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atths--twice · 4 years ago

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Moving right along in season 11, it’s time for The Lost Art of Forehead Sweat. Such a good and funny episode. Of course, the ending is just rife with possibilities and here is my take.

Chapter Thirty Three

Lost Art Remembered

Remembering how it all was, Scully and Mulder take a journey down memory lane. It’s always best to remember the past through trails of kisses, right?

January 2018

I want to remember how it was. I want to remember how it all was.

Sitting on the couch, they stared at each other, the Bigfoot Goop-O mold still wobbling, each of them thinking of the past, the way it all was. Millions of memories and definitely no Reggie. He was never there, she was sure of it.

She looked at Mulder’s lips, thinking of them on her own, and on her body years ago and again just recently. She wanted to kiss him now, but she stopped herself. They were still in limbo with them and she felt unsure how to move forward.

“I ... I should get going,” she said quietly, unlocking her fingers and running her hands along her thighs. He held his gaze on her, his brow furrowed slightly. She watched him swallow then he cleared his throat.

“You could stay, if you’d like ...” he said, low and quietly.

His voice made her pause. She was always affected by his voice when he spoke that way. Add that to the fact they were slowly beginning to come back to each other, it was a deadly combination.

The memories of the sex they had in their motel suite and then once after their date later that same night, was still fresh in her mind. It had been a few weeks, but it was still there, front and center.

The past few days had been … interesting, if nothing else. It had brought up past memories and created some pretty flirty stakeouts. It had been really fun, even if it was confusing. Like old times, really.

They still had not spoken of the future, and they desperately needed to have that discussion. Serious conversations were not their strong suit though, not when it came to them. If she stayed, the only talking that would occur would be “how fast can you get these pants off me?” Not exactly the kind of talking she meant.

Although, sometimes that was how they needed to move forward. Sex, then talking. They had always been better at non verbal actions. Maybe that was what they needed now.

It could work. But it felt like a band-aid covering an open vein. It would work for a while, distract them, make them laugh, but it did not fix the problem.

No. Getting up and getting out, that was what she needed to do. Needed maybe, but it was definitely not what she wanted. Why was everything so hard when it came to matters of the heart with them?

She stood up abruptly and shook her head. “No, Mulder. I ... I should get going. It’s getting late.”

She heard him sigh as she stepped toward the door. She grabbed her jacket, keys, gun, and wallet. She reached for the doorknob and she heard him behind her. Close but not too close. Letting his presence be known, but saying nothing.

She froze with her hand on the doorknob. She really did not want to go back to that lonely house. It lacked the warmth and memories of this little unremarkable one. The love, arguments, laughter and tears that happened here, they were what made it their home.

“Ask me again,” she said, barely above a whisper. She knew once he asked, she would not be walking out the door. She heard his movements cease and they both stood, not facing each other, making a decision.

Five seconds and she heard his whisper.

“Stay. Please.”

She was in his arms, all her items on the floor, her mouth locked with his, at lightning speed. His hands on her ass as she dug her nails in his neck. He walked them toward the stairs and she tripped backwards, her ankle hitting the bottom step.

He grabbed at the railing and kept a hand on her waist. They slid and fell onto the stairs, her legs wrapping around him, never breaking their kiss. His hand at her waist went to her head as they landed and she almost cried at the quickness and care he showed.

Her back was pushing into the steps and his weight was adding to it, but she welcomed the feeling. They had made love on the stairs many times over the years. Quick, down and dirty sex when they were angry. Or other times, when they could not make it either to the couch or up the stairs before they had to have each other. They had been younger then, but in this moment, she felt like she was in her thirties again, when all it took was his smile to give her butterflies.

She did not want this night to end on the stairs, so she began to shift. She wanted to be in their bed, his scent surrounding her, as he made love to her. She broke their kiss and rested her head against his.

They were both out of breath. When she moved, she felt his beginning erection, and it made her weak. She had gone too long without feeling him inside her. Four years and then a few weeks was far too long. Even a day seemed too long. She needed to get up those stairs.

“Mulder, bed, now,” was all she could get out as she panted and twisted out from under him. She looked at him as she freed herself, kissing him and stroking his face, before she turned and headed up the stairs.

“I was going to do that thing you liked as you held onto the railing, but we can head upstairs too, if you want ...” he said, beginning to follow her.

She stopped at the top of the stairs at his words. Oh, the railing thing ... Jesus. She did love that. Him with his mouth on her center, making her wet as she gripped the railing, the stairs adding height and leverage in a way no other place could.

But not tonight. He could replicate that in the bed instead. Make her wet and make her come. Christ … she was already halfway there. She looked back at him and saw his smirk. Goddamn him. He knew how to get to her.

Two could play at that game, she thought. She reached for the bottom of her shirt, lifted it over her head, and threw it down to him. He caught it and threw it behind him. Her camisole was tossed next and he threw that behind him, too. His eyes stayed on her and she watched his chest rise and fall.

She stood there in a satin sapphire colored bra, the straps impossibly thin, with tiny white bows where they met the cups. She watched him grip the railing and put a hand on the wall. She brought her hands up to the front clasp, but he rushed up the stairs and stopped her.

“Not yet. And I’ll be the one to take that off of you,” he growled as he wrapped his arms around her and it made her shiver.

He turned her and pushed her toward their bedroom. She felt her back hit the door as he pushed her into it, using the weight of both of their bodies to get it open. Had to admire his thought process, as he used what he could when his arms were full and his concentration was elsewhere.

He had his mouth on her neck, kissing and licking his way around like he was following a beloved treasure map. He knew all the spots to hit to earn his reward of her moans and gasps.

Her legs hit the bed and she grabbed onto him before she fell back. His grip around her tightened and then she pushed him back. She reached to unbutton her pants, but he stopped her with his hands and a shake of his head.

“I told you, I would be the one to take that off,” he said, his hands lightly stroking up her sides.

“You said the bra. You didn’t stipulate the other items of clothing,” she said, her hands resting on his chest.

“Oh, we’re going to get into semantics now? Is that what’s happening?” he asked her, his hands sliding to the straps of her bra, fingers stroking the bows, before he slid his fingers up to pull the strap down.

His mouth followed the strap and he kissed her shoulder, her upper arm, the inside of her elbow, before he slid the strap back up.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows, then tilted her head to the side. Silently asking him, what the hell he was doing.

“Not yet,” he said, smiling at her.

“Not yet to all of it? Or just the bra? I want to be clear here which items you will be removing as opposed to which ones I will be ...”

“Scully,” he said, his thumbs grazing across her skin as his hands landed on her waistband. “I will be taking all your remaining items of clothing off, understood?”

His eyes and his words burned like the heat of a thousand suns. She took deep breaths as his fingers closed in on the button of her pants. She moved his hands and plopped down on the bed.

“You better start with the boots then,” she said, sticking out her foot as she leaned back on her hands.

He stared at her, a grin slowly creeping across his face, before he knelt down and grabbed her foot. He unzipped her boot and pulled it off, looking up at her as he did. She smiled as he tossed her shoe over his shoulder and it thudded to the ground.

He reached for the other one and stopped. He laughed and looked at her again. He grabbed her sock covered foot and rubbed her toes through it.

“Nice socks,” he said with a chuckle.

She raised her chin and her foot to look at what he meant. Oh, right. She almost forgot she put those on this morning. The black socks with silver UFO‘s all over them. She smiled as he continued to rub her foot and look at the socks she was wearing.

“Thanks. I got them as a gift from this guy I know,” she said, watching as he took the other shoe off, looked at both socks, and smiled.

“They are great socks. He sounds like a pretty great gift giver,” he said, rubbing both her feet.

“Oh. Well, let’s see, I’ve gotten- a keychain, a snowball cake with sparklers in it, books about leprechauns, mothmen, sprites, and other woodland creatures, a child’s medical kit, a shirt with an alien on it that says ‘They see me probin’, they hatin’ and these socks. So ... I guess he’s all right,” she said in a teasing tone.

“Wow ... with all those great gifts, I’m sure he didn’t give you just one pair of socks. That doesn’t sound like him,” he said as he began to pull her socks off her feet.

She smiled, loving this act of seduction. It was so them. So geeky and adorable. She missed this so much.

“No, it wasn’t just the one pair. It was actually four pairs of socks. There were these, of course. Then bright purple ones with alien faces, yellow ones with Bigfoot ...”

“Sasquatch,” he corrected her, running his hands up her legs over her pants.

“Right, Sasquatch,” she said, a smile dancing across her lips. He rested his chin on her knees, laying his hands over her thighs, locking his fingers. He looked up at her, his eyes twinkling.

“And the last pair? You said there were ... four?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She bit her lip, trying to hold her smile back, but she could not do it. “The last pair ... hmm. If I remember correctly, and I usually do, these last few days notwithstanding, they were green with a blue animal of some kind.”

“Some kind ...” he said, lifting his head and moving his hands to her waist, pulling her toward the edge of the bed.

“Mmm hmm. A water monster. Oh … the … ah ... Loch Ness monster. That’s right,” she breathed out, as he stroked her back.

“You know it was supposed to be Big Blue, Scully,” his voice muffled against her stomach. He kissed her and lifted his head.

“Potato, potahto. Seen one lake monster you’ve seen them all,” she smiled as she stroked his hair.

“I’ll remember that the next time you tell me how different shaped pastas have different tastes,” his tongue tasting her skin. She laughed, throwing her head back.

Years ago, they had a heated conversation over the phone about different types of pasta, when he was sent to the store to buy some for dinner. A discussion regarding when spaghetti crossed over and became goulash. Was it dependent on the type of pasta used? She insisted it was spaghetti as long as the noodles were long and it was not mixed together, making it taste different. He argued it was all the same, no matter if it was penne or elbow or if it was mixed together. She finally told him to shut up, buy whatever the hell he wanted, and just come home. He walked in the door, threw the pasta down, turned off the pot of water, grabbed her and kissed her hard. She wound up on her back on the table and dinner that night had been very late.

She looked at him as they shared that memory and they both smiled. He reached for the button on her pants and she clenched her stomach muscles. He looked at her as he opened them and then pulled the zipper down. He bent his head to kiss her and he groaned.

“Oh my God. The underwear matches the bra. What are you trying to do to me?” he asked, dropping his head into her lap.

She laughed again. The underwear certainly did match. Blue satin, white edging, and a white bow in the middle. She knew his weakness for fancy underwear with bows. His face and exuberance when he would be seeing them eventually, definitely factored into her purchasing decision.

“As much as you may believe I wore them for you, that is not entirely the case,” she said, threading her fingers in his hair, his breath warming where she wanted him to be with no boundaries in the way.

He snorted and she tugged his hair. He raised his head and looked at her. “I had no plans beyond the day spent with you. I didn’t plan on this, so don’t let your ego get too large,” she said, raising her eyebrow. “I like wearing this kind of underwear beneath my suits. Whether anyone sees them but me, it makes me feel sexy and powerful.”

He started pulling her pants down as she lifted, helping him out. Over her hips, down her thighs, then off her calves, before he tossed them behind him.

“I’m not sure you will fully appreciate what I’m about to say, and I may live to regret saying it, but you don’t need the fancy underwear to be sexy or powerful. All you have to do is show up, open your mouth, or raise that eyebrow,” he said as he started running his hands up her legs again, his hands on her bare skin.

She laughed and then stopped. As she felt his hands on her, she realized she had not shaved her legs in a couple of days. Usually she would not care and it was not as if she had always had freshly shaved legs when they were together. But, this was coming back, almost like a getting to know each other again. The sexy underwear she chose to wear, which she could admit to herself, was a little for him, the socks- and she did not remember to shave her legs? Such a rookie mistake.

“Mulder, wait,” she said, trying to stop him. He looked up, confusion showing on his face. He leaned back on his calves, and stared at her. “I just ... it’s ... I haven’t shaved my legs recently and I know it shouldn’t matter, but I ...”

He silenced her as he ran his hands up the backs of her calves and tilted his head to the side. He went back down and up again. He stopped at her knees and looked at her.

“It’s not as bad as Wisconsin, so I think we’re okay,” he said smiling and winking, as he moved his hands up her thighs.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, a giggle bursting through. “It snowed for almost a week when we were there! Did you want me to go out and chance freezing to death? For a razor? And besides, I remember you being quite scruffy as well.”

