bucky swears her voice is like honey to his ears. His senses were overpowered by the smell of her perfume. Was that vainilla? Or was it cinnamon? He couldn't guess. He was stuck there. He couldn’t talk or move. She gave him another warm smile, one that made her eyes crinkle a bit. Bucky would bet anything to have her permanently smile like that.

“Oh before I leave, here’s a flower. Happy veteran’s day. Thank you for everything” She gave him one of her peonies. Their fingers slightly touched and Bucky felt a small shock. He probably looked super dumb to her. With widened eyes and his mouth slightly opened, he probably looked like an idiot. Damn it Bucky, she might think that you are a creep. 

She smiled again and pointed at the door. Fuck, I haven’t moved from the entrance. She can’t pass. Way to go Barnes! 

“Thank you soldier.”She winked at him. But little did she know that he wouldn’t stop thinking of her wink. 

Another one for the journal, I guess. He thought letting his mind run wild with the image of her.

Two months later; 

The third time he saw her

James Buchanan Barnes was consumed by two thoughts. Number one, he had finished all his physical therapy and his nightmares and panic attacks were less, but he was much better at dealing with it. So that means that it was his last week at the center. He was so happy. He has already said goodbye to all the nurses, his doctors and he even said a nice goodbye to his insufferable psychologist, who he in the end grew to like. He was packing all his things and was waiting in the reception area for Steve to pick him up.

His second thought was her. He hadn’t seen her since that Veteran’s day where he acted like an idiot in front of her. Fucking damn it. But he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Almost every night since then, he kept writing about her. It was like his brain was trapped in a box, captured until he wrote out everything he could about her. He never even formed a formal conversation with her, but he still couldn’t help but think about her. About how her presence soothes him. How her smile filled him with joy. How the flower she gave him was the most important thing he has ever received. Hell, he learned how to press flowers and made it into his bookmark. 

“These last entries were really good Mister Barnes. It is like something I would see in a poetry book.” His psychologist once noted. And he couldn't help to agree with him. She had become his muse. And I don’t even know her name.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. As if Bucky called her with his mind, she appeared. With the same heart melting smile and the brightest aura. The receptionist even smiled when she saw her. She walked in, and the room got lighter. Can a human glow? Because Bucky thinks that she is glowing, as if small specks of glitter were emanating from her body and reflecting back at him. Did it make sense? Not one bit, but Bucky couldn’t describe it any other way. 

“Good morning Y/N. I was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up again.”  Y/N let out a soft chuckle at the receptionist’s words. She reached to sign in the sign in list. 

“Buck! Hey buddy, ready to go?” Steve had walked in and Bucky hadn’t even noticed

“Ye-yeah. Let’s go” Grabbing his bags, he started to walk out the center. But not without giving Y/N one last look.

If salvation had another name, Bucky would bet his life that it was Y/N.

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him.

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two

chapter 2 - horned god in the woods

SFW, Heisenberg being Heisenberg, 1.3K words.

The beauty of Castle Dimitrescu did wonders to mask the brutality that took place inside its walls, Heisenberg mused as he crossed the main hall. Gold wherever one looked, comfortable cushions made of velvet to make any old butt feel like royalty. The curtains probably cost more than all the furniture he had in his own chambers combined, he’d wager, the shiny brocade imported from some far away country, crafted by hand by the finest whatever they were called, et cetera, et cetera. Alcina would always pick something to brag about, the rugs to the drapes to the china to the wine, and always when he was within earshot. She would invariably compare her riches and elegance to the riffraff of a sibling she had - not that she would name any names. He had always wondered why she bothered, considering that none of the foreigners, dignitaries or peasants that heard her tales ever lived long enough to appreciate them. Regardless, he always made sure to trek through the mud when he came to visit, use her curtains as an ashtray, throw a doily in the fireplace. It had become a bit of a game, to see how long it would take before she finally noticed he had left his mark, and the worse she treated him, the worse he’d ruin her precious property.

Twenty three years and counting was the longest he had gone unnoticed, a fight bad enough erupting over her insulting his long dead parents that she had threatened to slice him to ribbons when he fired back. He remembers the headache the morning after, the soreness in his throat from yelling so much. Remembers the tears, too, though he had bitterly swallowed them as she opened the floodgate of shit she called her mouth. When the metal claws came out, he had ripped them right out of their sockets, her knuckles bleeding as she looked to Miranda for something, anything. Mother intervened when he pointed all of the blades to his sister’s neck.

He had gone down to her basement that night, while the others tended to her injuries, or at least pretended to. Super-sized bitch always did regenerate faster than all of them. He had stomped out in the front door’s direction, only to take a turn through the courtyard and into the dining room. Sneaked past the kitchen maids, into the tasting room and down to the vats. The place was dark and damp, and like most everywhere else, it reeked of blood and death. Heisenberg soon found what he was looking for: the barrel of fresh wine she had boasted about earlier that evening, ready to be bottled, aged, and then sold for a premium. It had been twenty three years since he had unzipped his pants and pissed inside that barrel, a confused moroaicǎ that was too slow to catch him as his only witness. Not that she would tell on him. He thought about that barrel sometimes, and every day that passed since the whole situation it sounded funnier. He almost wanted to tell her sometimes, ask her to rename the vintage - A Taste of Heisenberg.

The frequency of their “family gatherings” diminished after that, and Miranda had asked him, kindly, that he never harm any of his siblings again. “Or else” implied. An idle threat, naturally; Miranda had influence, but no power over their choices. As it stood then, he had nothing to oppose her, his powers still growing, uses still being explored. As for now, she had played with their heads to get their full devotion - even if he could kill her, he would still have his siblings to deal with.

He’d taken to spending ever more time in his factory then, his public appearances kept to a minimum. Sometimes she would request that he visit the village to grace them with his divine presence, to bless some newborn named after him. None would go past the gate or the altar, and most did not even know a way to open the way to his home. Even Miranda had no domain over his mountain, and he had gone through great pains to make sure it became an impenetrable fortress. For that reason they rarely visited him, and such occurrences dwindled even more in the years that followed; no one had dared to set foot inside his factory after the incident. All the better for him.

“My lord, I would speak to you, if you allow me to do so?” He was brought out of his thoughts by the pathetic voice of the servant he had seen earlier, all rags and bruises and a mess of hair, kindness in her eyes. She looked starved and sleep deprived, empty silver tray shaking in her hands even though she held onto it for dear life.

She had stopped him in the hallway before he could step outside, her cheeks flushed, a bead of sweat resting on her brow. It seemed to him like she had run all the way to catch up, a sense of urgency in her words as she spoke. She had no reaction when he lowered his glasses to get a good look at her, flashed her his best smile.

“I thought it best to warn you, Lord Heisenberg. About the beast that lurks in the woods.” There was… Concern? In her expression. Like she feared he, too, would disappear like the others, or be drained of blood and left to rot in the snow. Had she any idea who she was speaking to? Was he not revered as a God, offerings made in his honor, heads bowed as he passed? “The Horned God stalks the forest. A great beast with a voice of thunder.” Her voice was quiet and solemn, tray falling to the side as she freed her other hand to cup over her mouth. “Some say it can shift from beast to man, take the form of a beautiful maiden of raven hair. Most dare not speak of it, but others…” She trailed off and looked around, worried that their little exchange would be heard by another maid, or worse still, by one of the ladies of the castle. “It has been known to trick those who stray from the Black God. It offers to heal their families and hurt their enemies, to perform rituals bathed in blood. What it asks for in return I do not know for certain; I would never dare to speak to a heretic who would contact such a monster.”

He had found it all too amusing, but something about her terrified expression, the way she had held her hands together in prayer as she finished saying her piece, had all but crushed his urge to burst out laughing.

“Good, my hunting skills have been a little rusty.” He offered in response, adjusting the hammer over his shoulder. “What better way to practice than to kill a god, huh?” She shushed him as his voice roared, apologizing immediately after, whispering a plea to not tell the lady anything about any of it. “Your secret is safe with me,” Heisenberg put his hand over his heart, the missing touch of melodrama that permeated all of his performances. “Thanks, darling.” He held her chin up to look at him as he spoke, and there it was, that blush again. Ah, he did so love… Entertaining maidens. “Any idea where I can find this thing?”

“Past the West Old Town and into the forest deep, my lord.” She announced in that same somber tone, as if this was the last time she’d ever see him. All things considered, it might be.

“Take care, sweet pea.” He waved as he walked away, pushing the doors to the castle open to be greeted by the comfort and vastness of the field of snow.

Heisenberg searched through his pockets as he made his way across the village, humming a tune and watching as every window and door shut with a bang at the mere sign of the sunset. In the distance, the familiar sound of lycans making their way to town to prey on unsuspecting victims, howls he had become far too accustomed to.

A screw, some knives, some change, but not much else. He wondered if the “Horned God” would accept some whiskey.

[delusionland]

ABOUT. hello! my name is lucky! i’m a 25 y/o he/him butch lesbian! this is a multimuse blog for DISNEY & SUPERHERO muses, that aims to analyze & progress the western canon of american mythos with a leftist, lgbt+, and mentally ill spin.

my main focus on this blog is to examine and confront abusive dynamics, corrupt power structures and inherently problematic story structures that are fed to children from birth, and how the characters we love and love to hate cope with extreme trauma and their own distorted thinking & worlds, in order to grow as people into their found families and roles as mentors, celebrities, rulers or simply adults----or devolve into further negative or sideways character development to suit a character/societally critical narrative that highlights their flaws & the flaws in their writing for the benefit of thematic exploration.

but my secondary purpose on this blog is just to have fun, make friends, and be the most supportive person / hypeman i can be for my mutuals. i love to read hcs, i love to see liveblogging, i love to just see everyone on the dash! feel free to im me at any time (or ask for my discord if we’re mutuals), to shoot the shit, just talk about characters, and please never feel like i’m ghosting you bc i ALWAYS want to hear more about ur ideas, ur life, and ur passions, even if i am currently not up to plotting.

rules. muse list (w/ prose). carrd (rules & muse list with bios u/c). sideblog (other non-superhero / non-disney muses).

NOTE: this blog is currently on re-vamp semi-hiatus. what does that mean? it means until i get every bio up for my muses, i will be extra slow. i will mostly be on the dash to support my mutuals and see what excellent hcs and writing they’re doing, and occasionally post hcs. i am available for plotting---but right now, my brain is kinda mush and i’m trying to overcome brain fog and anxiety and put my charactes out there more, but in order to do that i want to make sure i’m 100% confident in my muses by writing all of their bios. once my bios are done, i will take this paragraph off my pinned and delve back into the chaos. until then, pls bear with me!

UNDER THE CUT IS A LIST OF MY MUSES WITH A KEY FOR EASY ACCESS. my muse list has also been updated for the final time as of 5/26/2021 on my muse page, here, and on my carrd. thank you for checking out my blog and have a wonderful day!

bold = i have special interest in this muse right now.

italics = i am kind of rusty on this muse right now, but still interested in rping with them.

asterisk / * = i have special interest in plotting with this muse.

red heart /  💖  = i have special interest in SHIPPING with this muse.

blue heart / 💙  = i have special interest in platonic / familial / mentorship relationships with this muse.

sparkles / ✨   = i have special hcs and a wishlist in mind that will help us write together, easier!

MARVEL MUSES.

AVENGERS / GUARDIANS: thor * 💖💙✨, peter b. parker * 💙✨, steve rogers💖✨, sam wilson * 💖💙✨ , bucky barnes 💖💙✨ . wanda  *💖💙✨, gamora  *💖💙✨, peter quill 💖💙✨.

EX-TEEN HEROES: nico * 💙, chase * 💖💙, hazmat * 💖💙✨, mettle * 💖💙✨, finesse *  💖💙✨, david  💖💙✨, billy 💖💙✨, teddy *  💖💙 .

X-MEN: wolverine *  💖💙✨, rogue *  💖💙✨,  gambit *  💖💙✨.

DC MUSES.

SUPER ADULTIER-ADULTS:  clark *  💖💙✨, bruce wayne *  💖💙✨, alfred pennyworth * 💙✨,   poison ivy *  💖💙✨, lois lane 💖💙✨ *.

EX-SIDEKICKS TURNED 20+-SOMETHINGS: conner *  💖💙✨ , cass *  💖💙✨ ,  jason *  💖💙✨ , kaldur 💖💙✨ , tim  💖💙✨ .

DISNEY MUSES ( & ASSORTED OTHER ANIMATION. ).

ursula * 💖💙✨, beast * 💖💙✨, cruella * 💖💙✨,  eugene * 💖💙✨,  rapunzel * 💖💙✨,  gothel * 💖💙✨, elsa * 💖💙✨, hans * 💖💙✨,  kristoff  💖💙✨ , anna  💖💙✨, raya *  💖💙✨,  jack frost 💖💙, eda 💖💙.

TUA MUSES.

diego  💖💙, vanya ,  ben * 💖💙✨, luther* 💖💙✨.

THE BOYS MUSES.

butcher  💖💙, starlight 💖💙✨, queen maeve* 💖💙✨.

[lambourngb]

This Hard Choice

Fic prompt: “I don’t want you to go.” set before THIS HARD LIFE and THIS HARD JOURNEY - an AU after the shed, set sometime after the moment in 2x05. Alex doesn’t join the Air Force. I’m writing these each day- so thankfully I didn’t have to work today because this “ficlet” is 3,600 words. This is finished on Ao3 here.

****

The careful crunch of loose gravel and abrasive echo of a skateboard stopping on the rough pavement let Michael know that his attempt to avoid Alex had failed. 

Parking down by Spring River, not far from where the concrete shelter of the Atkinson Ave overpass sported some of the late Rosa Ortecho’s graffiti murals, would have been an excellent place to hide from everyone in his life but Alex. It was insane to think that in such a short time, Michael had basically shared all of his favorite spots with him, from the private desert escape on a cut back gravel road not far from the crash site to the places in town when Michael couldn’t spare the fuel to drive far, like Loveless Park or the back acres of wrecked and salvaged cars at Sander’s Auto.

He would care more about his failure in evading Alex if he wasn’t so currently high.

Old man Sanders had let him crash on the couch last night with Rusty, his dog, and then left him the next morning with scrambled eggs and a small paying job of cleaning out the machinery tools used for alignment repairs. “Gotta use that MEK shit on it, it smells awful, so it’s a perfect job for you, kid, only need the one hand to clean the threads,” Sanders had instructed nodding to his bandaged hand as he handed over a pair of twenty dollar bills with a metal canister of solvent.

The money put gas in the truck and the leftover solvent was carefully hoarded for an experiment. Even with Michael’s careful handling of his make-shift cast while he worked on the task, he still finished having jarred the break one too many times.

Blue, cloudless sky stretched above him, keeping him warm and comfortable with a rare full stomach of breakfast. It was the perfect time, with his hand pulsing in unceasing agony, to test his theories about the effects other solvents had on his body outside of pain killing effects of acetone. There wasn’t much to lose, he reasoned darkly as he drank two quick swallows of MEK and laid back on his sleeping bag waiting for the effects to kick in, for better or worse.

Acetone reduced pain to a soft buzz in the background, like a gnat circling on the edges of his periphery. This solvent made him feel like the gnat, flying wildly through the negative space. 

Negative space, he mused with his eyes closed. That fit with close-tailored accuracy to his future prospects.

“Guerin, hey, Guerin!”

Right. Alex was here. Alex had found him. He was trying to avoid Alex for some reason. He couldn’t remember why at the moment as he opened his eyes to Alex’s handsome worried face. Christ, he was beautiful. Those eyebrows were bridged together though, closing the distance. Michael wanted to be that in the moment. A bridge, not a chasm. Not the negative space.

A warm, soft hand caressed Michael’s face, bringing his fluttering attention back to Alex’s. Sometime in between his thoughts, Alex had clambered up into the truck bed to sit next to him. The hint of amusement in his dark eyes won out over concern, “Are you just really high right now?”

“Yeah, super high,” Michael breathed, smiling broadly before moving to make room for Alex next to him.

Alex pursed his lips together, taking in a deep inhale of the surrounding air, “I don’t smell pot-”

“Not pot, something better.”

The concern and alarm was back as Alex started to pull away from Michael’s clumsy hold and look around the truck bed. “Like what, like, meth or OXY?”

“‘S fine, don’t worry, ‘kay?” Michael wrinkled his nose at the movements, and patted the space on his chest with his right hand. “Come lay back down, okay?”

“No, not okay, you need to tell me what you took so if you start to O.D. I can tell the hospital how to treat you-” 

The talk of a hospital cut through the fog. Michael pushed himself up with his good hand, before reaching to still Alex’s searching through the discarded blankets around him. Thankfully the discarded canister of MEK was in the cab of the truck with the contents of his pharmacy robbery, the box of nail polish remover and clean bandages. “No hospitals ever, okay? I’m fine, I promise. It was just… um, OXY like you said.” 

Staring in Michael’s eyes, Alex paused, still concerned and wary. “How much did you take?”

“Like two pills, and um, it wasn’t even off label, okay?” Michael raised his left hand, the dirty ragged cast punctuating the need. Like it had every time before, the reminder of that night in the shed sent a wave of shame and regret over Alex’s face. An effective subject killer, but it still pained Michael to use it. “Before you ask, I got the pills from Isobel. Her mom had dental surgery so they were left over. I didn’t rob the pharmacy for drugs.”

“I know.”

“You know?” While the rock-solid belief was nice, that wasn’t a part of his experience. 

Dropping his gaze down to Michael’s sloppy cast, Alex shrugged. “I overheard Jim Valenti telling my dad about the robbery, no drugs or money were stolen. Just beauty supplies and first aid stuff. It’s getting dismissed as kid type vandalism, not evidence of a drug cartel in Roswell.”

“That’s good.” Finally, news that brought relief to Michael, instead of increasing the heavy weight of dread in his chest. He started to lay back down on his sleeping bag and this time Alex followed, removing his keys and wallet from his jean pockets. Resting his face against Michael’s chest, his warm breath cutting easily through the thin cotton t-shirt, the argument was now forgotten between them as they took comfort in the closeness.

The high from the MEK was slowly fading, tiptoeing from his veins like a thief in the night. The echoing ache of his hand started up, the footfalls of sensation, getting closer and louder as the afternoon wore on until it was time for another bottle of acetone to chase it away. At least he knew the other solvent wouldn’t kill him, whatever that was worth.

“I looked it up, Roswell has a free clinic on Main if it’s about money-”

Not this fight again. It was his least favorite one, after the scholarship to UNM. Michael kept his voice soft, even though a surge of impatience tightened his throat.  “Alex, I can’t, okay? I can’t go to the free clinic because people are going to ask questions.”

“My dad deserves to get punished for what he did-” Alex lifted his eyes up to Michael’s from where he was tucked against Michael’s side.

“Not just about what happened. First question they ask is about ID, okay? And the address on my ID is two foster dicks ago. I can’t risk it. Attention from the authorities has never brought me anythin’ good.” Michael reached to stroke his fingertip over the renewed worried line on Alex’s face, “I know you think it should just be easy, like seeing a doctor, or going to UNM even though my scholarship only covers tuition and housing, not food, or gas, or school supplies outside of books.”