“Did I complain then? Did I say anything that would lead you to believe I was bothered by the hair … anywhere on your body?” he asked as he began to crawl up the bed, forcing her onto her back.

“Whoa ... anywhere on my body? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked as she pushed against his chest, his heart pounding under his shirt, halting their movements.

“Scully, you could be hairy as a Sasquatch or bald as a mole rat, and I wouldn’t care. If you think hairy legs would ever deter me from the chance to be inside you, you really don’t know me,” he said, pressing against her harder.

She laughed and then gasped as she leaned back onto the bed, his body covering her as he rested on his forearms. She moved her legs, opening herself to him. He settled between her legs, his worn denim softy rubbing against her bare legs, and they both moaned. He rocked into her and she gasped again.

“A Sasquatch? Really, Mulder?” she breathily asked, as she looped her arms around his neck.

“Huh ... here I thought you were going to find offense at the mole rat comment,” he said, lowering his head to kiss her neck.

“No. I’d much rather be bald than hairy,” she moaned as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. His head popped up and he looked in her eyes. She smiled and lifted an eyebrow.

“Is that right?” he asked, beginning to shift down her body.

He kissed between her breasts as he pushed them together, burying his face in between them. She laughed. When he did not take her bra off, she tapped his head. He looked up and she raised her eyebrows again.

“Not yet. I want to see something." He let go of her breasts and kissed his way down her body.

She closed her eyes, her hands roaming her body, the bed, his head. She began breathing hard as he got closer to where she wanted him.

His fingers slid under the waistband of her underwear and slipped them down a little at a time. Her body shook a little, anticipation building, knowing what he was going to find.

“Ah, Scully,” he said, finding her practically bare, before he slid her underwear all the way off.

The recent night in the hotel had been unexpected. She was not exactly prepared. She had made an appointment to get a bikini wax after that, just in case. Judging by his enthusiasm as he crawled back to her, he seemed to like it.

He kissed her thighs, slowly making his way back up to her center. He kissed and rubbed against her legs as he shifted around, his hands going under her ass to bring her closer to his face.

She throbbed, laying her feet on his back, wanting to feel his mouth on her. He did not keep her waiting long before he settled in and began kissing and licking her. Slow then fast. He sucked and licked just how she liked, knowing her so well, his eidetic memory a blessing.

He added his fingers and she cried out, gripping the sheets and pulling at her own hair. God, he was so good at that. So good at bringing her so close so fast. All these years later and still she was amazed at how quickly he could make her come.

“Mulder, oh God,” she cried out, her legs wrapped tight around his shoulders, her nails digging into her own thighs.

He sped up his fingers and sucked her clit into his mouth. She cried out, crashing over the edge, screaming his name. He kept lapping at her as she came down and relaxed her legs.

“Hmmm hmm,” she said, licking her lips. “Mulder, Jesus ... so good. So good.”

A final lick and he raised his head. He kissed his way back up her body. Stopping at her breasts again, sucking them through her bra, nibbling at her nipples. Back and forth, he laved them through the material.

She grabbed his ears and tugged. He raised his head and she let go of one ear and pointed to her mouth. He smiled and raised up, licking her chest, kissing her jaw before claiming her mouth.

She held onto his neck as his tongue rolled around in her mouth, stroking hers, as he ground his hips into hers. Still fully clothed, she felt the denim of his jeans against her bare skin. She shivered and as he rocked into her again, she felt a small orgasm roll through her.

“Jesus! Mulder, get your clothes off. I need you inside me,” she said, breaking their kiss and panting as he rocked into her one more time.

He pulled back from her and she scrambled around on the bed. He stood at the edge of the bed, pushing his shirt up and off, throwing it over his shoulder. She knelt on the bed, reached over and scratched her nails down his chest as he breathed her name.

She stopped at his waistband and opened his buttons, unzipped the zipper, and opened his pants. Reaching inside his boxers, she stroked his length and caressed the head. He hummed and leaned into her. She heard him swallow and then he put his hand on hers.

She looked up at him. His eyes were wide and dark. She loved him like this, aroused and happy. He stopped her hand and she stared at him questioningly.

He swallowed again and he stepped back. He shook his head and he looked at his feet. Oh, he still had his shoes on too. She climbed off the bed and knelt on the floor, untying his shoes and loosening the laces. He stepped out of them as she stood up.

She pushed his pants down over his ass, his hips, and then down his legs. He lifted his feet one at a time, as she bent down and pulled them off. She took off his socks too and stood up again.

They stood there still covered in one way each. He pulled his boxers down, standing nude before her. He was hard and she felt her insides ache. She wanted him inside her, wanted to remember again how he felt.

She looked at the bed and he smiled. He laid down and she straddled him. She rested at his waist, her hands on his chest.

“Wisconsin was a long time ago,” she said, looking down at him. “So many things we’ve done, Mulder. Cases, people we’ve met, places we’ve been. It was always just us, right? There was no Reggie? It was just us?”

She moved and slid down his length. They both sighed and then moaned. She waited and he put his hands on her waist. He ran them up her body, landing on the clasp of her bra, as she rose up then back down.

“Us, Scully. It’s always been you and me. Just us. No Reggie. You and me, then and now,” he breathed, popping open the clasp of her bra, and cupping her breasts.

“You and me,” she agreed, loving the feel of his hands on her breasts. He had built the anticipation perfectly. Her bra slid down her arms, before she threw it on the floor.

There had been no Reggie riding in the backseat. No Reggie in the crappy motels where they stayed. No Reggie sharing theories or worries over either of them. It was always just them. Her and him. Learning their way together. For twenty five years. Just them, never anyone else.

“The horned beast,” she breathed out, leaning down against his chest, her hips still moving.

He laughed, putting his hands on her thighs. “Ronnie Strickland.”

She laughed into his neck. “Arthur Dales. Florida.”

“Daryl Moots. Holman. Flying cows.”

“Flukemen.”

“Genies. An invisible man.”

They kept stating cases, times when they were on the road, just the two of them. Remembering places they had been, what they had done. They had never booked three flights, three hotel rooms. It was always them and no one else.

He flipped them and he began to drive into her. He whispered remembered moments of their lovemaking. In their old apartments, in hotel rooms, their office, running for their lives, the first time in this house, then every room in it as it had been christened. Against the wall, on the floor, bent over the couch, in the shower, the bathtub. His words created desire in her veins.

She whispered remembered conversations they had had. Things they had said, words of love and hope, one in five billion, touchstones, trusting only the other.

They both cried out, reaching completion together. He fell upon her and they held tight to one another, satisfied their memories were their own. No one had wiped their minds. They knew it had always been them. Trusting each other with their lives, then their hearts, and then with everything.

They lay together after, both sleepy, but happy. He held her and breathed against her neck. She sighed her contentment as his lips grazed her ear.

“I miss you,” he whispered.

She froze. He knew she was awake. He was taking a chance, letting her know, taking another step.

“I miss you, too,” she whispered back, pulling his hand up and holding it in her own.

She felt him nod against her head. He tightened his hold on her and shifted his legs, wrapping one over hers. His feet grazed her leg, then he settled it down.

“Hairy legs and all,” he whispered. She smiled and closed her eyes.

“I just wanted you to know, Scully. In case it wasn’t clear or I haven’t told you enough, I … I love you. And I miss you,” he said, and she could hear the sleep in his voice, but the underlying sadness as well.

There it was, just as she knew it would be. Physical before the emotional. It seemed to loosen their tongues better than any alcohol ever could. Adrenaline, their worry over each other in the past, then the oxytocin from a hand grasp, hug, kiss, or sex worked like a truth serum. It loosened the lid to get to what was desired on the inside.

She lay there quietly. Letting his words sink in, allowing herself the luxury of just feeling them. She knew he did not expect her to say it back. Knew he was not waiting to hear her words, or holding it against her when she stayed quiet.

It was not that she did not love him. God, no. She loved him so much she ached. Being without him was like living with a piece of her heart missing. Every day she was living a half life.

She had left, been the one to force their hand. But it had been because of his obsession consuming him, everything around him, and then their relationship. He needed to make amends, she needed to accept them, they needed to forgive and then move forward together. No more half life.

His breathing evened out and she knew he was asleep. She let her body relax into him before she knew she would need to climb out of their warm bed and head to her lonely one. She would not stay, no, she could not stay. Not yet. They were so close, but not quite.

She felt his body jerk a little while later and knew it was safe to get up. He had entered into deep sleep. She slipped out of his arms and out of their bed. She looked at him as he slept. She ached to stay, to wake up with him, but she knew it would be wrong. Not yet.

She knelt beside the bed, staring at his face. Watching him breathe. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

She found her clothes and gathered them up along with her shoes. She tiptoed out the door and down the stairs. She found her shirts, got dressed, and grabbed her jacket and other items from where she dropped them earlier. She opened and closed the door quietly. The porch stairs creaked as she walked down them, but she was safe. He would not follow her.

She drove away, tears in her eyes. She looked in the rear view mirror, expecting to see her heart on the porch, waving her back. She shook her head and stared ahead. So close. They were so close. She just needed to be patient.

_______

Mulder woke up a few hours later. He knew without reaching out, that she was gone. He knew she would leave, but it still hurt that she did. He rolled over and grabbed the pillow. Her pillow. It smelled like her again and it would have to suffice until she came back. Back with no plans to ever leave again. He would see to it. To make sure she knew he would not make anymore careless mistakes. He did not want this life he was living without her anymore.

He could feel they were close. So close to getting back to where they needed to be. He just needed to remain patient. Patient and vigilant.

He got up, used the bathroom, and took a shower. He got dressed and began to clean up his clothes from last night. He was searching for his shoes when he noticed it. His shoes had been set upright, paired together by the door. On top of each shoe, she had draped one of her UFO socks. He grinned, remembering how she always draped her socks over the tops of her shoes that same way in the past.

He used to tease her about it, how she planned ahead, right down to the socks. She always argued it meant she was better prepared than him and it would not hurt him to take a cue from her.

Well, he thought with a smile, as he left the shoes and socks there for the time being, it seemed she was telling him something. The time had come for him to finally listen. Really listen. He would take his cue from her and be prepared. He was more than ready for where they were headed.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #X Files Novel #The Lost Art Of Forehead Sweat #More Sexy Sexy Times #Remember how it ALL was #Its so close they are almost there #Look how much they have grown and changed #Season 11 Mulder especially is just the best #Watching them fall in love again is just... sigh

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ruleroflimbo-a · 4 years ago

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Destruction in Limbo || Discord

Events: After this discord Illyana decides to destroy the citadel in Limbo and asks Rictor to help her Date: a few days after Illyana returns from Limbo Involved: Illyana Rasputin and Julio Richter @rictorscales Mentioned: Donna Troy, a few others Trigger warnings: child abuse mention, suicide ideation, abuse mention Word count: 4,428

ILLYANA: Since her trip to Limbo with Donna and learning Belasco was back in the dimension Illyana had thought a lot about what to do next. If any of the rumors she'd heard were true she'd need to act soon to stop whatever her adoptive father was up to, though stopping him was easier said than done. She'd also had to return to the citadel during her trip with Donna, a place she hadn't been to since she was fourteen years old, a place most of her bad memories from her time in Limbo was connected to. Being there had brought back a lot of those memories and it wasn't something she wanted to ever relive again and the best way she could think of to try to prevent that and create some new memories there was by tearing the place down and building something else. It would also most definitely prevent Belasco from using the resources from the citadel for his plans.

Illyana could control and shape the landscape in Limbo however she wanted but she'd quickly learned that the citadel was different, if she was going to tear it down quickly she'd need help, she just hoped Ric would be open to going to Limbo with her. She wouldn't blame him if he said no considering what she'd done but as she was going with this time and he was getting to destroy something she hoped he'd say yes. Before going to ask Ric for his help she'd removed all the books from the library in the citadel, she couldn't destroy all those valuable resources. Once that was done she teleported to Ric.

"Hey... how would you like to destroy the citadel of a hell dimension?"