Alex frowned in response, “I’m not naive, Michael, I know all of that.”

“Yeah? Do you know how expensive it is to be homeless?” Pride nearly stopped that admission to Alex, but he was tired of fighting with the one person that seemed to care about him. “It’s ironic, but it’s true. No address, no bank account, but at least I’m finally eighteen with a high school diploma, so I can have a fighting chance at taking a cheap retail job to serve the tourists. ‘Cause right now my budget covers gas for my truck, food, and paying to use the truck stop showers out by Cowboy Ruckus twice a week, so I’m not shown the door as soon as I show up somewhere.” Michael had to shut his eyes to keep from seeing pity on Alex’s face. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t understand the ins and outs of how well the system protected everyone who worked within it but no one that stood on the outside.

It reminded him why he was avoiding Alex today in the first place. 

Last night Alex had seen him at the Wild Pony. At Ranchero Night. While Alex was there to help Maria and her mother, the assistant manager of the bar and restaurant to host the outreach night, Michael had no other reason for showing except for the obvious one. He was hungry and the grudgingly offered program by Old Fred that Mimi Deluca spearheaded meant he was going to get a full belly of hot warm food with no questions asked.

The stories behind his favorite parking spots in downtown Roswell weren’t romantic discoveries to share with Alex, they all revolved around proximity to safety and soup kitchens. Even showing up too many times at a particular food bank carried risk, from other men who lived rough. The fights that happened between prime sleeping spots, between two people comparing their nothing with less than nothing, spun up quickly. It was ugly, dangerous and Michael’s telekinesis could only keep him safe up to a point.

“And sometimes I go places where there’s free food and no questions. Like Ranchero night.” There was no disguising how hard his heart was pounding under Alex’s ear, but Michael could concentrate on keeping his breathing steady as he waited fearfully for his response. Finally, unable to stay quiet, Michael ventured, “still want to be with me?”

Alex lifted his head, biting his lip briefly. Slowly, with a mindful eye on Michael’s cast, he shifted closer to kiss Michael’s mouth gently. “I didn’t realize how hard things were, um, I’m glad you told me. I wish it didn’t take me seeing you at the Wild Pony for you to tell me.”

“You’ve got your own shit with your dad at home. At least I know my truck is safe, you don’t have that luxury.” It was something that Michael couldn’t help but worry about every night since the shed when he wasn’t worrying about Isobel. The level of violence and the comfort that Jesse Manes had in using that against his own son, while it shouldn’t have shocked a veteran of Child and Family Services, it did. Every night Alex went home to that. 

“It hasn’t been bad since that night, but I’m dodging my dad as much as I can. He’s probably just waiting until I’m 18.”

“Waiting for what?”

It was Alex’s turn to evade as he laid soft, suckling kisses down Michael’s throat. Michael chased at Alex’s lips, threading his fingers through the fading evidence of the black hair dye warring with the summer bleaching. They traded long, deep kisses, the heat of arousal building layers over the question until it slipped from view unanswered.

*** 

Michael walked confidently down the halls of the Roswell Travellodge toward the back stairs. The key to trespassing was to act as naturally as possible and hope he didn’t run into someone who knew him. Using the free ice machine in the various motels around town to stock up his small cooler was just one of the many life hacks he picked up since striking out on his own at sixteen.

His face was still throbbing from the lucky hit that jackass got in earlier after Michael had picked up dinner at the Ministries of Light community event. Someone felt like Michael needed to pay the unofficial cover to partake in the meal, and Michael had flipped off the guy, because every year on this planet had taught him how to treat a bully. A bully always has friends, and walking back late at night with a full stomach meant he hadn’t noticed his crowd of ‘admirers’ until they had him surrounded just a block from his truck. 

Thankfully between rolling a dumpster with his telekinesis and his fast retreat, he made it to safety with only the slowly swelling eye as a souvenir.

It had been at least three days since he had last crashed at Sanders, long enough to impose again on the old man’s couch. Michael finished filling his cooler with ice, wrapping a cold chunk in a discarded t-shirt to press against his face, and drove toward the auto yard with a plan in mind. Maybe the old man needed Michael to fix something. His left hand had improved enough now to move from awkward plaster to a drug-store brace, leaving some of his fingers free for more dexterous work. 

His headlights picked up a vague flash of movement just outside the office of the auto yard. Mindful of Rusty the dog, Michael slowed his approach to a crawl until he realized the movement wasn’t the yard dog, but Alex.

Michael swung out of the truck quickly, dropping the wrapped ice on the seat. Alex being here, unannounced, could only be trouble related to Jesse. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Straightening up from his seat in front of the office, whatever Alex was going to say originally abruptly vanished as he caught sight of Michael’s face under the wavering beam of the security lights. “What the hell happened to your eye?” 

Belated he reached up to touch his face, and joked, “A fight, but you should see the other guy. Or guys. I think it was at least four on one. But I’m okay.”

The bruise must have been more impressive than Michael realized because Alex just paled in response. Agitated Alex crossed his arms in front, turning half away as he rubbed his hands bare of jewelry against his forearms. “What the hell am I doing?” he asked himself quietly. 

“Alex?” Michael stepped closer, fear dropping his stomach downward in nausea. It was a dark survivor’s thought, but it would be a shameful waste to get sick now after a good meal. “Are you okay? Is it your dad?”

“I’m turning 18 tomorrow,” Alex replied in a non sequitur quietly. 

It didn’t sound like a joyous thing to reach the age of legal adulthood for Alex. “Happy birthday?” 

“My dad- listen, it’s never really been a choice okay? I’ve known it for as long as I can remember. I mean, fuck, I have to sign on my own, he can’t do it for me, but he might as well hold the pen in my hand.”

Michael wasn’t stupid. He knew enough about Alex’s family, his brothers, that the expectation of military service was less of a question and more of an accepted fact. He also knew Alex, who Alex was, and that was not a soldier of any kind. All of his reasoned arguments against this action jumbled in Michael’s throat, until the only thing that burst forward was inane words, “but you’re gay though, you can’t enlist!”

Huffing a tired sigh, Alex smiled sadly, “there are gay people every branch of the services, Michael. They just have to hide. My dad… my dad expects this of me. To join, to hide, to be...to be a Manes Man finally.”

“You can’t, you just can’t-” he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, breathing through his nose as he fought the nausea again. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either.” Alex reached for Michael’s face, keeping his touch light over the hot swelling bruise. The mark on Michael’s face seemed to deepen the grief in Alex’s eyes. “It’s never been a choice for me.”

“It can be. It can be a choice, if you just tell him no.”

“He would kill me.”

“The Air Force is just as capable of killing you too.” Michael reached up to guide Alex’s hand down to press against his chest, letting the wild beat of his pulse thrum against Alex’s palm. This boy, this kind and beautiful boy, brought the spark of life to all of the lost and deliberately discarded opportunities in Michael’s life. The thought of Alex being shuffled off to that same, colorless existence that he was stuck in after lighting Rosa Ortecho’s car on fire, threatened to break something in him. “Cutting yourself off from who you are, it changes you, and it’s not a good change. Please don’t do this to yourself.” 

Instead of responding, Alex looked back at the dark office of Sanders Auto behind them. “I don’t have to be home tonight, Sarge is letting me have one last night of freedom, so is it okay if I stay with you?”

“It’s an ancient couch I share with the dog,” Michael warned, licking his dry lips in response. At Alex’s nod, he led Alex over by the hand to the customer keys drop box and mailbox. After a moment he fished the key out from the hideaway safe and unlocked the office door. 

One last night together as innocent kids before the hard choices had to be made.

***

The next day, Michael ignored his schedule, the scratched out decisions that kept him functioning and moving with one foot in front of the other. Instead of partaking the truck stop shower or heading for laundry day the Evanes, as Ann and Bob always did a late brunch at their club, he instead decided to join Max for his thrice weekly coffee stalking of Arturo Ortecho. 

The scent of Alex was still all over him after he slept soundly on top of Michael, the only way to share that narrow couch. Rusty the dog had to settle with wedging his way between their legs and the less said of the amused look on old man Sanders face when he discovered them that morning, the better. 

Alex’s probably finished signing his life away at this point, Michael reminded himself.

“Jeez, he looks like such a tool,” Max commented, breaking into the cycle of Alex-related thoughts abruptly. Michael turned to look out the window of the Crashdown to see Kyle Valenti beaming and gesticulating excitedly in front of a new red Camaro. Both his parents, in uniform already for work, were watching their son proudly, arm in arm. “I don’t know how the Valentis raised a jerk like Kyle.”

Nice parents, nice car, nice life ahead of him for school as rumor had it that Kyle was headed to Michigan, and it was clear from Michael’s eyes the guy had no appreciation of the privileged ease of his life. All of that love and support in his life, only for Kyle Valenti to use it to bully people. Bully Alex. 

Anger was never far behind these days for Michael, his ever-present cellmate as he served his time for Isobel’s crimes. It swelled inside him, as the sun sparkled off the hubcaps and dazzled the eyes of onlookers from that deep cherry red car. Red like Rosa’s lipstick. Red like Liz’s prom dress. Red like the blood after the hammer dropped.

“Yeah, Jim Valenti deserves better.” That was Alex’s voice. 

Michael jerked his head away from the window to find Alex standing next to their booth. He had to be dreaming. Alex was supposed to be at a recruiter’s office, losing his freedom and all evidence of his personality right now, probably getting the remnants of that emo black hair dye job buzzed off at the barber. 