RICTOR: Something was different. Something had been different ever since he pulled Genosha out of the sea, ever since he used his powers to build something instead of tearing it down, and Rictor didn’t know if it was a good different or a bad one. He’d never liked change much, so he was naturally inclined to go with the latter, but… He wasn’t sure that was quite right. He didn’t feel the way he’d felt on that rooftop, with his toes hanging off the edge. He didn’t feel the way he’d felt in the cemetery after Rusty’s funeral, either. There was something building inside of him, and Rictor didn’t know what it was but he’d never been much good at building. He sighed, leaning back on the lumpy sofa Guido had brought into XFI months ago when they’d first started the goddamn thing and throwing a hand over his eyes.

He felt her before he saw her. Teleportation was alway preceded by a very specific kind of vibration, like the world was getting ready to split open and spit someone out. And with Shatterstar gone and Nightcrawler too much of a fucking X-Man to ever dip his toes in the gritty world of Madrox’s desperate attempts at noir, Rictor didn’t have to guess who was coming in. “Some people knock,” he said, as soon as her vibrations filled the room. “Not me, but some people. Polite people. You could try that, sometime. I could’ve been naked in here.”

But then she spoke, and Rictor removed his arm from his face to narrow his eyes at her. Limbo wasn’t a place he’d been itching to go back to, but… Destruction was familiar. Maybe if he destroyed enough things, he’d go back to feeling more like himself. There was something to be said, after all, about the devil you knew. “Sounds an awful lot like me doing you a favor,” he hummed, feigning disinterest. “What’s in it for me?”

ILLYANA: She rolled her eyes and reached her hand out, knocking on the nearest surface, "knock, knock." Though maybe she should stop just teleporting in places, or at least text beforehand because she really did not want to see Ric naked, she'd had to keep in mind next time she teleported to Ric's place. "I'll text you next time before teleporting" she shrugged.

"You get to destroy something and help delay whatever my adoptive father is planning" Illyana replied, she should have known Ric would respond like this to her request, maybe she should have thought more about an answer to it because she honestly didn't know what other than destroying something was in it for him. "Look, there's not really anything in it for you but... I need you to destroy the citadel in Limbo" she could do it herself but since it wasn't affected by her ability to shape Limbo to her will it would take a lot longer than it would if she had Ric's help. Ever since she'd gone back there with Donna every bad thing she'd gone through there came rushing back to her and she just wanted to get rid of it all. "It's where I lived when I was Belasco's apprentice, it's where I was turned into a demon" that was only a fraction of what she'd gone through there but she didn't want to get into all of it right now.

RICTOR: “Funny,” Rictor replied dryly as she knocked on the table, crossing his arms over his chest. He shifted at the promise, raising a shoulder and dropping it in a listless half-shrug. It was more than he’d expected from Illyana --- it wasn’t like she was raised in any kind of normal culture, after all. (Christ --- were any of them?) “Thanks.”

She continued, and Ric shifted his weight thoughtfully. “Destruction and daddy issues,” he hummed, considering. “You really nailed my brand here.” But then she went on, and Rictor’s expression softened. Despite everything that had happened between them --- the demon bullshit, the threats, the brief and unwilling trip to Limbo --- Illyana was his friend. And most days? Rictor didn’t really have a lot of those to spare. So he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before nodding his head. “Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll help you destroy your demonic citadel. But don’t get it twisted, all right? I’m doing this because Jean said I’m not allowed to shake shit up in Genosha and the cops are still pissed at me for the whole ‘crater in the middle of Mutant Town’ thing. I just want to let off some steam.”

ILLYANA: "I know, I'm hilarious, I'm thinking of becoming a stand up comedian" Illyana deadpanned, funny wasn't really her forte. "Sure" she shrugged, even now she still wasn't the best with social cues and all that, it wasn't exactly something she was taught in Limbo, demons didn't really follow them the way people on earth did.

"I did, that's why I thought I'd ask you" she replied, that and because Ric was one of her friends, she knew that even though he'd act resistant at first he'd most likely agree to help her in the end. "Whatever you say" if he wanted to pretend to only do it for those reasons Illyana was okay with that. She hoped after the citadel was gone she could build something better in its place, somewhere she didn't want to actively avoid because of the bad memories connected to it. She was grateful Ric agreed to help her make that happen, even if he said it was just to be able to destroy something. "Thank you" she told him, giving him a small smile before she opened a stepping disk to Limbo.

RICTOR: “I’d say ‘don’t quit your day job,’ but, well… Do you even have one?” As if Rictor could talk. Being coerced into joining a private detective agency because Madrox was worried he’d throw himself off a roof wasn’t so much a ‘career choice’ as an ‘intervention.’ But Illyana, he suspected, didn’t know that, and even if she did, Rictor wasn’t particularly good at keeping himself from sounding like a hypocrite every time he opened his mouth. He offered her a brief nod, letting the subject of knocking drop. It was unimportant, anyways.

“You sure you didn’t just ask me because you needed a favor?” It felt suspiciously like Madrox standing next to him on the edge of a roof and asking him to join X-Factor, like a decision made out of concern more than anything else, and Rictor’s first instinct was to kick against it. He’d never been good at letting people take care of him --- Cable had learned that one the hard way. “Don’t say it like you don’t believe me,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. His expression softened at her gratitude, but only faintly. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t recognize the change at all, but he suspected Illyana would. It was why he ducked his head before stepping through her portal, why he tried to keep his face hidden from her. He didn’t need her knowing he gave a shit, even if it was sort of obvious.

ILLYANA: "Not anymore" not since the siege and the founding of Genosha, and while she managed she should maybe get a job or something so she could get a new apartment, for now she slept in Limbo but it wasn't the ideal solution. "It's not exactly easy for me to get a job" she shrugged, if she was going to get a job it would have to be somewhere that didn't ask a lot of questions, somewhere she could get by with false information about things like her date of birth and so far she hadn't found anything.

"I asked you because this is important, you have the powers to do it and... and I trust you" Illyana replied, because she did trust him, there weren't many people she trusted but Ric had become one of them, and he was someone she'd come to care about too even if she might not admit it. She noticed that his expression softened, the change was faint but noticeable to her, she didn't mention it though, Ric would probably only deny it anyway. She followed him through the portal and into the dimension she knew so well by now. "We need to walk some distance, teleporting to the citadel is... not easy" last time she did that was with Donna and she had ended up in the last place she ever wanted to be.

JULIO: “Do what I did,” Rictor shrugged. “Get a friend to…” Desperately grasp at straws to keep you from tossing yourself off a roof. “...pull a few strings to hire you on. Madrox is an ass, but it’s not like I’ve got a lot of prospects outside of him.” Rictor’s situation might not be quite as complicated as Illyana’s, but the country was hardly kind to undocumented Mexican immigrants even when they weren’t mutants with no real high school diploma and a family of infamous Mexican gun runners. If not for Madrox, Ric had no doubt he’d be scrounging for cash.

Shifting, Ric pulled a face. The conversation was getting dangerously close to a territory he actively tried to avoid --- the one where he admitted to having feelings that weren’t ‘angry’ or ‘drunk.’ He lifted his shoulder and dropped it in a motion that was meant to be a shrug but looked more like a listless half-attempt at one. “My powers are pretty badass,” he deflected, less than smoothly. Illyana wouldn’t push. He was confident about that much, at least. Limbo was just as shitty as he remembered it, and his shoulders tensed a little. Logically, he knew Illyana wouldn’t leave him here again… but part of him was still expecting it all the same. “You didn’t tell me there’d be walking,” he complained, trying to focus on the conversation at hand instead of the scenery around them. “I want a refund.”

ILLYANA: "Maybe I'll get him to hire me so I can bother you and get paid for it" she teased "or maybe I'll open a magical taxi service" she joked. She had thought that she wanted to do something where she could get to use her magic for something good, she just wasn't sure what yet, though before she could even think more about something like that she had to deal with S'ym and Belasco.

Ric deflected and Illyana didn't push, she knew him well not to and she'd said what mattered, that she trusted him, that if he ever needed anything she would be there to help just like he was helping her now. She figured he already knew that though, like she knew he would help her with this when she asked, it was unspoken but maybe they both preferred it like that, everyone needed a reminder sometimes though. "Walking won't kill you Ric, though if it really is that awful I can call someone to fly us instead."

RICTOR: “Pretty sure he’s gone ghost, so good luck finding him,” Rictor hummed, feigning neutrality as if Madrox’s sudden departure didn’t ache in a way he hadn’t quite expected. People left. Ric had gotten used to that a long time ago. “There’s an idea. You’d either make a killing or wind up in jail. Or, hey, maybe both! The world’s your oyster.” Finding a job as a mutant wasn’t exactly easy, but maybe Illyana had it easier than some. Her mutation wasn’t physical in a way that was impossible to deny, after all.

The tender moment passed, and Rictor was happy for it. The last thing he wanted was to talk feelings in any given situation, but especially here. Limbo fucking sucked over all, no matter what Illyana said about it. His goal was to get in and out as quickly as possible, but… “Yeah, if you call one of those demons over here, I’m quaking it to bits. Those little shits freak me out. I’ll just walk.”

ILLYANA: "So if I find him he pretty much has to hire me?" Not that she was serious, she couldn't really see herself as a private investigator, and if things got too bad for her concerning money she could always ask Zatanna for help, though she'd only do that as a last resort as she didn't want to bother her. "Why would I end up in jail? Not that it's very easy to lock me up" the blonde shrugged, teleporters were a pain in the ass to catch, especially one who could teleport through more than just space, she could teleport through time as well as other dimensions.

"Gee, thanks" she said sarcastically, though maybe the comment did hurt a little. She tried not to take it personally because she knew it wasn't meant like that, but she was a demon as much as she was a mutant, sometimes she was sure she was more demon than anything else. Her demon form was hidden most of the time but it was still part of who she was. "Let's go" it fortunately wasn't that far of a walk, maybe twenty minutes or so.

RICTOR: “Pretty sure if you find him, he’ll say no out of spite,” Ric retorted, huffing a laugh. Madrox had always been difficult to pin down, hard to understand. That was probably why he and Rictor got along as well as they did. Ric didn’t try to understand him, and Madrox didn’t feel like he needed to make himself easy to swallow. It was a good system. “I usually end up in jail,” he shrugged. “Kinda figured it was a universal thing.”

Shrugging, Ric trudged along beside her, trying not to look around too much. His family was religious. It was funny to think of, considering their occupation, but Catholicism was so ingrained in Latino culture that he often thought they had never considered it much of a choice at all. His stepmother used to pray in the kitchen, seated at the table with a rosary in her hands. This wasn’t Hell. Illyana had told him that before, had seemed almost offended when he insinuated otherwise. This wasn’t Hell, but it felt like it. It looked like it. And Rictor wanted to get out just as soon as he could. After a while, shapes came into view. “That what we’re looking for?” He nodded towards what seemed to be a building, standing tall in the distance.

ILLYANA: "I don't think I fit as a private investigator anyway" Illyana shrugged, maybe she'd accept Zatanna's offer to do more work for her, going back to teaching mutants meant going to Genosha and she wasn't at that stage, not yet. "I usually disappear before I can get arrested" though there was probably a lot of times she would have ended up in jail if not for her teleportation powers.

Limbo looked like hell, it didn't usually look like this anymore, but because she had been gone for long periods of time it had reverted back to this, barren wastelands, red sky and barely any sign of life. "Y'know, it doesn't always look like this" she said as they walked towards the citadel "before I died it looked much more like a paradise than a hell dimension" hopefully after she'd stopped her adoptive father she could get Limbo back to that. "Yeah... yeah that's it" she sighed, coming back here a second time wasn't really any easier than the first time with Donna, at least this time she wouldn't need to enter the citadel.

RICTOR: “Neither do I,” Rictor admitted with a huff, shrugging his shoulders. In all honesty, this wasn’t the job he’d seen himself winding up with as a teenager, though that might have been due to the fact that a teenaged Julio Richter hadn’t pictured himself living to adulthood at all. Still, it paid the bills. It gave him something to do, a reason to get out of bed. And most days, that was all he could ask for. “Must be nice,” he said dryly, snorting lightly.

He listened to her speak as they walked, tried to picture this place as anything other than what it was. He’d never been particularly good at that. Seeing things for what they could be, looking on the bright side of things, it wasn’t in his nature. It wasn’t who he was. “I’ll take your word for it,” he muttered, because it was all he could do. Nodding when she confirmed his suspicion, he held out a hand experimentally in order to get a feel for the vibrations. On Earth, he knew exactly how close he needed to be to take something down. But here? The frequency was different. Rictor tilted his head to the side as he attuned himself to it, finding the right wavelength before dropping his hand back to his side. “I can take it out from here,” he said. “All I need is a green light from you.”

ILLYANA: "At least you're getting paid" Illyana pointed out, Zatanna had offered her a job but Illyana hadn't 100% accepted it yet, maybe she should, once this whole ordeal with Limbo and Belasco was dealt with. "It makes things easier at least" teleporting before she could get caught had saved her a lot of times, so had casting an illusion spell to trick the cops.

She knew it had to be hard to believe that this place could ever look like a paradise, but it could, and it had before she died. Her goal was to bring it back to that but until this was war against her adoptive father was over it wasn't high on her list of priorities. "It's a shame you can't see it like that, someone who likes nature as much as you..." she trailed off with a small sigh, it looked so dead now because of how long she'd been gone. On earth she had been dead for three years but in Limbo so much more time had passed. "You need to slow down a little" Illyana told him as she sat down with her legs crossed "there's a reason I need your help with this" she said as her eyes started glowing. The citadel had its own defenses that Illyana would need to lower before Ric could take it down, it was one of the reasons she'd asked him, she couldn't hold the defenses down and demolish the citadel. After a few moments she looked up at Ric "take it down."

RICTOR: “Not much,” he retorted with a snort. “Madrox writes a shit check. When he remembers he’s supposed to be paying us, anyway.” Other ‘teams’ like theirs didn’t get paid at all, he knew, but… X-Factor was a little different. None of them were really in it for the good of mankind. “Best I can do is open up canyons under the cops, and Summers always gets pissy when I do that. You know how that guy is. Stick up the ass.”

Nature had always made more sense to Rictor than people did. It was more forgiving, more long-lasting. It a plant died, you could regrow it. You could bring it back to life. When you buried it in the dirt, you got a garden instead of a graveyard, and for someone who’d been to as many funerals as Ric? That was a hell of a thing to see. He was quiet for a moment as Illyana spoke, pausing as he walked to hold a hand out over the ground. A sprout of green pushed its way up from the cracked soil, growing until it sprouted a sunflower at their knees. It was a show of trust --- other than Daisy, he hadn’t told anyone about this particular evolution of his abilities since they’d started shifting. “That’s the thing about nature,” he said quietly. “It’s resilient. Better than people are, at least.” Illyana took a seat, and Rictor rolled his eyes as she spoke. “Slowing down’s not really my style,” he murmured. Glancing down, he waited until she gave the word to hold out his hand again. The motion was for show, more than anything else. Rictor didn’t need to make hand motions to use his powers any more than he’d needed to use finger guns to shoot vibe blasts as a teenager, but… He’d always liked the style. The ground rumbled beneath their feet, the world groaning as it adjusted, and then…

The citadel fell in on itself, collapsed all at once. There was something there, and then there wasn’t. There was a structure, and then there was rubble. Rictor had been best at destruction since the start. It took seconds, not minutes, and then the world was still. “Bam,” he said flatly. “All done.”

ILLYANA: "I just borrow money from Zatanna, she always say no when I offer to pay her back" Illyana shrugged, she knew it was because Zatanna knew Illyana didn't really have the money to pay her back and the magician cared about her, Illy still didn't know why, she didn't deserve it, yet... Zatanna still cared about her and looked out for her. "Well, next time you get up to something where you need a quick get away, invite me" she did sometimes complain about being the transportation when on missions with the X-Men or New Mutants but she didn't really mind using it to help her friends get out of trouble.

Illyana watched as Ric held his hand out over the ground and as the sunflower sprouted from the ground. "I didn't know you could- how long have you been able to do this?" It was impressive, making something grow, something that was alive was something Illyana could do with magic but she'd struggled with it at first, it had taken her years to get to that point. Creating something instead of destroying something was much harder and much more impressive to Illyana. She closed her eyes and focused on the energy in Limbo, her connection to it and soon the dry, cracked ground was replaced with green grass and flowers. She could do a lot more but until this war was resolved there was little point to it.

"The citadel has defenses" she explained, lowering them wasn't easy and required all her focus but once they were down and she gave the go-ahead to Ric it didn't take long until the citadel was reduced to nothing more than rubble. Illyana got to her feet and looked at where it had stood just seconds ago, a place she'd lived in, a place filled with so much pain and grief and now... it was gone. She let out a shaky breath as the realization set in, the place she had most dreaded in Limbo was finally gone. "Thank you" she whispered with a shaky voice.

RICTOR: “Well, in that case, I’m gonna start borrowing money from her, too,” Rictor replied with a hum, flashing a grin. It was mostly just to fuck with Illyana… mostly. There was never a zero percent chance that he’d ‘borrow’ a little cash from someone at any given moment. Most of the X-Men had learned that a long time ago, and he was sure Yana knew it too. He shrugged at her offer, shaking his head. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll just wait to call you from the cell. Jailbreaks are kind of fun.” As if his heart wasn’t in his throat any time he found himself in the back of a police car. Rictor talked a big game, but he knew how bad things could go when you were a brown man with an officer’s cuffs around your wrists.

Looking down at the flower in the dirt, Ric shrugged. It was a simple demonstration, one without much effort and without much point. “Since I pulled Genosha out of the water,” he replied. “Don’t really know why, but… I’ve been told it’s not a bad thing.” Daisy, her hands on his wrists, telling him in gentle tones that he wasn’t broken. He still wasn’t sure he believed her. The field filled with more flowers, and Rictor felt a little less tense with the green sprouting. He’d always been better with life surrounding him.

It happened quickly, after that. The earth shook, the citadel fell, the world went quiet. Looking out into the ruins, Rictor took a deep breath and nodded. He thought of Guadalajara, of San Francisco, of the warehouse where Rusty had bled out on a wooden floor and the hospital where nurses had told them all of a tragedy they’d already known occured. He thought of all the places he’d turn to rubble if he could, of how grief hurt a little less when you could tear something to pieces. Closing his eyes for a moment, he turned away from the ruins and back to Illyana. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get the hell out of here.”

#c: ric #discord: destruction in Limbo

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fangzeronos · 5 years ago

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Young Justice Outsiders finale

Ok, guys. Here’s the finale wrap up for Young Justice Outsiders! Massive spoilers under the cut, so read at your own risk.

Episode 24: Into the Breach

Ok, so this picks up just before M’gann’s teams infiltrate the Orphanage from Ep 23 Terminus. The Outsiders, minus Static (who’s been with Black Lightning), and Geo-Force, who was with M’gann’s team, infiltrate Building 16, a props department with no surveillance. Vic’s powers come in hand to get rid of the illusion and find the Apokoliptan tech, leading Granny to show up after putting the Outsiders in the X-Pit’s Ghost Dimension.

Gar and Granny fight, and since when can Gar turn into a Ma’ale’fak? We haven’t seen one of those since M’comm tried to fight M’gann back early on in the season. I know he can turn into things from other planets, like that weird bird thing from Rann, but this was new. I really enjoyed the fight, even yelling “GAR GET YOUR ASS UP!” several times.

Vic, while all this was going on and they were being tortured, worked his technomagic on Overlord and kicked it’s ass, breaking Granny’s hold on the Ghost Dimension and causing them to win the fight. After he and Beetle destroyed the tech he’d found earlier, he boom tubed to the Orphanage and found Violet and Granny, whose two selves (Granny Goodness and her “avatar” Gretchen Goode) fused back together. He blasted the control goggles off of Halo’s head, and y’all this is where it got good!

MY GIRL WENT SUPER SAIYAN! All of her auras, lookin’ like motherfucking Rainbow Brite before laying a hurt on Granny’s candy ass. She cleansed the Anti-Life Equation, freeing her friends before she, Vic, Superman, and Captain Atom blew up the device on the Orphanage. The reunion with Brion was sweet and I’m glad they’re together again, even though I know something bad is about to happen later on.

Connor and M’gann, however, aren’t so kosher. He’s still dealing with her hiding the Anti-Light from him, and who knows how they’re going to end up. I know a lot of people hate SuperMartian as a ship, but we already lost Spitfire and BluePulse isn’t going to happen, so can we please leave at least one ship intact?

Vic officially joined the Outsiders too! Cyborg is now officially born!

Episode 25: Overwhelmed

Ho, boy. Let’s start with the easy and get to the emotional stuff, because that’s where the meat of the episode is.

Connor and Forager go to Geranium City, a city created and inhabited by Genomorphs, the same ones that were under Cadmus’ control back in the early days. Forager’s trying to find his place on Earth since Mantis was arrested at the end of the last episode for helping Granny Goodness, and he’s torn between returning to his home world or staying on Earth. He and Connor have work to do regarding both of them coming to the light, so to speak.

Metron returned long enough to basically kidnap Vic and Violet, and unfortunately little Lian since she was in Violet’s arms at the time. Turns out, since they’re both “children” of MotherBox and FatherBox technology, they’re technically Metron’s grandchildren, which is something I never thought I’d hear. He warns them that they may be the key to stopping Darkseid’s plans if they don’t die in the process.

Gregor Markov is back. He’s with Brion and Tara in Beverly Hills, meeting his siblings in secret. The first time all of them have been together in years. Tara, however, has other plans and tells Deathstroke Gregor’s out of the country, allowing them to put their plan into action in Markovia, allowing their uncle, Baron Bedlam, to stage a coup and take over the country. It’s going to be interesting to see how they pull this off.

And now the emotional stuff. Artemis. After coming home and seeing Will had made dinner and set up candles and shit, the two talk before kissing. She breaks the kiss and apologizes, running off to her room and grabbing the picture of her and Wally and apologizing to it. She called Zatanna and meets with her, M’gann, and Rocket under the willow tree they met Dr. Fate under early on in the season. Zatanna casts some magic (or so we think) and Artemis goes into Limbo, seeing Wally.

She’s only got until sunrise, so she imagines their house, they’re engaged, she’s pregnant, and then ends up with a nameless baby. She knows it’s fake, because the tv in the mindscape has Zatanna saying she’s going to cast a spell to “raise the sun”, and then it turns to an episode of “Hello, Megan!” which should have been a clue as to what the hell was going on.

Wally tells her its time to wake up, step through the door and find someone to love again, saying she deserved a chance. “I already had my chance” fucking hurt. She walks through the door (all that’s left of the house after everything faded from around them) and comes back under the willow, and she walks off with the girls.

Rocket questions what happened, and Zatanna admits she cast a spell, but it was all M’gann’s doing. She created a mindscape in Artemis’ head that let her get the closure she needed to be able to move on after two years. The day Artemis finds out that her best friends did that to her, I can very easily see it blowing up in M’gann and Zatanna’s faces and Artemis either threatening her friends or just outright cutting them out of her life.

Violet got home with Lian who was sound asleep, and she tells Will it was “an average night” before going to lay Lian down. Artemis arrived a minute later, her and Will talking about the kiss and what happened, but they both agree it was wrong and felt wrong the moment it happened. They’re still in-laws, after all.

Side note: Can you please bring Wally back already? The Goode Goggles hallucination for Garfield in ep 12, Dick’s fever dream in ep 23, and now a fake limbo by M’gann in ep 25, I am tired of being teased about my boy. Bring him back or stop fucking with our emotions, you bastards. Seriously!

Episode 26: Nevermore

Other than sharing its name with my favorite Teen Titans episode, let’s dive into the big finish!

Three teams lead the charge into Markovia to deal with Baron Bedlam. Tara, Garfield, Victor, and Brion are one squad, M’gann leading El Dorado, Blue Beetle, Traci 13, Static, Wonder Girl, and a couple of others are a second, and Connor, Artemis, Dick, Forager, and Violet are the last. Connor’s squad faces off with Bedlam who takes off running, Count Vertigo coming in to keep the squad down.

Bedlam runs right into Gar’s team, and he’s confronted by his niece and nephew. Brion knocks him out of the window after Bedlam backhands Tara, and the two fight in the courtyard where it gets publicly broadcast. The fight goes either way, but Brion finally manages to get the upper hand on his uncle. Despite everyone telling him not to, Brion executes his uncle on international television! We find out later it’s the Ambassador using a low-level psychic ability to influence Brion’s actions, but the damage is done. Brion is now king of Markovia, estranged from his sister and broken up with Violet who is horrified at his actions. We see later the Ambassador is now a member of the Light, controlling Brion for a puppet government, along with Dr. Jace back in the picture looking happy to have her “Son” back. I honestly fear that Brion is going to be a season 4 antagonist.