Except he wasn’t. Alex’s hair was still long and shaggy, brown sun-lightened locks spilling over his warm dark eyes. His earring and septum plug were back in, along with his jewelry. A lot of jewelry actually. Like maybe all of the jewelry Alex owned. Resting at his feet was a heavy duffle bag, the seams straining under the force of clothing packed inside. 

“Alex.” 

Shyly, Alex looked over at Max back to him, “Michael. It’s good to see you guys hanging out together again.”

“Alex.” Stupidly Michael kept staring at Alex, as if he was going to disappear if he blinked. “You’re here. You’re- you’re actually here, you didn’t-?”

Max creased his forehead, watching Michael completely unravel before him. “I kinda feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Alex Manes,” Alex held out his hand to Max jokingly, a small smile on his lips. He took a deep, audible breath and continued more seriously, “the disowned son of Master Sergeant Manes, currently homeless, and um, also Michael’s boyfriend.”

“Disowned?” 

“I had a choice, joining the Air Force or getting kicked out of the family. And um, so I’m going to be crashing on Maria’s couch for a while, just until I can save up-” Alex’s explanation was abruptly silenced as Michael launched himself from the booth toward him. His bag hit the ground as Alex wrapped both arms around Michael tightly. 

The patrons of the café faded into the background as Michael pressed his suddenly wet eyes into Alex’s neck. “Oh, thank god, you didn’t go.”

“I never wanted to go, okay?” Slowly Alex drew away a few inches, keeping his gaze on Michael’s face. His eyes narrowed at the bruise still blackening Michael’s eye, “and the choice wasn’t hard, when I realized it was you I was choosing. You gotta pick me too, okay? No more fights or robbing drug stores, I can deal with a lot, I know this won’t be easy being together but I can’t deal with violence. You gotta try, Michael.”

“Yes, yes, deal.” Aware of Max’s growing distrustful gaze, Michael ignored it. That could be their next fight with his brother after the subject of Isobel had been worn out, whether being close to someone human constituted a threat to their safety. Right now, the hard choice between their secret and Alex, didn’t have to be made yet. 

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Five

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

It was supposed to be simple. Clear out Weston Water Treatment. Start a new settlement at Oberland Station. Backhand wrinkled her nose. Partially in irritation, and partially to ward off the foul smell of super mutant.

  “If I'd known the place was infested I wouldn't have agreed to this shit.” She grumbled to the paladin in power armor beside her. “Rob could have been a little more generous with his count, I feel.”

  Danse chuckled, “Don't try to act tough, Knight Vega. You're still here, right? It's only a couple of super mutants.”

  “A couple, he says.”

  A bullet whizzed over her head, interrupting the easy back and forth between the two of them. Danse gritted his teeth and readied his laser rifle. “For the Brotherhood!”

  They easily picked off five mutants and two hounds, and Backhand pumped her fist in victory when a sixth mutant fell to Righteous Authority . However, then she heard something that sent her into a panic. Her whole upper body jutted heedlessly out from behind cover, stealth mods deactivated from her motion while she searched frantically for the source of the beeping. “Wait, Paladin wait! ” She yelled, grabbing hold of his arm as he thundered by and barely missing getting her fingers crushed in his elbow joint. His momentum dragged her along with him and she hurriedly dug her boots into the dirt. “There's a fucking-!”

  Danse’s huge gauntlet clamped onto one of the many straps on her combat armor and without so much as a look out , he hurled her up over the road and into the deep pond beside the treatment plant. The super mutant suicider screamed in triumph, “ Die, metal man! ”

  Backhand landed in the pond with an undignified splash, brown water pouring into her nose and mouth as she sank like a rock to the bottom. The following explosion sent shockwaves through the water and Backhand struggled to hold her breath.

  Danse, oh God Danse, please be alright!

  She finally broke the surface, eyes stinging from the acrid water. “Paladin Danse!” She coughed, hauling herself back up the banking. Smoking chunks of super mutant were scattered everywhere , green flesh burned brown and black. The suit of power armor was toppled over on its front. “ Danse! ” Backhand almost fell in her haste to get to the paladin, skidding to her knees beside the power armor.

  Her Geiger counter started to click loudly.

  “Shit, Paladin, c'mon! You've dealt with worse than this, you got cooked by a fucking rocket! Don't do this to me!” She pleaded, fighting with the manual release on the back of the suit. The fusion core was shattered, otherwise she could have just half-twisted the handle and popped him out easy. Backhand was stuck doing this the hard way. “Fucking answer me Paladin, please! ”

  “That's not...soldier-appropriate language, Knight.” A choked cough came from the half-crushed helmet. “Can you get the back open? I can't really...it's very heavy in this thing.” He rose onto his knees with one hand propping him up, leaving Backhand more than a little impressed. “A Brotherhood soldier's conditioning requirements are somewhat rigorous, Knight. Now please. The back.” Despite his reassurances he sounded strained.

  Backhand tore the plate metal over her knuckles on the rivets around the manual release wheel in her haste to get it undone, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally swung the back plate up out of the way. Danse pulled his head out of his helmet, got to his feet, and promptly collapsed.

  Backhand swore again, rolling him over. It seemed like his armor had taken the brunt of the impact but he got rattled around inside it like an old world pinball. She'd griped about the lack of padding in their undersuits the very first time she’d seen them, ‘ stupid military branches, always cutting corners. ’

  “Paladin, you still with me?” Backhand Vega, shittiest knight the Brotherhood has to offer. “Why the fuck are all your jumpsuits dark orange and brown , I can't tell whether you're bleeding or not!” She yelled in frustration, mostly to herself. At least that suicider had been the last of the mutants to deal with. “Alright, okay. You're out. Oberland it is.” She sighed when he didn't reply, slinging Righteous Authority across her chest and heaving Danse onto her back. Thank God for all that conditioning work so she'd been able to move her own armor frame back in the day. She may be in shape but Danse was by no means a small man.

  Getting over the damn hill to Oberland left Backhand almost spent. Half-carrying, half-dragging him up the station stairs at the end was torment, her calves screaming bloody murder. She dropped him on the bed and left her supply satchel on the ground, rummaging through it for her Stims. Some Rad-X probably wouldn't hurt either, it had been a mini-nuke that exploded next to him.

  “Knight Vega...” Danse mumbled blearily a few minutes after she inserted the Stim needle into one of the ports in his jumpsuit, the paladin obviously coming back around.

  Backhand couldn’t stop the way she snapped at him. Now that the terror for her companion had faded somewhat, she was left feeling exhausted and irritated. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have been obliterated by that asshole!”

  “Where are we?” Danse muttered instead, trying to sit up.

  “Oberland. Lay the hell back down, stupid idiots don’t get to sit up.” She pushed his shoulder and Danse’s back hit the mattress with a wheeze of rusty springs. “Don’t move.” She growled, using one of her shoelaces to hang the bag of Rad-X from the rafters and then hitching the end of the tubing to the needle still in his arm. Danse grunted, the dazed look on his face making Backhand extremely nervous. “Paladin, stay conscious.” She waved her fingers in front of his eyes and Danse jerked to attention. “Stay with me.”

  “I am, Knight Vega.” He retorted while his eyes drifted shut. “Right here.”

  “Ah ah, no napping.” She tapped his cheek and his eyes rolled open again. “Stay with me, Danse.” Backhand repeated, a little softer this time.

  “I am , Knight Vega.” Danse murmured. “Endured worse than this, remember?”

  “Doesn't mean I'm not going to worry.”

  Danse closed his eyes just enough to squint at her. “About me? You’re the one with no power armor. I’m supposed to be managing you , Vega.”

  …

  “Yeah, frickin’ bang-up job there ked.” Backhand retorted. “Coulda’ lost a hand in your elbow joint when you whipped past me like a bat outta’ hell.”

  Danse noted with a faint flash of amusement that apparently her accent thickened when she was wound up. “My hearing is not in peak condition. Specifically, telling where the sound is coming from can be an issue in my helmet. Proctor Ingram can only tweak it so much.”

  “That would have been good to know beforehand, Paladin.” Backhand said icily, her motions sharp and angry as she shed her combat armor breastplate. Her gauntlets followed suit, discarded in a pile on the floor. She was soaked to the skin, Danse noticed hazily.

  His head was pounding again, vision slowly becoming more and more unfocused. “Tell me about what it was like, Knight. Before the…before the war.” Danse slurred, trying his hardest to change the subject and stay awake.

  Backhand bit her lip, pulling the bedroll up a little higher until it was underneath Danse’s chin. He wasn’t sure whether she intended to simply ignore his question.

  “It was green.” She said softly, putting his wondering to rest. “There was always someone in your business. People were on top of each other most of the time. I mean, I was in the military so cramped quarters were normal for me, but for civilians…it was pretty hellish. In the mornings once we’d had breakfast, I would take Shaun outside to the front lawn and he would roll around on his little blanket. The neighbors were walking their dogs or mowing the lawn or something, we would all make small talk about the weather.” Backhand stopped talking and sighed heavily, tapping at the bag of Rad-X to keep it flowing.

  “What is it, Knight?” Danse hated the cold sweat that always broke out when he took Rad-X, but right now it was a necessary evil.

  “I think a lot of folks were a little intimidated by me.” She theorized. “I mean I was a young veteran, and pretty quickly became a single mother. Unheard of. For a while after I moved in I still had the eyepatch from my discharge incident, then a pair of super dark sunglasses, which definitely didn’t defang my appearance.” Her smile was melancholy and she brought her fingers up to her eye, tapping the area beneath it.

  The silence stretched on. Danse knew he needed to be patient. It’s not as if he could go anywhere, and it was fascinating to hear about pre-war from someone who had actually been there.