I’m so glad to see that Tara’s not going to end up betraying everyone to Deathstroke and we’re not getting Judas Contract again. IT’s about time to do something new with her character, and where she is now is a good place to give her a new direction.

Nice to see Luthor getting what he deserves. Connor outing himself as a clone created by Luthor was a nice touch, and it’s good that Troia might be getting the big chair.

I’m glad SuperMartian is going to stay together. At least two of my ships continue to sail. I was so worried they were going to split for good at the end of Ep 24, and I’m happy to see them going to last.

Dick outing everything they did to the Team and the League was a nice way to end it. Everyone coming back together, and Black Lightning getting the League chair was great. Dude has had a shit run the entire season and it’s good to see him get a win.

A FUCKING LEGION OF SUPERHEROES RING IN THE END SHOT?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!? Are we getting the Legion in season 4?! That would be so crash!! We almost got Slobo! And Lobo showing up and squashing his clone made from his severed finger was goddamn hilarious.

Overall, this was a great season. There were some slow parts, a few things that could have been expanded on and shortened, but all in all I loved it from the word go. I’m glad we got to see a handful of “one-off” characters in Spoiler, Arrowette, and Orphan, and I hope to see them get more screentime in Season 4. Loved all the new characters, Cyborg was great, Halo was my all time favorite, loved Forager, and up until the end of Ep 26, I enjoyed Brion.

Hats off the all of the voice actors this season, man. Stephanie Lemlin did so good as Artemis still struggling with Wally’s disappearance, and every time she talks about him, you feel the weight and emotion behind each word. Zehra Fazal, if you guys follow my twitter, you know how I feel about this woman. She voiced like a dozen characters, and she did such a damn good job in each scene she was in, and you felt the weight she was carrying trying to discover who and what she was. Zeno Robinson had some big shoes to fill as Cyborg, but MY GOD did the due kill it! From either of the spectrum, Zeno quickly rose up in the ranks of my favorite VA’s.

I’m sad to see the season end, but let’s look forward to Season 4!!

#Young Justice Outsiders #Young Justice Outsiders Spoilers

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artificialqueens · 8 years ago

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party chapter ten - shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - how the fuck did we make it to ten chapters y'all… I’m shook.

Hope you enjoy this, anyhow! <33

Alaska could almost categorise the room full of people according to how they looked – the sallow skin and hooded lids of the alcoholics, the drawn faces and manic eyes of the drug abusers, the nervous glances and shuffling of the first-time rehab attendees, and the disappointed glances and blushing skin of the accompanying family members. It was a relief that Sharon didn’t appear to fit in with any of these people. They looked sick and sad and beyond help. She just looked tired and thin. A little bored, too. It had been almost two hours and her patience seemed to be running out.

“Two more minutes,” She leaned over and whispered in Sharon’s ear. “Then we can get the fuck out.”

Sharon hadn’t spoken to Alaska much since they’d been at Sharon’s home. It wasn’t like Alaska had any expectations on what it would be like to stay with her, but she didn’t expect the strange sensation of being stuck in a limbo. Sharon slept a lot. Alaska would do laundry and organise her drag just to pass some time. Sharon would grumble about the detoxification process. Alaska would crack a joke about Detox, and they’d laugh. Sharon would have peculiar dreams and wake up sweating, but refuse point-blank to talk about them. Alaska would watch TV, her eyes flitting from the screen to the closed bedroom door in case Sharon woke up.

She’d been told already that Sharon wouldn’t display any physical symptoms of withdrawal, but there would be fun little quirks like irritability, agitation, nightmares and possibly depression. A few times Alaska wondered why she’d agreed to do this, to stay with Sharon, but in the rare moments when she talked and cracked jokes with her, those thoughts left her mind. The older queens seemed to be doing her best to control her foul moods and hide her weak moments, even if she was unsuccessful. It was the thought that counted.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Sharon murmured back, her voice low. “I’m about to lose my fucking mind. The amount of self-control I’m using right now is terrifying.”

Alaska snorted appreciatively. “Oh yeah?”

“As in, this place is making me want to do drugs more than I did before I walked in the door.” She joked, her eyebrows knitting together.

Sharon had hated every single activity they’d had to do. First was group sharing; Alaska had an inkling that Sharon wouldn’t bother to censor herself for the sake of the rehab therapists or the patients, and she was entirely correct. When asked to introduce herself, she said, “I may not look like a Sharon but that’s how most people know me. I’m here because I fucked up and did more coke then I intended to.” Alaska had smacked her face into her palm, not missing the raised eyebrows that had been sent the blonde’s way. Sharon didn’t seem to care.

Next was one on one therapy. Whilst Sharon was doing her best not to be rude, to her credit, her old bluntness and unfiltered speech ran amok throughout, which appeared to make the therapist very uncomfortable.

“Is there a reason you decided to take drugs?”

“Yeah. They’re pretty fun.”

“Was it a suicide attempt?”

“No.”

“Was the overdose on purpose?”

“Nope.”

“Were you perhaps crying for help?”

“I just wanted to have a good time.”

“Are you incapable of having a good time without drugs?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have a drug history?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about that.”

“I’ve used drugs before.”

“For how long?”

“Since I was a teenager. I worked in bars.”

“Was your life difficult?”

“A little.”

“Were drugs a coping method?”

“No, they were just for fun.”

Alaska had to fight back giggles during their exchange, which probably didn’t help. The second they left the room, Sharon burst into laughter and had to clutch the wall, gasping for breath as Alaska cackled along with her. They both started to complain through their laughter about how it seemed like a virtually useless method of healing, even though they knew it helped some. Sharon clearly had enjoyed antagonising the therapist.

The final one was team-building and group work, having to coordinate with the other patients to solve puzzles and problems that they were given. Sharon had spent the whole time sending withering looks in Alaska’s direction every time someone annoyed her, communicating through a series of forced smiles, cocked eyebrows and long sighs. To their relief, the rehab session was coming to a close, and they were arranged in a circle – like fucking preschoolers, Sharon had said – whilst their group efforts were being evaluated.

“You’re dismissed, we will see you all again at the next meeting.”

Sharon practically sprang from her seat, the most active Alaska had seen her in days, and shot out of the door at a speed significantly greater than that of the rest of the attendees. Some slunk away to their rooms in the facility, others filed through the exit on their way home, and Sharon was out of the door like a bullet fired from a gun.

“Fucking hell.” She swore, releasing a deep breath out through her lips as if she were smoking a cigarette. “Alaska, how much do you care about my wellbeing?”

Alaska frowned. “Way too fucking much, why?”

She pulled a face. “Please don’t make me go to this shit again on Thursday. Michelle doesn’t have to know.” Alaska started to laugh. “I was gonna lecture you about taking care of yourself, but I completely understand your thinking.”

“See!” Sharon cackled, pointing. “Of course I wanna recover! Just not by visiting that Westborough Baptist Addicts bullshit twice a week. We can do better than that at home.”

Alaska’s breath hitched at that – hearing the words we and home in the same sentence. It felt familiar. It felt right. She stopped herself before she could reminisce about the days where they did live in a home together. Even if she had promised that someday, somehow, she would make things work between them, they did need some time. Sharon wasn’t as stable as she seemed. It wasn’t like she was going to go out and find as much blow as she could, or drink herself into a state, but the fact remained that she was weakened from the ordeal and needed time to strengthen again. The last thing she needed was the extra stress of love in the mix; even if she was aware of it and had admitted to feeling the same way herself. They just needed time.

“You okay?” Sharon asked, her face creased in concern as they walked. Alaska snapped out of her funk and nodded.

“Sorry, yeah. It should be me asking you that.”

Sharon snorted. “Please. You just look deep in thought, that’s all. I know you and I know you don’t think because your brain was rotted away by makeup and hairspray inhalation through years of being a drag queen. Something up?”

Alaska smiled at that. “Not particularly. It’s just weird, you know? This whole fucked-up situation. But I have to admit you do seem kinda better, after that shit. Maybe you should carry on going to that place after all.”

Sharon shook her head violently, a grin on her face. “No way! Never. I guess I am talking more, you’re right about that. If I’m honest, it’s probably because I wanted to die so much whilst I was in there that my only distraction was to talk to you. I forgot how much fun properly talking to you is. I need to do it more often.”

Her heart fluttered. “I know you do. I might only respond with one word texts but you never answer your goddamn phone!”

Sharon lightly slapped her arm. “Incompatible. You’re a phone talker and I’m a text person. This is why we broke up.”

Any other time, Alaska might have looked away, but the words reminded her of something Sharon had said earlier, and she cracked up upon hearing them.

“When they asked about who had accompanied you, and you said ‘My ex boyfriend!’…Girl. Did you see their faces?”

Sharon grinned a second time. “Wasn’t it hilarious? I’ve never seen anyone look so awkward!”

“Anyway,” Alaska continued, resting her face on her fist as she pretended to think. “Should I let you off from Thursday’s session… should I talk to Michelle… hmm…”

“I’ll cook tonight if you don’t make me go. Fuck, I feel like a kid asking for permission to do something. Considering I never asked for permission as a kid, this is a weird feeling.” Sharon begged, laughing at the end of her ramble.

“For the next two weeks.”

“Five days?”

“One week. Final offer.”

“Deal. I’ll pay for takeout too.”

Alaska nodded. “Damn right you will. Hey, we’re here.”

Sharon pushed the key into the door, fumbling a little from the cold. As she began to busy herself with tidying round, muttering apologies for letting Alaska do it when she volunteered, Alaska took the time to read through the messages she’d been sent, flopping down on the couch.

Willam: we didn’t send this to sharon just in case, have you guys been online? There’s some shit

Alaska: of course there is. I haven’t looked yet, dreading it

Courtney: some of it’s nice

Willam: mixed responses really

Willam: some hate, some love, lots of “IS SHARON DEAD” and “ARE SHALASKA TOGETHER AGAIN”

Alaska: fucking shalaska

Alaska: the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard

Courtney: the couple or the name

Alaska: duh, the couple

Alaska: kidding. The name

Willam: i think we’re too old to get why the kids do this kinda shit. I think court and i take the cake with witney tho.

Courtney: AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE- Bianca del rio.

Willam: don’t even start. I heard they call you two bitney.

Alaska: how original

“There’s some shit online?” Sharon said suddenly. Alaska started, her heart pounding as Sharon somehow managed to creep behind her without her notice. Placing a hand on her heaving chest, she shoved Sharon as she dropped down onto the couch next to Alaska.

“Hmm…” Sharon hummed, as Alaska let her scroll through Courtney and Willam’s texts. “Hate, love, asking if I’m dead and asking if we’re together. Ooh, I wanna go on twitter. My phone’s in my pocket, let’s use yours.”

Alaska giggled uncertainly, half-amused, half-worried. “I don’t trust you with twitter. Were you planning on tweeting?”

“Maybe.” The mischievous glint in Sharon’s eyes gave her away. “Just something dumb like ‘to all the responses: fuck you, thank you, no, maybe.’”

“For fuck’s sake.” Alaska chuckled. “No, I’m not letting you on mine. You’re a terrible person and I do not trust you in the slightest.”

Before Alaska could say anything more, Sharon had opened up twitter on her phone and was scrolling through it. Her eyebrows shot upwards and she let out something like a shocked cough mixed with a laugh.

“Wo-o-ow…” She murmured. “This is… something.”

Alaska cringed. “How bad is it?”

“If the Hiroshima bomb and 9/11 hit twitter at the same time, it looks a little like that.” She admitted.

“Sharon!” Alaska chastised her. “You can’t say that!”

Sharon coughed. “Just did. Seriously, take a look.”

She began to read a few of them, switching between tweets sent to Michelle, Alaska, Sharon herself and even the official Drag Race account.

“Sharon Needles finally took it too far, such a shame… aw, that’s a nice one. She deserved what she got… lovely. Alaska please tell us sharon is doing ok. I’m convinced sharon is dead, no one is talking about her. You can so tell lasky still loves sharon in her tweets. Agreed! I don’t know why they don’t get back together. Unless sharon’s dead.”

Sharon coughed again. “Amongst others. Most of them are along those lines.”

Alaska quivered; whether it was with rage or nervousness or relief she didn’t know. She was thankful that a large number of them were concerned, sending well wishes and hoping that Sharon was okay and would quickly recover. But too many of them were hateful – even one was too many. She didn’t know if it was better or worse, but the amount of tweets speculating about the two of them made her feel some type of way too. Of course she still loved Sharon. Sharon still loved her. It just wasn’t that easy.

“Oh shit, I just forgot that we haven’t told them if you’re alive or not. No wonder they all think you’re dead.” Alaska commented, feeling wan and exhausted. The last thing she wanted was to deal with social media bullshit.

“I’ll tell them.” Sharon said, resting her head on Alaska’s shoulder as she saw the look of turmoil on her face.

Sharon Needles - @SHARON_NEEDLES - Jan. 6th

If you’re already dead you can’t die again .. dead girls never do blow ..

Sharon Needles - @SHARON_NEEDLES – Jan. 6th

Please don’t harass my friends and family about me . They don’t need any more hassle on my behalf than they’ve already had ..

Sharon Needles - @SHARON_NEEDLES – Jan. 6th

And no I’m not alone . There is someone here with me and I am safe . Thanks for the love .. cunt wait to be on stage again

Sharon paused suddenly. “Thank you. I’ve been meaning to say that.”

“Huh?” Alaska asked.

“I know I haven’t been the best person to be sharing a house with – I never really was – but especially these days. I’ve been living in my own head, just letting you get on with doing the shit that I should be doing, and it’s kinda unfair. You should be out there doing gigs, you have hundreds of thousands of fans who want to see you doing what you do best, and rightly so… but you’re here. With me. Stuck in this house, watching TV and cleaning up all my shit whilst I lounge about feeling like shit.”

Alaska swallowed, her cheeks heating up. “Think nothing of it. It feels like old days.”

Sharon shook her head. “I was a terrible boyfriend.”

“You were great.” Alaska corrected her. “The only cleaning I had to do was picking up beer cans. You did the rest.”

Sharon smiled weakly. “I guess you’re right. But you should be out there screaming about anus and pussy and nails and instead you’re with me. I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”

“You didn’t drag me into it.” Alaska said. “I dived headfirst when I saw you like that. It was scary, Noodles. You were shivering, boiling hot, and completely erratic. I never want to see you like that again.”

Sharon looked down, ashamed, as Alaska’s eyes stung with tears. She had done her best not to think of what Sharon had been like before she passed out, only focusing on the fact that she was alive. Moments later, she felt Sharon’s hand grab at her own, and she clung on tight as she spoke.

“You said some horrible things, too… so horrible. It wasn’t you. You were like a different person.”

Sharon’s eyes glistened. “W-What was I saying…?” She asked uncertainly. “I’m almost afraid that I don’t want to know… I have no recollection whatsoever.”

Alaska tried to laugh, but the sound that came out was mirthless. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember. It was awful, it really was.”

She coughed. “You said that… you said that I didn’t give two fucks about you. That people who care about you should try and help you instead of making jokes about you. That people who say they love you don’t really care what you do to yourself until it hurts us.”

Sharon’s grip on Alaska’s hand went slack, just for a second. The tears she had been fighting so hard to keep back broke forth, flooding silently down her cheeks. A pregnant pause went by, neither of the queens sure of what to say, before Sharon took hold of Alaska’s hand once again and buried her face into the younger queen’s shoulder.

“Why do you…” She started, tongue-tied. “How did…”

Alaska rested her head on top of Sharon’s, her own cheeks growing damp from tears. With her thumb, she gently rubbed circles into Sharon’s hand, not forcing the blonde to speak nor interrupting her.

“Why are you here? I was so awful to you. You should be slandering my name out there, condemning me for taking drugs and saying horrible things to you. Why are you here?”

Her voice cracked, wobbling and pitching as she tried to speak through her tears. Not even needing to think about it, Alaska wrapped her arms around Sharon and pulled her close, holding onto her as though it were the very last time she would. Something told her, however, that it definitely wouldn’t be.

“Because I’m stupid and I love you. I told you so in the hospital.” Alaska murmured.

“It’s been all I’ve thought about.” Sharon admitted. “You said that we could make it work, we could try. I wish it was that easy.”

Alaska nodded. “Aren’t we just the dumbest pair ever? You admitted to me that you love me, I got mad about it, then realized I love you and now we’re just… Here. Doing nothing about it.”

“I think a few… less than helpful obstacles got in the way of us. Mainly the fact that I’m a fucking mess.” Sharon pulled herself upright and laughed. Alaska noticed with a pang in her chest that their hands were still entwined.

“At this point I don’t even know what we’re doing. Feels like we’re gonna be stuck like this forever. So fucking close and yet nothing. I love you and you love me and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.”

“Fuck it.” Sharon whispered.

In an instant, Sharon closed the gap between them and a pair of warm, soft lips were pressing against Alaska’s. She relaxed against them, kissing back without bothering to even think about what was happening. Her hands threaded through Sharon’s blonde hair as she pulled her even closer, reclining backwards on the couch with the older queen on top of her.

Finally, she thought numbly. The familiar scent of Sharon; the clichéd cigarettes and beer and boyish musk that hung around her, it all felt like home. It felt like travelling back in time to a boxy apartment in downtown Pittsburgh and kissing because it was the only thing they knew how to do. It felt like coming home and going on vacation and merging their very souls with the stars that were shining up above, unseen in the evening sky. It felt like fire and ice and passion and power. Most importantly, it felt safe. Like home. Like love. Like the first signs of a frosty winter thawing for a warmer, softer spring.

They broke apart for air, their chests heaving as they just stared at one another, pupils blown with lust, lips swollen and red. Alaska watched Sharon, the way that her tongue darted out and wetted her lips, the way that her blonde hair was dishevelled from Alaska’s touch, the way that her skin had flushed red. They had spent time apart, years of wondering and thinking and regretting, but Sharon still kissed like she had the very first time. Sharon still kissed like that drag queen who did weird drag in a shitty downtown bar and had Alaska enthralled. Sharon still kissed like a queen who was entirely jealous of Alaska’s fame and completely enamoured with her look.

Alaska was the one to connect their lips this time, lifting her shoulders up from the couch to reach Sharon before feeling herself getting pushed down again, the weight of Sharon on top of her pinning her down. It was less gentle this time; instead of communicating all of the forgotten words, the tentative whispers that they couldn’t find the words to articulate, it made up for lost time. It was needy and insistent – Sharon’s teeth dragged against her bottom lip as she kissed with bruising force. It compensated for so many years apart, four years of not being able to touch her and kiss her the way she wanted to. Years of pent-up emotions and feelings and love and hate poured out through that kiss, a thousand unsaid I love yous and I miss yous finally breaking free.

“Fuck the articles online,” Sharon breathed. “Fuck the people saying we were better apart.”

“Maybe we were,” Alaska panted back. “But why should we care?”

“They don’t have to know yet,” The older queen decided. “No one does. Michelle, Willam, Courtney, Jinkx, the fans.”

“Agreed,” Alaska said breathlessly. “Keeping it a secret is our fucking prerogative. I’ve waited too long for this.”

“You’re telling me?”

Things had changed. They were older; wiser. Both had bigger lips than they had before, two albums, different lives. Alaska didn’t see the point in waiting. They were only getting older.

“We can take this slow.” Sharon said finally, shifting her position so she was next to Alaska rather than on top of her. Almost instinctively, Alaska leant against her, smiling when Sharon’s arm snaked around her. “We don’t have to jump into this and call it a relationship and tell the whole world. But I love you and I want to kiss you and I don’t want to hold back.”

Alaska’s heart skipped a beat, and then another. She wanted to cry and scream and hug Sharon and kiss her all over again. Her mind was entirely addled and she didn’t mind in the slightest.

“I like that. I like that a lot.”

Sharon grinned. “So articulate. So eloquently worded.”

“I will end this.” Alaska threatened, giggling. “Don’t try me, Noodles.”

Sharon laughed and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You would never. I know you love me. Even with all these needles in my face.”

She prodded at her face, pretending to model as though she were posing for a photograph. Alaska snorted.

“Of course, Miss Lepore.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Sharon joked, her hand hovering over her chest.

“You know it.” Alaska whispered, and leaned forward a third time to kiss her.

#purecamp #shalaska #party #Sharon Needles #alaska thunderfuck #willam belli #courtney act #rpdr fanfiction #submission #party by purecamp

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dememarquette · 8 years ago

Text

Ashwater Visit

"I have never once in my life heard of toll booths on inter-planar travel being a thing."