  “I told the neighborhood kids that I was a pirate and showed them all how to make newspaper boats and hats so they could be pirates too.” Backhand smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I modified one of my old MLCE packs so I could carry Shaun around the cul-de-sac with me when I jogged. Didn’t have the money for one of those baby carriers or even for a stroller after the divorce, so the pack had to do. He would put his little head down on my chest and sleep. Wasn’t bothered by all the motion or anything, just like his mommy.”

  Her pain was still clearly raw, even after however much time had passed. Danse didn’t know what to do, so he wiggled a heavy arm free of the sleeping bag and rested his hand on her own. She squeezed it back wordlessly, her jaw working.

  When she spoke again, she sounded more steady. “I can’t say that it was bad . The environment was safe and quiet. Everyone in Sanctuary Hills looked out for one another. Even if it was more motivated by curiosity and nosiness than an actual desire to help.” Backhand mused dryly. “The milkman couldn’t leave an extra bottle on your doorstep without six other people knowing. So exactly like the military.”

  “Sounds similar to the Prydwen.” Danse remarked, sick to his stomach a second after he said it. How many people must know about Maxson and I? He realized, swallowing hard to fight the sudden rush of nausea. He hadn’t thought about it at all, more than content with the illusion of privacy one usually maintained in the Brotherhood. The most obvious evidence of their dalliances was the busted mouth Danse always seemed to end up with, and those instances happened far too often for everyone to write it off as Danse just being clumsy or careless when he shaved.

  I bumped it. He grimaced as he recalled his weak explanation back on the Prydwen, the way Backhand had narrowed her eyes at him.

  Besides, he knew that he’d worn his excuses thin at this point. Trying to explain away the teeth marks Arthur left on his upper arm that one time was more than enough of a chore. He had looked like he’d been savaged by a feral, so at least he could understand the concern to an extent.

  “Hey, you alright? All the color just dropped out of your face.” Backhand noticed, her brows drawn in worry.

  Danse nodded, fixing his attention on the guttering lantern beside the bed instead of the wrinkles on her forehead. “Tell me more?” He asked eventually.

  “I miss the convenience of food. Even with the shortages, there used to be a grocery store on practically every corner.” She sounded wistful. “Shaun hadn’t really started solid foods yet, he was only just beginning to leave the twenty-four-seven nursing program. Not a minute too soon, the little bugger would suck me dry.”

  “You breastfed your child? Isn’t that-” Danse stopped himself, feeling uncomfortable. Normally breastfeeding was considered incredibly dangerous, for the baby and the parent. But before, when the radiation wasn’t so prevalent…things must have been different. “It’s none of my business, I suppose.”

  “No no, I get it. I know that nowadays trying to raise a child is tough enough without the added dangers of the irradiated environment. It was simpler back then. Could just unbutton your shirt and go to town, instead of having to unbelt all your armor and find a safe spot so that Junior can get lunch in.” Backhand grinned.

  Danse flushed a little at her frank speech, sternly telling himself not to dwell on the idea of her with an infant on her knee like some housewife from the pre-war mags. He had no recollection of his own parents, or siblings if he had them. Familial musing was not familiar territory, but it never failed to leave him with a sad ache in his throat. The same ache that assaulted him when he thought of Cutler-

  Backhand hissed in pain and Danse snapped out of his slide into melancholy, watching with horror while she peeled off her other glove. “Shit, I didn’t even feel that.” She grimaced, spreading her fingers. The sheet metal on her gloves was ripped through in some areas, and it had apparently taken a few healthy chunks out of her knuckles and the backs of her hands. Blood dribbled over her palm and Danse felt… odd .

  “Knight Vega, what happened?” Danse asked in confusion.

  “I was in such a hellfire hurry to get you out of your gear and the fusion core in your suit was busted. I uh...I don’t really know.” Backhand admitted. “I went panic mode and muscled the manual release as fast as I could, basically.”

  “The manual…” Danse trailed off as she wiped some dried blood away with the hem of her undershirt. “You need to bind that. Your knuckles-”

  “Nah, I’ll be fine.” She flapped a bloodied hand at him. “I’ve had worse.”

  “It’s irrelevant whether you’ve had worse, the fact of the matter is that right now, you’re the one who needs to protect us.” Danse shot back, a little annoyed with her carelessness. “Who knows what could be lurking out there? Everything in the neighborhood must have heard the suicider explosion.”

  “Ah, okay. Sorry, I’ll…you think a Stim would put this back together? Or should I save those for later?” She asked hesitantly.

  “Did you take any Stims from the Prydwen?”

  “No, I didn't want to take any resources from you guys.” Backhand shuffled through her pack, carefully counting out everything that she had. “I only have three Stims left. Wasn't expecting this detour.”

  Danse cursed under his breath, pushing to sit up by propping his back against the wall. The Stim that she had given him was doing its job, of course, but it would be several hours before he was fit for duty again. Anything could happen in that time. “Come here.” He ordered, disliking the sideways look she gave him. “Let me see your hands.”

  “H-Hey, I'll probably be fine. It's no biggie.” She protested, putting her left hand into his own all the same and then wincing. Danse, his brain jerkily reminding him that he was probably being a little too rough, nearly dropped her hand when he tried to casually loosen his grip. Alright, maybe he did spend more time than necessary in his armor. The truth of the matter is that Danse felt like a raw nerve without the comforting weight of plate metal on his body, exposed and too… soft .

  “I'll wrap this.” He decided aloud after several moments of careful manipulation to make sure her fingers weren't broken. Danse flipped open the small pouch by his hip, tugging out a tiny roll of bandaging and a nonstick gauze to dress her knuckles. “What? A Brotherhood soldier is always prepared.” He huffed when he noticed Backhand staring at him.

  “I gotta' get one of those.” She said, gesturing at the pouch. “Is that included in the suit? Or do they come separate from the requisitions officer?”

  “I can put in a supply order for you, if you'd really like one. It has...look, there's loops here. You could hitch it to your combat armor.” Danse loosened the bag and showed her the plethora of MOLLE straps on the back, chuckling a little when she made a clumsy attempt to snatch it out of his hands. “Mm, nice try. I've been around Haylen and Rhys. You've got nothing on either of them when it comes to pilfering my supplies, Vega.”

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She grinned ruefully. “I really ought to be nice to you. After all, you saved me from pretty certain death.”

  “I did?” Danse thought back momentarily and then remembered gauntlet slamming shut on the strap, whichever strap, doesn’t matter, shoulder-ribs, just be enough to hold her weight --He felt his face go hot recalling the unwarranted contact between them. “It was a…reaction. Sometimes I think I move too quickly for my mind to keep up.”

  “Lucky for me, I guess! Maybe the Sarge's bandanna is rubbing off on you.” Backhand got to her feet, stretching her arms over her head. She had peeled her Vault suit down and tied the sleeves around her hips again, the fabric pulled tight from her motions.

  Danse forced his eyes elsewhere, the sweat on his forehead having nothing to do with the Rad-X. What the hell is the matter with you? He scolded himself. Since when do you ogle women like this?

  “Do you think we should stay here tonight, and try to get to your armor tomorrow?” Backhand asked.

  “We have to. I’m not leaving it there indefinitely.” Danse cringed as he thought of the state his armor would be in. “I would like to go after it tonight, but I am…not in peak condition.” God , that stung to say. Whether he liked it or not, it was the truth.

  “ Hell no, not tonight. I’d rather let you sleep off the Stim and Rad-X, have you in fighting shape bright and early tomorrow morning.” Backhand gave him a look that was actually fond and the ache mounted up in his throat once more. “I’ll take first watch.”

  “Put your armor on!” Danse barked as she moved to the door, his voice harsher than he had intended. “You--I-I mean, you need to be prepared, Knight.” He tried to play it off, tried to relax his posture a little. He had nearly stood, shaky fingers crushing the rotted windowsill to try and support his weight.

  She waved her bandaged hand at him, as if to say hush , but still buckled her chest plating back on. Danse knew her moments of insubordination should have been worrisome. Had he gotten too complacent, too used to the less stringent requirements of fieldwork?

  He did let Rhys and Haylen slide. He just couldn’t stand the two of them dancing around each other anymore, it was maddening. Rhys talked a great game, he always had, but Danse would have to be blind not to notice the knight’s care for their scribe. It wasn't technically against regs, of course, but Danse knew if anything he ought to put his foot down. As their senior ranking officer, if the relationship went south between them he would be dragged into it. It was hard to justify it though, when he saw the two of them all curled up with one another.

  Better that they enjoy themselves now. Life could be so incredibly short.

  …

  “Hey, what’s your deal with the muties?” Backhand asked curiously. He had gotten a boatload of pre-war nonsense out of her, she figured she had earned at least one question. “You lose one of your own to them or something?”

  Danse made eye contact and Backhand’s breath caught in her throat. He looked positively worn, fragile , like all the life had gone out of his body. With an expression like that , she expected a great (if sad) story. All she got was a soft “ Yes ,” spoken in a voice thick with emotion.

  When it became apparent that that was the end of it, Backhand cleared her throat and readjusted the dingy pipe pistol in her hands. She proceeded to methodically count her bullets, trying not to make him feel like she was waiting for the rest. The experience left her shaken. She had thought Danse to be the typical soldier, but it was obvious now that there was much more to him than that. He clearly cared deeply for the wellbeing and safety of each member of his team, possibly too much for him to escape unscathed. He was one of those , she realized, practically a kindred spirit to her dearly departed senior officer Sergeant Cathan. Courageous, firm, the shelter in the storm. A true embodiment of everything a soldier should strive to be.

  “ I could not feasibly promise anything…it was not within my power to promise. ”

  She noticed Danse pull the bedroll up around his shoulders as if he was cold. There was a sharp wind that blew through the old station on top of the hill, but Backhand, New Englander to the end, barely felt it. She leaned on the worn bannister of the stairs, her eyes squinted against the darkness as the stars brightened overhead.

  There was more rustling from behind her and she assumed that Danse was doing his best to make himself comfortable on the old mattress, his frame a bit… large for the task. Backhand snuck a peek and was relieved to see him curled up in her bedroll, his back to the wall and eyes closed.

  She hoped that Paladin Brandis made it to the Prydwen safe and sound (and that her armor was still in one piece). She may have hoped a little harder that Brandis was already giving Maxson a run for his money. The idea of Maxson being thrown off his game made her snicker quietly to herself.

  Her good humor faded all too quickly when she recalled that there was nothing keeping them out here and away from the Prydwen once they finished cleaning up Weston. If something shifty was going on between Danse and Maxson, it wouldn’t be long before they were back in the thick of it. She cast another glance at the large man after she heard him mumble something, watching him shift around in the sleeping bag. There was an odd vulnerability to him when he slept, which she remembered all too well from their time in the police station.

  The wan sunlight hadn’t woken him as she scribbled her note, but he stirred when she placed the paper down on the floor beside his head. His bedroll was bunched uncomfortably at his elbows and she took a selfish moment to kiss his forehead and then tug the fabric up around his shoulders. It couldn’t hurt, she reasoned with herself. He had hummed in his sleep and snuggled down into the warm embrace of the bedroll. It made it incredibly difficult to leave, even with the two Mister Handy units cheerily patrolling the courtyard. If something happened…

  Well, it didn’t really bear thinking about. Backhand had the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time she and Danse would meet.

  …

  Backhand woke him for his watch shift at almost exactly two hundred hours. She looked fatigued and Danse ignored the protest of bruises on his body in favor of more quickly freeing up the mattress. “Got it warmed up for you.” He yawned, chuckling when she poked him in the ribs.

  “I bet you did, you big furnace.” She teased, her eyelids already drooping. “Nothing to report, sir. All’s been quiet.”

  “Carry on, Knight.” Danse saluted out of habit, scooping her combat armor up off the floor and beginning to adjust it to fit his own body. Once he was in some semblance of protective equipment, he snuffed the lantern on the bedside table and took his place at the window. He borrowed Righteous Authority from her, seeing as his rifle was back with his power armor. Probably lying on the ground, covered in super mutant gore. Danse frowned unhappily.

  His night vision had always been impeccable, with or without his helmet. Danse scanned the landscape for threats, glad that they at least had the high ground. If anything tried to attack, he would know well before they arrived.

  The Commonwealth was almost peaceful at night. Once all the raiders had bedded down with one another and the ferals had retreated to their holes, a tenuous calm reigned that was usually only broken by clans of ambitious super mutants or radscorpions.

  Danse rested his weight gingerly on the wall, afraid that it may not be able to support him in its decrepit state. Thankfully it held fast and he relaxed after a moment. His pulse was still quick enough for him to be slightly anxious. It was a normal leftover from using a Stim, but he disliked the feeling; epinephrine and adrenal-sour in his mouth while his heart slammed a tattoo on his ribs.

  Danse fought the desire to shake himself, certain that Backhand wouldn’t appreciate being woken up by the percussion of poor-fitting combat armor. Though she had mentioned that her son could sleep through anything, “ just like his mommy .” He imagined being on the front lines, getting your meager rest wherever you could and going for weeks without seeing a real bed would probably do that to a person. Lord knew he had a hard time readjusting to the quiet safety of the Prydwen after clocking lengthy stints of fieldwork or skirmishes with the Enclave.

  He had dreamed of Cutler again. Danse exhaled slowly through his nose, fighting the tremble of his hands. Mercifully the dream had faded well before Backhand woke him. He wasn’t sure how he would have reacted to being shaken awake while still in the grasp of his memories. He shook his head, propping the barrel of Righteous Authority up on the windowsill. He couldn’t go on like this, haunted by the echoes of a man who had ceased to be. True, they had a bond. A bond which Danse had naively believed was unbreakable. But when Cutler had gone missing…

  Danse was no stranger to horrifying experiences. Centaurs, super mutants and ferals plagued his nightmares, nightmares which inevitably led to an enormous super mutant hive in the Capital Wasteland...

Part Six

[nightwingshero]

“secrets get people killed” for Wren & John please??

Thank you, my dear!!! So...to clarify...this is the first time I've written for John and Wren in like...almost a year, I think. So this is sorta kinda their comeback...and this isn't particularly canon, but I could see it being a part of it. I just...went with the muse. I'm also sorry this is super late. I haven't been super inspired for them for a while and honestly, I almost cried writing it, because while it may be a bit rusty, I still love them so damn much. I hope you enjoy!

I had it under control. I was better. That was what I would tell myself, at least, and honestly it had become more of a mantra—something I would repeat like prayer for comfort as I tried to convince myself of the truth to it. The lie felt good, it gave me something to cling to, something that was at least a bit comforting.

But it was a lie. And for someone who held honesty above all else…well, we could just add that to the list of hypocrisy that I’ve committed since this began.

But my hands shake almost violently, skin and blood under my black nails as they dug into my palms. A clear indication that I was not in control, by far. My blood in my veins boiled in a fashion that I haven’t felt, almost as if I had shot up the strongest bourbon I owned instead of swallowing it whole, every ounce of me vibrating with the rage, the anger, the wrath of it.

“You son of a bitch.” I muttered, but I knew deep down that I was only to blame, and so did he. That didn’t stop his blue eyes flashing to mine, lightening quick, as he turned on the heels of his expensive boots. Only a piece of his hair falling into his face, rioting against the gel, gave any indication that he wasn’t put together—that his own rage was meeting mine.

“Oh, darlin’, you know better than that. We know who is to blame for this.” John sneered in defense, his tone dripping with sugary sweet malice with the very mouth that whispered sweet nothings, empty promises of delicious sanctuary. For each. And every. Confession.

“Yes, darling.” I mocked, my own burgundy painted lips twisting, accepting the challenge with retribution feeling like euphoria—a sweet, blissful high. “All my fault, isn’t it?”

I expected another outburst—I craved it—but he only tilted his head as he scrutinized me. My heart pounded at he stalked just a bit closer, taking the dirty black tank and ripped skinny jeans that was caked with blood and sweat—something that made the loose hairs also cling to my skin, making it crawl but I refused to cower in front of him. I didn’t fear the Baptist of Holland Valley.

“What did you think would happen, deputy?” he asked softly, his voice no longer the sharp edge of a weapon against me, and it was enough to make me blink. Suddenly it felt as if I had found my way onto unstable ground, everchanging and shifting beneath my boots as I tiptoed.

The lack of use of my name is a tell, and the hairs on the back of my neck manage to stand on end as I navigate the playing field. Ever so careful. “And what would your dear Father Joseph say, Johnny Boy?” I shot back. “My dear, you’re not looking very worthy.”

That made his face turn beet red with rage, his eyes a storm that promised a drowning if I dared ventured into its waters. And how many times have I dared and walked away free? Dare I try my luck once more? The answer came from him, however, as he stepped forward and wrapped a tattooed hand lovingly around my neck.

Which was met with my own knife pressed against his—a light kiss against his jugular with the blue of my blade.

It only made him smirk and laugh. “The last time you did this, you were drunk off your ass, straddling me with a fucking butter knife.”

“The last time I did this, I could have taken you. You got lucky.”

“Forgive me, darling, but I believe we got lucky.” I huffed at his crude joke, memories of us on the couch just weeks before. It felt like a lifetime ago, or even an out of body experience, as we somehow managed to end up wrapped around each other with bite and claw marks marring our skin and complementing the ink we had discovered on each other.

“John.” I pressed through gritted teeth as my hand shook, begging to open his throat to end the suffering of the people, but not being able to do it. Not having the strength to follow through, not when he was this close with his cologne intoxicating me in a way whiskey never could.

His brows furrowed as he leaned in closer, his thumb lightly rubbing over my pulse as he pursed his lips. “Secrets get people killed.” He whispered to me. “Wren, you know this. What did you expect of me? You knew what would come. The Confession is rather forward in that regard.”

“Maybe.” Tears pooled as my hand fell from his neck, the knife slipping from my numb fingers and clattering against the hard wood of his home. “But they died for mine.”

“Ours.” He corrected, his mood shifting ever so slightly. “I do believe I’m a willing participant.”

“This is wrong.” He only hummed, whether in agreement or not, I wasn’t sure. But he refused to move, his fingers still pressed against my flesh, running over dried blood. “You killed them—”

John clicked his tongue, sharp and clear, in disapproval. “And how many, pray tell, have you killed, my dear? I recall Jane bringing me Holly Pepper’s body rather recently. Is that because she knew or because she was jealous?”

“Because she tried to fucking kill me!” I snapped, my patience running thin as I glared up at him.

“And you don’t think your precious resistance wouldn’t do the same to me?” He hissed in my face. “Have no doubt that the blood on my own hands only mixes with what’s already on yours.”

Words were weapons, but that was more of a slap to the face, and while I want to fight, to say that my cause was better, that I was better, my words fall flat and bitter on my tongue—usually sharp and made of silver, but now dull and made of lead. I wanted to push away, but he wouldn’t let me, both hands coming to cradle my face instead, softly continuing.

“What do you think would have happened if I had let them live, darling?” His eyes darken as he looked down at me, my breath escaping me completely. “What do you think they would have done if they found out that you scream my name for far different reasons than most do behind these walls? What would they do to you then?”