Believe me- I would be the first to know. It just sounds like an innovation of forth. The guy running it shrugged his shoulders, his club-like fingers guarding the button that'd permit me through. A formality, I'm positive. The thick, cracked magicked wall didn't exactly have a drawbridge he'd be the gatekeeper of. We existed in a dark expanse, outside of the imagination as much as the underside of a map. "'ey, that's how it goes. This place is a hot spot." He said, bored. "What do you expect?" I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. This moment had been fruition for months. One that had brought me to the ends of the earth, down below, and back again. Dead end after dead end, false lead after false lead. But finally- FINALLY- I had finally caught onto a fleeting hint of Adria's wherabouts and raced to the appropriate address, only to be re-routed to this guy like a call made in the 80's. He went on. "Nice suburbs, good neighborhood, diverse people- you ain' close to being the only one trying to get through right now." "Yeah yeah yeah, I read the brochure." His comment made me vaguely aware of other people in the mystical plane we both occupied, but obviously they were behind me in line. "But why is it hot right now? It's- it's not Limbo is it?" Recent events would make it probable. But no. He looks at me like I'm stupid. Then- lost, with a smidgen of pity wedged in there for sarcastic effect. "Where have you been?" "Busy." I snap, short. "You know what, I don't care where it is- just let me pay." (If Adria saw the receipt, I'd never live it down.) - - - Ashwater 4 PM, Tuesday They both flinched when her transponder beeped. Business calls. He folded his hand. 'Damn.' He had a good draw, too. Although they were just playing for lunch- he was looking forward to it. Recently, this is how they lived. It was a process of sitting around, killing time while waiting for an inevitable call that something weird was going on, coupled with orders to investigate. Around the third or forth month of this, the priest decided to cut time by sticking close. It got him to the scene ASAP, and he was prepped to deal with the bizarre antics that'd become their evening before the cameras were rolling. (Although he wouldn't admit it out loud- the extra benefit of running into chaos with the cops instead was that they were a lot more enjoyable than his personal film crew anyways.) Both listened up close as the pager crackled to life: "Reports of smoke near Ashwater Elementary. Suspected arson. Repeat: Ashwater Elementary, suspected arson." "A fire?" Demetrius gaped, light brightening his eyes like Christmas morning. "Just a fire?" Okay so a fire outside the schoolhouse was kind of bad. Children-on-fire bad. Possibly dangerous- who knows, but with how batshit things have been lately, it was so refreshing to hear of a normal case of arson. Just imagine it- vandalism, car theft, or public disturbance! He could cry! "Don't sound too excited," Adria said, buckling in her pistol. "You never know what it could actually be." He spun around to launch himself out of the chair he had long since claimed in their office. Interest in the cards was abandoned when Adria set down her royal family. "LALALA- I didn't hear that~" This was his free pass to go do whatever the Hell he wanted. A day off while the cops are taking care of NORMAL emergencies. Julia couldn't say anything! "You'll have to tell me about it later. Have fun, officer!" She grunted from the back of her throat. - - - I stepped out. Flames from my entrance lit on the decrepit, decayed grey wood with an ease that suggested even the termites started to look for better options. This entire building was a dump. Boarded windows, busted glass, and a wallpaper I could swear I've seen in those hotels you rent by the hour. ...Which makes sense, considering the amount of beds in here for no apparent purpose. SHIT. They're about to catch too- no! I try to stomp out the flames before it gets that far. One quick round of Dance Dance Revolution, and they're pretty fizzled but the black smog is everywhere. I'd open a window but none of them seem to be in order. Even the door is boarded up from the outside. An outdated precaution- I barely had to ram into it before the wood splintered into pieces. I stumbled out of the shack, hacking the ash out of my lungs. Cutesy neighborhood, he said. 'WHERE?!' I'm in the middle of the goddamn woods! Several other warehouses surround me, but they look like they're suffering the same fate. Locked up, vandalized, and abandoned. I can't help but to notice the atrocious grammar on the Latin graffiti- a sin in of itself. All enclosed by a fence that I began to follow. It was the best lead I had, anyways. The further along I went, the more transversed the path began to appear. Then- there, through the trees. The first signs of recent civilization. It happens to be a huge, American flag waving in the air. I stop in my tracks, completely deadpan. She's been hiding in the states? UGH. Don't tell me I had to pay a fucking toll when I could have taken Uber! "FREEZE!" My nerves jolt. Stunned- familiar as ever, as if it was my conscious itself barking at me. I pivot around on my heel, graced with a face that's only been popping up in unforgiving Facebook Memories. Adria. Alive as ever. The outfit is 'interesting,' but excusable as I hadn't been able to take her shopping in awhile for reasons her tombstone could elaborate on. My heart flushed, energized. I can't fucking believe it- after all this time. "A-Adria..?!" I was sort of expecting a cliche. Her to run into my arms, or us to embrace. She'd be crying like the huge sap she is, and I'd be rolling my eyes. She'd apologize for being a professional Waldo, and I'd make a sarcastic quip about not being able to get rid of me. I take another step towards her to initiate this detailed scenario that had been brewing in my head for months and she draws a gun like it was second nature. I skid to a halt. THAT was new. "Whoa now..." I raise my hands. "Since when do you pack heat?" "How do you know my name?!" "What-?" I sputter. "What do you mean 'how do I know your name..?! You haven't been gone for THAT long." I let the Hellish color, and appropriate appendages drain from my skin. She takes a step back, somehow looking more horrified by my fleshy appearance than my demon one. Judging from her age, I know reincarnation was out the window. Heaven mind-wipe was my second guess, but that too is disqualified when I notice the recognition sparks in her eyes. ...And when she cocks the pistol. "I'm prepared for this, buddy!" She said. "Salt rounds, and holy water! Don't assume just because you're wearing his face I won't shoot! It might be incentive!" I twitch in disbelief. That threat- I can't decide whether I whether I want to cry or laugh. I'm going to go with both. HAA. "Did- did they seriously demote you from power to mall-cop?!" "I'm not a mall-cop!" She says, switching out the shells for the appropriate ones. "Where did you come from? Did Abbadon send you?" I blinked, caught offguard. A whole new wave of offense washes over me. I show up in person and the first person she asks me about is another demon?! Wh- "Abbadon? Like- Luci's VP? Why does he matter- hey, I thought you'd be happy to see ME. Like I didn't just spend months jumping through investigations and hoops, and magical bullshit looking for you!" "Yeah, I'm real charmed. HANDS UP." I shook my head, mind swimming. This- this was interesting. I don't quite understand what's going on, but the comfort of her just being here was enough. If but temporarily. If there's anything I know about Adria, it's that she'll stick to her guns. If I don't want a headache, I should play along. "Yup. You got me." I sigh, whimsically offering out my hands. "You better have a cutesy cruiser car too or I'll be very disappointed." "I'll be sure to give you a tour." She shoves me toward it, not letting her gun lose aim of me once. I'm unfazed. "Tell me one thing- it doesn't have one of those tacky guardian angel car charms, does it?" "No." She lies. I quirk a brow. "My mom gave it to me! Ugh, just get in!" - - - I'm escorted into the station on my best behavior. There's another man in the room- a sheriff, my guess- who looks equal parts amused and skeptical by her special guest. "You're arresting Demetrius?" "This isn't Demetrius. He's just using his face like some kind of freak." She corrects, politely. "But he knows something." "Don't I always?" I grin. This Dave guy looks between the two of us, then back at her in an 'Are you sure?' sort of manner. See- even he knows what's up. Adria huffs, no time for sass. I smile fondly- I missed that face on her. "I should get the real Demetrius down here. Started the fire for sure- he looked like a certified demon when I saw him. Horns and all." Annnd there it went. 'Real Demetrius'? I winced, confused but slowly catching onto my current predicament. It was easy enough to put two and two together. "I wouldn't do that." I sighed, plainatively. "I'll talk. Anything you want to know. How about that?" Her eyes narrowed- though clearly listening. "But! You have to answer some questions for me! Deal?" I offered my hand through the bars, fingers waggling. "What do you want? Abby's autograph?" "Where did you come from?" She cut to the chase. "Uh- France. You were-...uh." There? "Yeah France." "A French demon?" She asks, speculatively as she marked it as some sort of note. Weird- but okay. "Sure, we'll go with that. My turn. How do we know eachother?" "We don't." I roll my eyes. "How do you know 'Demetrius'?" "Everyone here knows him. Television Evangelist turning Ashwater into reality TV. You couldn't have picked a worse disguise." I slow-blink. What a fantastic idea. "Why are you in Ashwater?" "Uh- to find you. Didn't I make that obvious?" "No." She paces closer. "I mean why are you here? Why are all of you coming here?" "It's a hot spot-" "I know that-" She interrupts, rude. "But why?" "Someone is overcharging their questions." I say, sing-song. "But it beats me. This place is too podunk, but it ended up on our radar somehow- HEY my turn." "Fine." "How long have you been here?" "Why do you want to know that?" She crosses her arms, defensive. "Ah ah ah- more questions, not part of our game. How long?" She sighs. "In Ashwater?" "If that's where we are. Yeah." "Since I was born." She says. I urged her to go on. Numbers. She cracks; "Twenty eight years, okay?" The edge of my lip twitched into a small frown. Twenty-eight years? Significantly short of eight hundred or so. This isn't the same world after all. The revelation turns my mood more somber. I'm not one for environmental awareness either, but the last thing I'd want to do is fuck us up in a different universe as well. Wherever this is- wherever we are right now- we're clearly together. I comb my hair back as I figure out how this changes things. Her brows arch too, as though she is arguing with herself. I know that face- she wants to say something. It's just hard to imagine what. "Why do you look like Demetrius?" I don't think that was it, but it's as far as we'll go. I rested against the bars, warm smile still on my face. "Can we avoid that one, please? I've only got one more for you, anyways." It's a long-shot, but worth a try regardless. "If you weren't here, where would you be? If you could be anywhere, that is." She tenses like a wall suddenly slammed down. "I don't know." "You don't know-?" "I like it here. Why would I go anywhere else?" I can smell Adria in denial from a mile away. Even her chief, partner, or whatever looked up from his desk with mild concern. I feel as if I'm overstaying my welcome. "Right. Alright- thanks. That's good enough for me, I guess. But do you mind if I leave you with some food for thought?" If she had an objection, she didn't voice it. "What?" "I'm going to get straight to it. I don't know how different things are here. Frankly- I like my world too much to care, but I want you to know something. You- you or some version of you- is the best thing to happen to me. And I say that selfishly. Very selfishly- you...you gave a shit about me. It's something that never made any sense to me, that you didn't have to do, but you still did. Even if I was more trouble than I was worth. And clearly-...it was enough to make me a better person. I just wish you were less of a pain in the ass to find, and if you pull this same stunt here, I can tell you I won't be happy." "Excuse me?" "Don't worry about it." I wave it off. "You don't know. And if we're lucky, you'll never have to know either. But when it all boils down to it- you did your job. Way back when, and then again before you left. I understand that's how it had to be, but I can't express how much I wish you hadn't. How I wish-..." I shrug. It'd be just like me to damn the world to have her back. 'Priorities,' my Adria would say. This one stared at me clueless. That's okay. To top it all off, I thought I might throw this in, because it's been seriously weirding me out- "Also- he prefers to be called Deme." Poof. And I was gone. Exit could have been flashier but I'm impatient to get back to the drawing board. If I was disappointed, it was only in theory. That brief visit, however bizarre, was just the sort of morale boost that I didn't know I needed. I'm getting close, Adria. You better be ready.

#my canon meets au spin #super inspired by malum's #adria #cop au #story

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jakiescokolwiek · 6 years ago

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His fingers still grip the rifle, the knuckles white on the dark surface of the gun, and he still stares into dark crimson eyes. The last words reverberate between them – him and the Beast – the talk of ashes and charred bones left in their collective wake somehow does not sound like merely a pretty metaphor anymore. Jack swallows back another question and slowly lifts himself off the floor. The walker is gone in the minutes that had trickled by and he tries somehow to justify its lack of awareness of his own position – was he shielded by the structure or was a single signature not worth the hassle, or, maybe, the interference had messed with the mech’s systems? There is also a different possibility, one that now is not as far-fetched as one would imagine otherwise, and he knows it’s the morphine talking as he glances back to the Beast. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” “Now, what makes you say such a thing, Sunshine?” The Beast tilts its maw to the side, playfully contrarian – yet under the light timbre something darker lurks with the intensity of razor-sharp fangs biting into the nape of his neck. “This is limbo. Tartarus. The ceaseless punishment,” Jack shakes his head, picks up the pace. “Do tell me, Sunshine, how does one escape from such a predicament?” The Beast now keeps his stride slinking forward at his side, the words simultaneously mocking and paternalistic. “One doesn’t.” “One doesn’t unless one has their own guide,” the Beast chortles. “I don’t remember ever being so goddamn fucking vague.” “You’re learning yet, Sunshine. You're learning yet.” "Goddamn fucking morphine," Jack murmurs. His vision is focused and swimming at the same time. His breath coils around his tongue with a taste of rusted iron. "If you're my guide, I'm fucking lost." "Oh, Sunshine, did I ever aspire to such a title?" The barbwire lull of the laughter pierces his ears together with the roar of the fire, and the smell of burning plastic and artificial fabrics suddenly becomes dominant. The plane. One wing is broken off and missing, the other is buried deep in a collapsed building. The fuselage is smashed into three neat pieces - the tail rests sideways on the street. The inside of the craft is still on fire and the asphalt is soaked by fuel. No bodies. No blood. The luggage is strewn around. No body parts. Nothing. There's a ripped in half pink suitcase in front of him with a small plastic hand sticking out of the bundled clothes. "Who's there? Please!" A woman. Jack turns towards the voice and a greenish silhouette swivels there with its hands outstretched as if fumbling in the darkness. A child cries. "Please, say something!" "They're all dead," Jack whispers taking a step back. "Yes, they are, and it was us who killed them, Sunshine, or did you so conveniently forget?" The Beast seethes with smug satisfaction. "Only ash and charred bones, no evidence and no witnesses," it hisses as it focuses the glare of its crimson eyes on him, like he is a mere insect under its scrutiny, "this is what remains in our wake. This is," it bares its fangs in a feral growl as it punctuates every word, "what we are, what we were, and what we are to become yet again." "No," Jack backs further, a stumbling step after a stumbling step, away from the encroaching darkness that swallows him only to spit him out in a green-lit hell. "No." His fingers move over the panel covered with a delicate synthetic mesh designed to evaporate on blast. A child cries. The explosive arms without a sound. The goggles give him fleeting vertigo with a split-second delay of the processed image. "Please, say something!" The woman moves in his direction, slightly off to the side, and Jack evades her. The carpet muffles his steps. "I know someone's here!" The child is still crying. A man screams in anger somewhere down the corridor. "One. Two. Three. Boom," the Beast intones with a static of bad reception raising in the background - its voice morphs into that of a newscaster, "...that Mehdi Benjelloun has just claimed the responsibility for the bombing for..." White noise. Everything drowns in white noise. The clock is ticking. The hands do not move, do not even strain, and the room is white. “Mr. Morrison,” the psychiatrist whose name he cannot recall smiles, the kind of impersonal smile one could expect from a professional detached from the situation. “Did the change in the prescription have any adversarial effects? Any notable differences you have experienced regarding your frame of mind?” The Beast stings behind his teeth, scrapes the sides of his throat, looks through his eyes. “No. Can’t think of any. Can’t…” Jack turns his gaze to the tree in the painting hanging above the vibrant ficus to his left, to the maelstrom of the painted sky behind it. The rapid strokes of the brush give it an illusion of a slow deliberate motion. “Felt worse for the first week but I don’t think I really thought about killing myself since then.” “That’s good to hear,” the man types something on the keyboard. “You redecorated.” “Excuse me?” “This picture, it’s new. It’s different from the one before.” The doctor looks at him quizzically, maybe even slightly alarmed. The Beast whispers of danger, a hissing kind of murmur seeping into his thoughts. “And what do you see in the picture, Mr. Morrison?” “Morbid landscape with a tree,” Jack swallows, eyes darting to the other side, searching for a route of escape from some undefined peril that now sits heavy on his shoulders. Its claws dig deep enough below his collarbone to draw blood that seeps through and stains the fabric. “Visual hallucinations. This merits additional evaluation.” The man extends his hand under the desk and the Beast roars in fury, it roars as everything is white noise again. The white room. The chair is covered in dark rust, no - not rust - old dried blood, cracking and flaking off. The infernal ticking thunders louder and louder until he wants to scream just to drown it away. "Getting lost in your own head again, Sunshine? We can't have that, not yet," the Beast whispers. "Inhale." Inhale. "Count." Count to five. Count against the ticking. Don't lose focus. "Exhale." He exhales, slowly pushes the air out of his lungs. "Remember..." "Remember my training," Jack repeats opening his eyes - when had he closed them? The plane is yet again in front of him but in the meantime, he must have passed it. The cockpit looks almost intact - if not for the missing panes of glass and something still sparking inside. He's hunched behind a concrete barrier - it seems the street had been closed off to the traffic before. Jack leans to the side to observe the plaza. There are several cars and a bus, one unmarked APC lying on its side. Recreational area primarily. He can see a bright red restaurant umbrella halfway thrown through a display window. A lot of bodies on the ground he can safely identify as Blackwatch personnel. Jack grimaces when from behind the APC a figure shambles out, a man in a stained dress shirt with a suitcase held in his right hand. Something unsettling in how strangely his neck twists to the left. "I wonder, Sunshine," the Beast teases, "fight or flight?" The man turns away and Jack mentally reconstructs the area mapping the best route. He licks his lips, runs his tongue over the chapped skin. Changes the grip on the Patten and moves hunched - eyes darting between the man and the ground - trying to find safe footing. Seconds he measures in breaths trickle by as he makes his way towards an overturned cart painted with happy pastels now greyed with settled ash. Jack stops to take another look at his surroundings. Crumbled building blocks the nearest street - he could climb over the rubble but the prospect is risky especially if he wants to avoid meeting the civilian or whatever else the man with the suitcase actually is. Slowly, as the figure disappears behind the APC, Jack raises. Maybe he can circle him. A blink, and the man stands before him in a cloud of swirling black ash. No. Not a man anymore. Something that used to be human. The lower jaw is missing, the eyes are white, the broiled skin sloughs off the meat. The creature shrieks with an unearthly tone; the wave of sound hits with a multitude of stabs and knocks the breath out of him. Jack falters and almost drops the rifle, scrambles to regain his composure. Twisting tendrils of purplish light lash out but not towards him, no, to the side, and with growing dread he sees a body dragged upwards with the entrails flopping from under the vest and limbs swinging in disjointed tugs like a ragdoll shaken erratically by attached strings. It raises the gun and turns towards him. Jack ducks behind the rubble. Bullets thunder against the cement. A shriek again, his vision darkness for a second, and another body joins in the puppet dance. Shots spray wildly in a wide swipe rising clusters of dust where they hit. Jack emerges quickly from the side and aims at the closest enemy. Two shots send the helmet flying, the third one shatters the brow, and the glowing tethers snap as the body hits the ground. It’s not enough, the strings spring out from the creature anew and latch onto the fallen cadaver, sink and dig into the flesh, and bring it upright again. “A resourceful abomination, isn’t she?” The Beast rumbles with glee, its presence growing, enveloping him, and mucous darkness shifting against his skin. The taste of mildew and rot steals into his mouth. “She tests our patience. We will kill her.” “We will kill her,” Jack echoes as yet another puppet joins the fray. “We will grind down her bones between our teeth,” the Beast purrs. Claws rest over his hands, and then he runs between the bullets sailing with deadly grace through the air. The Beast keeps his pace; the loud empty thumps explode in the sudden eerie silence as its paws hit against the pavement rising up clouds of ash. It bares its fangs, its maw low to the ground, and then it jumps through the motionless air swamped in the iridescent afterglow. The Beast’s jaws close around the creature’s neck with a nauseating crunch. It turns and twists thrashing its head from side to side until meat, tendons, and bones separate. Mutilated head rips off and freezes midflight in the air. With a snap, the movement resumes. Hunks of meat hit the ground with wet squelches, the violet tendrils dissipate, and the risen corpses fall over once again. The Beast roars triumphantly, and Jack, with his hands buried to the elbows in the creature’s clawed apart chest smiles mirroring its expression: all teeth and savagery.

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wolfrahne · 7 years ago

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Rahne & Illyana (Issues 23-55, w/ Special & X-Men Annual #9)

HERE COMES PART 2 BABY.

There’s not a whole lot between them in issue 23. It does, however, start the arc where Roberto and Rahne have Cloak and Dagger’s powers (respectively). Issue 24, Illyana tries to help them both by taking them to Limbo, in an attempt to ‘expel’ what might reside in them. Yet again, Rahne isn’t too keen on the idea of Illyana working her black magic, let alone on her.

She’s able to temporarily pull the powers out of Rahne and Roberto, though it’s ultimately to no avail. She brings them all back from Limbo, getting a bit of a chewing out from Xavier about taking the risk. Which brings Tyrone and Tandy back in after they’ve spent some time without powers.

Issue 25. Both have had time to think about it, and Tyrone having an extensive telepathic conversation with Xavier, agree to take the powers back and become Cloak and Dagger once again. Illyana is requested to bring them all to Limbo this time, and Rahne voices her opinion on the location. However, taking Tandy’s powers from her (with Rogue’s help) isn’t a difficult thing to do. Roberto, with Tyrone’s, is another matter entirely. Tyrone goes to face him head one, which provides enough of a distraction for Rogue to get in there and absorb the powers. It ends with Roberto, Rahne, and Illyana out for the count, Tandy and Tyrone with their powers back, and everything as normal as it could be.

26 is up next. Legion time, baby. The New Mutants get called to Muir Island, and we get to see some lovely displays of affection between Moira and Rahne, We also get the New Mutants introduction to Jamie Madrox, the Multiple Man. (I love it when I read things from later on, then go back and see the first time characters really met. AHHH.) In between bits, there’s some Hellfire Club stuff going on too (you pay attention when reading it).

Cut back to Scotland, where the group is enjoying some time out and about. Warlock is taking some adjusting time, which goes about as well as anyone can really expect. And we get a look at Reverend Craig, the man who raised Rahne (and is actually her father). Pushing the word of God, spouting that she is the spawn of Satan, blah, blah, blah.. (Someone shove a thick bible into his mouth already, jeez.) Also stuff with Magneto, which will be important later (again, you should pay attention. I did when I was reading it, I’m just going through to get the parts that illustrate this relationship). Oh. And Xavier’s son. Who he doesn’t know is his son. Legion. Fun times. Rahne sneaks out to see Moira in the middle of the night, and more cuteness ensues. Before being cut off. Ugh.

Number 27. Telepathic attack leaves Moira and Rahne in pretty bad shape. Predominately an astral plane fight. Not a lot to add here. 28, wrapping up the miniarc with David and Legion (for the time being). Nice thing about it is more Moira and Rahne moments.

29, nothing really to add. Look into Sam and Lila’s relationship, plus more Magneto stuff. Also starts shit with the Beyonder (screw that guy). 30, again, nothing to add. Allison and Rachel come in for a bit, though. Also Kitty. Hot stuff. 31 means it’s time for Shadow King (not so spoiler alert). At this point, you really feel pretty bad for Roberto and Amara. 32 has a small moment, but nothing that I feel is really noteworthy. This is another good issue for Illyana and Dani’s relationship, though. Also, possible future looks for the others, and hot daymn, Rahne. Girl grew up.

33 and 34 continue the arc, with 34 having more of Illyana bonding with Warlock (which is a-fucking-dorable). Shan is back at the end of 34, though Shadow King did his damage already.. Ass.

MAGNETO IS RUNNING THE SCHOOL NOW. ISSUE 35. Goddamn. BUT BEFORE THAT, NEW MUTANTS SPECIAL EDITION. WOO. Loki, Asgard, Amora-- what could POSSIBLY go wrong? Oh. Wait. Sadly, not a whole lot. And it concludes in X-Men Annual #9. Which makes me happy overall because.. Colossus and Nightcrawler in one issue? Yes. Yes please. Rahne gets turned for, like, ten minutes, into Grimfang. Wish we could’ve seen more, but eh. Them’s the breaks. I’ll live. Plus, Kitty telling off Loki because she’s sick of his shit is the best thing ever. Hands down.

Alright. Back to 35. Aftermath of everything from their trip to Asgard, plus dealing with Magneto being headmaster. Oof. Sadly, they share only a few panels together. But that still speaks volumes. 36 brings back the Beyonder for a bit, and Kitty takes Illyana’s place... Guh. 37, bastard kills everyone.

Alright, here’s a panel of Illyana and Rahne from issue 38, because the lack of panels is bothering me.

MUCH BETTER.

There really is nothing like the bullshit of being killed and resurrected. And I’ll just move onto the next issue where they’re actually around each other and share more than a few words. Actually, I take that back. There’s one panel that shows, in issue 51, that Rahne is worried about Illyana, and does care a heap more than she lets on.

To be fair, Illyana has every right to be pissed off. I sure as hell don’t blame her, and really, I don’t think Rahne does either. She got used. Possessed by Shan at Xavier’s command, and while it was to make sure the kids were safe... It was against Illyana’s will. This happened not once, but twice. In one issue. So. Yeah. Illyana’s rightfully PO’ed and Rahne is actually seriously worried about her.

Time to skip ahead to issue 55! And this will have some good bits with Dani included. (... I feel like this could be an OT3 for me. Not even sorry.) Lila’s back, and invites Sam and his friends to the launch of her latest album. Sam’s with Doug, worrying about what he’s going to wear.. While down the hall, Illyana, Dani, and Rahne (well, mostly Illyana and Dani) are putting together their outfits.

Honestly, it’s nice to see the three of them together, just being teenage girls.

And, to no one’s surprise, Illyana totally delivers. But.. Rahne’s upbringing comes into play, causing a little.. Tension. Thank god Dani’s there to keep them from going at each other’s throats.

(Rahne, to her credit, doesn’t have anything against Illyana being raised in Limbo. Which is a huge step up from where she was when the team came to include Illyana.)

And she does. WHOO. Cut back to the boys outside, who are getting a little impatient. Sam Cannonballs back inside.. And is absolutely taken aback. (I sure as hell don’t blame him.)

He bangs against a wall, which, luckily doesn’t hurt him, and Dani checks to make sure while Illyana and Rahne are giggling about it down the stairs. (SO PRECIOUS.) Doug is amazed at how good Rahne looks, and Illyana teases her a little about it. (Obvious crush alert. BLESS.)

Seriously. The progress in their relationship is amazing, realistic, and just.. Ugh. Overall beautiful.

Time to party! Times start to suck for Sam, Rahne is hanging out with Doug (SO CUTE), and Illyana and Dani are off with some pretty cute guys. Which they get dragged away from, but seeing the circumstances, they’re more than ready to put the irritation behind them.

Rahne throws her vanity aside too, which, sadly, tears the dress to shreds. But it’s to save Sam, so fuck it. Dani throws her sweater on Rahne when she shifts back, Doug compliments her, and Illyana ‘ports them home (after Lila steps in and Illyana sends the assholes who roughed Sam up to Limbo).

OKAY. Issue 55 was totally worth the wait, with all of the moments that Rahne and Illyana shared. Part three is coming up next!

#☾ we're of a kind (relationship: illyana & rahne)#☾ reflection in the loch (wolfsbane)#☾ she’s no’ evil any mor’in i am (magik)#☾ almost as outta place as i feel at times (magma)#☾ older brother an' first love (cannonball)#☾ the best o’ friends (mirage)#☾ love once upon a time (cypher)#[i had to take an overnight break to get this one done]#[i was getting irritated and ugh]#[BUT HERE IT IS.]#[WOOO.]

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