“John—”

“They would kill you, wouldn’t they?” He asked, cutting me off. “Like how they tortured Randy, after claiming he was a deserter…after swearing they were saving him. That is nothing compared to their precious deputy falling into the bed of the Baptist of Holland Valley.”

My face contorted as I fought against it, but I knew deep in my bones he was right. The faces of the people I had fought to save…only looking at me with disgust as they realized the truth, as they caught me sneaking from John…only to have their bodies found the next day with the sins carved into their skin, propped for all to see. “That doesn’t excuse what you did to them.”

“Secrets get people killed, my darling, but your truth…will destroy you.” My eyes widened as he tipped my head back, pressing his forehead firmly against mine. “And you wonder why I have their blood on my hands… I could make you my queen, I could protect you, and you would have a place by my side…but the secrets, Wren…you make me worthy…and until you’re ready to stand by me, I will keep your secret…and kill anyone who threatens your truth if I have to.” John’s eyes flashed dangerously to mine, dark and intense. “We’ll share the burden of their blood, my dear.”

And his lips crashed harshly against mine as my lip cut and the taste of blood bitter on both our tongues.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Rock and roll the night away!

What better way to escape than getting lost in music? Headphones on, thoughts off - nothing like some good bops to help get you through the day.

KK Slider's been looking into expanding his musical repertoire so he's been playing around with different genres in hopes of creating a brand new sound. And that's how rock and roll night came to be!

Joining us on this musical adventure are Sonja, with her siblings Robbie and Tiffy, and cousin Bubba. It's been ages since Daisy Jane and I have last hung out with Sonja so it's nice that she and her fam dropped by for a visit. I've hung out with Robbie and Bubba a handful of times while this is the first time I've met Tiffy.

Sonja's been meaning to stop by the camp for a while but life has gotten busy. She also wanted her dad and stepmom to come along too but then something came up so they were unable to make it at the last minute. Same thing for her grandma, though to be honest, camping isn't really her thing so it's probably for the best that she didn't come.

Old Thelma Lou may come across as a cantankerous old lady but she really is a nice person once you get to know her. Underneath that rough exterior is a protective, dedicated, and tough mother figure who wants what's best for you, even if she kinda has a hard time showing how much she cares about you. We video chatted with her before the concert and she's still the same old Thelma Lou, keeping an eye on her children, grandchildren, and their friends in her own unconventional ways.

We also chatted with Buzz and Skeeter, both who are doing well. The reason why they weren't able to join us at the camp is because Skeeter's pregnant again. She and Buzz were going to have a boy last fall but there were complications and the baby was stillborn. So far things are moving along smoothly, but to be safe, Skeeter's on strict bed rest. In about four months, Sonja, Robbie, and Tiffy will have a little sister!

Sonja has been busy working on her graphic novel, which she plans to release in the fall. She's a freelance graphic designer and illustrator, known for posting relatable and funny comics online. I love her art - it's got a sketchy and loose style that's sorta minimal yet super expressive. When I got into digital art, I took some inspiration from Sonja's work by using pencil brushes for line art and the gouache brush for coloring.

After working in the studio for hours on the book over the past several weeks, Sonja felt she could use a change of scenery - which was the main reason why she wanted to come to the camp. She also wants to get back into using traditional mediums like painting so she brought along some canvases and paints. The great outdoors is perfect for finding inspiration when you're in a rut!

Robbie runs a fix-it shop in Elmstown with two of his friends. His specialties are clocks and anything that has a lock thanks to his grandma and dad - Thelma Lou likes collecting clocks and Buzz's a locksmith. He's the reason why the family saves so much on repairs - Robbie and his friends can pretty much fix anything! Elmstown is pretty far but I'm keeping his business card in case I need something fixed like my computer since that'll be more cost effective than sending it to the store where I'll probably get overcharged.

It's a good thing we have Robbie here to help KK Slider with the equipment. He had some old amps and guitars that he'd been meaning to get fixed but since they were custom made, it's hard to find parts that need replacement. Thankfully, Robbie never leaves home without his toolbox and with his magic, we were able to improve the stage setup.

Bubba's still living with Thelma Lou, though he's in the process of moving out to his own place. He's not leaving Rayetown though, just moving to the other side of town so he can be closer to the post office. Along with delivering packages for the citizens of Rayetown, Bubba's also a drummer and occasional lead singer for The Cogwheels, a local band that regularly performs at the Chili Bowl.

Thelma Lou and Bubba have a sweet relationship. He's the oldest of the Harp grandchildren through Thelma Lou's daughter. His parents pretty dumped him on Thelma Lou's doorstep when they moved halfway across the country, which wasn't very nice of them. His mom and grandma have a stormy relationship so that explains why Thelma Lou's kinda overprotective of him, and in return he respects her a lot. Recently though, Bubba and his mom have been keeping in touch sporadically - thanks to Uncle Buzz and Aunt Skeeter. As for his dad though, since he walked out on his mom, he hasn't heard from him in years, which he feels is probably for the best.

And there's Tiffy, the youngest (so far) of the grandchildren. She's seven and a half years old and likes to sing and dance. This is her first time being away from home for a couple days so she's pretty excited about it. Plus, she gets to spend time with her siblings, something she always looks forward to since they live far from home. By the time she was born, Sonja and Robbie had already long moved out of Rayetown. Up until Tiffy came along, Sonja and Robbie rarely visited home, a deliberate choice that they both kinda regretted but at the same time felt it was necessary.

Tiffy's looking forward to the new baby - and she's absolutely certain that things will work out this time. She was really bummed about what happened with her brother, especially since she always wanted a little sibling. Buzz and Skeeter had been trying for years to have another kid - they didn't have Tiffy until about six years into their marriage - and that was after being told many times that they missed the boat. It's a good thing they didn't give up or else Tiffy wouldn't be here today!

While helping KK Slider set up for the concert, we also went sightseeing outside the camp. Now that the weather's warming up and the sun's staying out longer, we can venture further out. The first place we went was the mountains, where Sonja was inspired to pull out her canvases and paints. She's been working on landscapes and backgrounds so it was the perfect opportunity. Since she had a lot of fun doing that, I figured we could do the same in other places outside the camp like the woods or the meadows.

As they were testing out the equipment, KK and Bubba were jamming out while Tiffy danced. She definitely inherited Buzz and Skeeter's dance skills! Tap dancing and ballet are her favorites and she definitely wants to branch out to other forms of dance. Her parents are looking into more dance classes for Tiffy, which she's excited for. One of the reasons why she's looking forward to having another sibling is so she can have a dance partner in the future. Imagine, Tiffy and her little sister, dancing together!

Later, Robbie joined in on the jam session, playing the bass. Apollo, Static, and Cherry joined in as well, and before we knew it, all of them were writing new songs that eventually became the setlist for the concert! Sonja later got into the jam session after Daisy Jane showed her around the cabin and her studio. I sense a collaboration between the two in the near future...

Around 5 we finished setting up for the concert and began preparing for a barbecue dinner. By the time all the food was set up, it was time to rock and roll! I have to say, KK and the campers really outdid themselves with the stage setup. It was a mix of performances by KK Slider and jam sessions by us. The concert was an awesome experience!

In the span of one hour, Bubba and KK wrote Road Ode. KK came up with the intricate melody that's a perfect fusion of his signature sound along with elements of classic rock. Bubba came up with the lyrics, taking inspiration from his relationships with his mother and grandma. Easily one of the highlights of the night.

Apollo sang lead on a number he co-authored with KK Slider titled Old Man Blues. It's a bluesy rock and roll tune with a catchy guitar riff that's stuck in my head as I write this. The light show visuals really add to the vibe of this song, elevating it to another level.

Static and Cherry performed Heavy Metal Ballad as a trio with KK Slider - another song that was just finished today. The song was actually three different compositions that merged into one. Cherry has been playing around with a cool heavy metal beat for a while. She had a good thing going on but had trouble turning it into something, so she put it aside in hopes of finding the right spark to kick it off. Static came up with lyrics for the chorus, originally through a little ditty he called Lightning Muses. And like Cherry, he had something but couldn't figure out what direction he wanted to take it. Then along comes KK Slider, who saw the potential in these two wildly different compositions. Somehow, with his verses and additional melodies, he created an instant hit!

In an unexpected surprise, KK Slider got Daisy Jane and I on to perform a new KK original as well as a couple songs from Lilac and the Cadillacs. The new song, Sky Blue Twilight, is a collaboration between me, Daisy Jane, and KK Slider. It was something we came up with a while back, and I had almost forgotten about it until today. I'm pretty rusty from songwriting but working on this piece was pretty fun! I really should get back into writing music...

Sonja, Robbie, and Tiffy also joined Bubba on stage for another new song, titled All That Rock 'n' Roll. Tiffy sang lead vocals with Sonja on the keys and Robbie on bass. Along with being a fantastic dancer, Tiffy's a great singer! I filmed the whole thing for Bubba so he can send it to Thelma Lou, Buzz, and Skeeter. I have to say, KK Slider and Bubba make a great songwriting team!

Another fun song is Violet Blaze, an upbeat rock and roll tune by KK Slider, Candi, Kabuki, and Spike. KK Slider really outdid himself on that guitar solo! With riffs like that, there's no other song fitting to be titled Violet Blaze. What one can't put into words, music expresses it - one just has to listen and feel.

And of course, in between the new songs were KK Slider classics, but remixed. It's amazing how changing up the genre can give well known songs a fresh makeover! That's what I love about KK Slider's music - the versatility. In terms of reinventing his sound while staying true to himself, I'd say KK Slider succeeded with flying colors!

Aside from Tiffy and the early risers, the rest of us have been rocking and rolling way past midnight. I'm still a bit buzzed from the concert, which just ended less than an hour ago, so I'm gonna unwind for a bit before going to bed.

[theloverofdragons]

Return to Ravenloss

It’s ironic, the Hero thought to themselves, that while the towns on the surface seemed darker, the one below the ground was bursting with colour.

Where before they had been frozen, Ravenloss had been abandoned aside from the half-spider Chaosweavers, it was now teaming with life from all across Greenguard; humans, elves, minotaurs, even a few Atelans. The lights on the streets and from the now occupied and decorated houses and shops reflected off the underground flora, and the stalls in the market sold all kinds of items, from food to clothing to weapons; a far cry from the last time they had visited.

However, despite Ravenloss’ newfound colour and beauty, there was a sense of fear in the air that became clearer as the Hero approached the Equilibrium Gate and saw the strange purple magic of the Void leaking through, turning the path leading up to it almost incorporeal and corrupting and moving the houses, bushes and rocks around it.

Sa’vaya said that Tomix was in Pellow Village so that would be their first stop, they decided, nodding to Dorian as he warned them to be careful. It had been far too long since they had seen him, not since before they had to go to Willowshire to deal with Gorgok before the whole Earth Orb saga (and oh so much had happened since then; the Ultimate Orb and the Super Mega Ultra Darkness Dracolich, the Wrath of Wargoth and then being frozen by Jaania for five years and emerging into a world that was familiar and yet so different…).

The Hero had missed him, and the two of them had much catching up to do (hopefully his hunt for Lust had gone well); after all, he was the first person outside of Oaklore and Falconreach that they were visiting since they had thawed.

Despite the growing corruption of Ravenloss, Pellow Village looked much the same as they remembered as they emerged from the Equilibrium Gate with the market to their left, the grove to their right and the statue of Pandora in front of them. Speaking of Pandora, they hadn’t had a chance to reunite with her yet – aside from feeling an intense surge of joy when they thawed – as she evidently wanted them to get their bearings first (after all, it wouldn’t do for them to be disorientated from newly thawing and run the risk of making it worse if Pandora materialised), but hopefully they could have their reunion soon.

Very soon, it turned out, as once they had entered the grove where the Glow Tree was, a familiar flash of light emanated from the cube by their side.

The Hero turned with a smile. “Hi Pandora.”

Their SoulAlly returned the smile. “I missed you, Hero. How are you?”

“I missed you too,” the Hero replied softly. “I’m…okay. As okay as I can be, I think. But you know me, Pandora; I keep going no matter what! How are you? Were you okay while I was frozen? I know my dragon had Serenity and others in Falconreach to look after them.”

Pandora gave a tinkling laugh. “I know you do, Hero. I look forward to being able to weave by your side once more. It was hard, but I had Aegis and Tomix visit to keep me company.”

“I’m glad you had them,” the Hero’s smile widened. “And me too; I can’t wait to weave with you again. Maybe Tomix will have some new tricks to teach us.”

“It’s possible,” Pandora agreed before a block of ice materialised and shrunk away, revealing a familiar light blue spirit.

“Pandora? What are you doing in Pellow-oh,” a smile slowly spread over Aegis’ face when he noticed the Hero. “That makes sense. Hello, Hero. It is good to see you again.”

“Hey Aegis,” the Hero waved before cocking their head to one side. “Good to see you too. You look…different from what I remember.”

“Ah yes,” Aegis looked down at his shield. “While you were frozen, on Pandora’s request, I attempted to melt the ice crystal but the magic was too powerful. I am attuned with the element of Ice so the magic was able to change my appearance.”

“I see,” the Hero nodded. “Well thanks for trying, Aegis.”

“You are most welcome,” Aegis grinned. “By the way, Tomix is just to the right of the grove, at the edge of Pellow Village.”

“Thanks, Aegis!” the Hero grinned back. “Hopefully we’ll be able to have a proper catch up later, and with you Pandora back home where we don’t have to worry about something exploding.”

“I look forward to it,” Aegis laughed as Pandora – who had been gazing at the Hero with a look of maternal affection – smiled and vanished back into the cube, before disappearing himself in another flash of ice.

The Hero glanced down at the floor, their cheeks beginning to hurt from smiling so much; after so long frozen, it was good to see some close friends again. And now to see one who they regarded as one of the closest of them all. They  rounded the corner to the edge of Pellow Village where a wooden structure that looked like the beginning of a ship was moored, with a familiar white haired figure standing in front of it.

“Tomix!”

The Soulweaver turned and his eyes lit up. “Hero? So it is true, you are alive and well! These past few years have been really tough for all of us. I believe we have a lot catching up to do.”

“We absolutely do,” the Hero grinned, darting over and enveloping Tomix in a hug before he could protest. “How are you? What’s happening with Ravenloss?”

Tomix made a show of dusting himself off once the Hero had released him before returning the grin. “It seems the Equilibrium Gate cannot be closed, and the Void is bleeding through it. Unfortunately, I can't find a way to stop it. The area around the gate is off-limits, for the safety of people living in the city.”

“I see,” the Hero nodded. “What about Riadne and Izaac? Are they still here?”

“They are,” Tomix lifted his hand to point back towards the Equilibrium Gate. “Riadne is currently helping in the Ravenloss Orphanage. She will be joining me, once this ship is ready. When the Chaosweavers were driven out of Ravenloss, she turned her attention to help rebuild it. As for Izaac, he has been studying Pellow Village... for all these years apparently. Do me a favour and don't raise your voice while talking with him. He's gone a little cuckoo. It seems the void has a strong influence on the weak-minded. You should be careful.”

The Hero blinked. “Hey! You were never joking before! What happened?”

Tomix smirked. “You are only young once, but you can be immature forever.”

“I…think I’ve read that somewhere before,” the Hero mused, stroking their chin.

“Quite possibly,” Tomix nodded sagely.

“So I never got the chance to ask after we banished Greed, but what exactly happened to your hands? Are they alright?”

“Ah, yes...” Tomix gave a wry grin. “You see, SpiritLooms are not supposed to break. The ones I had were already damaged because of what was sealed within them. The weaving accident I had as a kid must have damaged them even more. They... they also fused with my arms... I couldn't replace them neither repair them. Once they broke, it felt...it...let's just say it wasn't a pleasant feeling... Eh, cutting to the chase, I lost my hands. My physical, material hands. What you are seeing here, is my soul. I shaped a part of it to look like hands. I can't touch nor grab anything physical. I still can fight though, so don't think I'm useless...”

“You’re definitely not useless, Tomix,” the Hero declared. “It’s always an honour to fight by your side, and you’re an amazing teacher as well! What about your hunt for the corrupted spirits? Did you banish Lust?”

Tomix’s grin faltered and he sighed shakily. “Before banishing Lust, she revealed to me, that Aspar is Envy. I did not believe it at first, why would I? Aspar was my best friend... He vanished a few months after I banished Lust. I thought he'd come back, like he did before when we were hunting Wrath. But he hasn't. I'm still feeling the bond, but it's become corrupted. I'm trying really hard not to believe that Aspar is Envy, but all the evidence is telling... I have really good memories of our journeys, and I hate to think he's been Envy this whole time. Fooling me. Using me... Using me for his own plans...or something. I don't know. But I do know where he is now. He's heading into the Ynnungaap. I'm not really sure why though. To get there, I need a ship, a flying ship. A ship strong enough to reach Ynnungaap. I need all the help I can get, you are welcome to join me Hero, if you wish. You are one of those who I can still consider a friend...”

“Oh…” the Hero covered their mouth with their hand. “Oh Tomix, I’m so sorry. Of course I’ll come with you to stop him. What’s the Ynnungaap?”

“Thank you, Hero,” Tomix replied. “Ynnungaap is a location beyond the void, also known as Deep Void. It is where the void core is located. I'm guessing this might be Asp-I'm sorry, Envy's point of destination. But why? What could he accomplish with the void core? I thought I knew him well...”

“We’ll find out what he’s planning, Tomix,” the Hero vowed. “And we’ll stop him! What about your SoulWeaving though?”

“I had to form a bond with a different elemental spirit, I couldn't weave without Aspar by my side. I visited the plane of elemental spirits and came across a familiar figure; Aegis. We travelled to visit Pandora, and discussed my quest as we did so, and so became SoulAllies.”

“Oh wow!” the Hero jabbed their finger behind them in the direction of the grove. “We just saw Aegis. That explains why he’s in Pellow Village if he’s your SoulAlly! I’m so happy for you two. So where do we start on our mission to stop Envy?”

“Straight back into it, huh Hero?” Tomix laughed. “Well we need people to help us build the ship. I think the first step would be visiting Edelia, the school of Soulweaving. The Headmaster can give us supplies and people for the ship. On our way there, you can show me some Soulweaving so I know you’re not too rusty! And who knows, maybe I’ll have time to teach you some advanced techniques and can call you ‘Master Soulweaver’ soon.”

“Looking forward to it, Tomix! Let’s get going!” the Hero grinned, turning and running back towards the Equilibrium Gate.

Tomix watched them go, shaking his head fondly before following at a more leisurely pace. No matter how much things had changed, they were still raring to go on an adventure. And he had to admit, he was looking forward to showing them Edelia…

The Soulweaver stopped suddenly, his eyes widening with realisation. Hopefully while they were meeting the headmaster, the topic of which elemental spirit the Hero was bonded to wouldn’t come up. Headmaster Zellaraneish and the Hero. Baltael and Pandora.

An impromptu family reunion may not go too well.

****

Disclaimer: DragonFable is owned by Artix Entertainment. Dialogue taken from talking to Tomix in Book Three Falconreach before Ravenloss was open, and then in Pellow Village.

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