#that's what happens when you put nine teenagers on one ship

[sophiejacksonchase]

Chiron: so, how are the kids?

Coach Hedge: well, Piper had been living on one packet of Cheetos and 58 red bulls for the last week, Frank keeps using windows as doors, Nico is plotting Jason's murder because he ate the last poptart, I caught Percy and Annabeth almost two feet too close to eachother, Reyna tried to throw Leo of Argo 2 more then once because he called her RARA, and my fucking tv stopped working!

Chiron, very tired: well that sounds great.

Chiron: wait… what about Hazel?

Coach Hedge: oh, Hazel is great, she's in her room learning how to knit.

[katakaluptastrophy]

Let's be very clear about what the Houses do.

When Gideon fantasises about leaving the Ninth, this is what she imagines:

Not for Gideon a security detail on one of the holding planets, either on a lonely outpost on an empty world or in some foreign city babysitting some Third governor. Gideon wanted a drop ship—first on the ground—a fat shiny medal saying INVASION FORCE ON WHATEVER, securing the initial bloom of thanergy without which the finest necromancer of the Nine Houses could not fight worth a damn. The front line of the Cohort facilitated glory. In her comic books, necromancers kissed the gloved palms of their front-liner comrades in blessed thanks for all that they did. In the comic books none of these adepts had heart disease, and a lot of them had necromantically uncharacteristic cleavage.

A drop ship of infantry. Armed with those infantry standard two-hander swords. Their job is to secure the initial bloom of thanergy. Which sounds like a very antiseptic way of saying that a House invasion starts with a suicide squad of teenagers whose job it is to cause as many casualties as possible, so that the necromancers have something to work with. Teenagers like Gideon, desperate serfs or just wanting to make something of themselves, sold a promise of sex and glory, economic assets of their far-flung Houses until their untimely deaths.

But how useful their deaths, and those they take with them are! To the necromanvers of the Second, who can drain your thalergy as you die screaming. The Third, who can draw energy from the corpses littering the battlefield. The Fourth, who can turn them into bombs...

Until the subdued planet can be flipped, a contract put in place, a profit exacted. That Third governor installed.

Later, John explains to Harrow how planets are flipped:

So back at the start we’d drop in a single Lyctor, unnoticed, to start the thanergy reaction. Not to flip the whole planet, you understand, just to get the juice flowing.” He made a hand gesture for get the juice flowing, which made your head hurt. “Then within an hour or two you could send down a team of adepts and be confident they’d have all the reserves they needed. Nowadays we can’t afford to use Lyctors, so the first strike falls to the men and women of the Cohort, and they do a magnificent job…but the old way was neater, and kinder too, I think.

And in NTN, Aim describes her own harrowing experience as a displaced victim of what happens after that invasion, after the long and exploitative economic contract, and after the planet finally succumbs to its flipping:

The usual. It had been under contract for a long time. I mean, we were the third settlement wave, they built the Crescent in the bones of two other cities, you couldn’t dig up anything without finding remnants of a people we’d never known. The microbial population didn’t show signs of serious decay until the moment before the sea went anaerobic. The things crawling out of there … they seemed to mutate all at once … The Houses pulled support, said they’d prep us for an early move, but they left minimal forces in the barracks. We dug up old caches of materiel and used them. On the mutants from the sea, on the animals as they changed, on one another, on the Houses when they saw what we’d got our hands on and came back to take control. Blood of Eden was there too, you know. And in the end the Houses won and most of us surrendered and we were moved. Two moves later, and I’m here. There’s still a facility on Lemuria, of course. A decade later the Houses made it safe for geopolymer refining. It must be desolate.

And so you get the "lonely outpost on an empty world", the assignment Gideon saw as so unglamorous.

[blue-flamed-phoenix]

Chapter 1 - A loss

No one's P.O.V

This story begins in Kansas, in a town called Smallville, inside a school known as Smallville High. Inside of the school were walls of lockers, doors that led to various classrooms. In these classrooms, young teenagers learned various subjects like, Math, english and you know, all the neccesary subjects. Empty halls that were so silent you could hear a pin drop. Each door in the hallway had a number above the door frame along with posters on either side of the door frames. Each door had various subject posters on it. Moving down the hall to one door in particular where a Year 12 History class was currently in session.

Inside the classroom most of the students were either working or staring up at the clock counting down the seconds till school ended. They longed to hear the school bells ring because most of them wanted to return home and do whatever the hell they wanted. Thoughatthe very back of the classroom, one student stood out among the others. A girl. Though most students saw her as just a normal teenager. If only they knew that she was anything but a normal teenager. The girl had light hazel brown hair that reached to just below her shoulders. She had these magnificent deep bluebell eyes and slightly tanned skin. Anyone who saw her straight away thought she was beautiful, very much so.

The girl was known as Casey Kaden. Of course, the whole town of Smallville knew her because she was a local after all. She's been in Smallville her whole life and has never left as far as anyone else is concerned. She was a single child with a single parent who cared for her dearly. Both Casey and her mother were very good friends with the Kent family. When Casey was younger people in the small town would always tell her mother how beautiful her daughter was. Of course Casey would get flustered by this considering it happened almost every day. And in a way Casey knew a lot of the people in the town, she was known as being very courageous and strong.

Though Casey isn't what most think she is. Like Clark, she is not of this world. Though she arrived somewhat differently from Clark. Like Clark she arrived on earth in a ship, but she arrived 9 years after Clark's arrival on earth. She did come from Krypton, like Clark but her ship got lost during the transition between worlds. Her ship however was different from Clark's. As a result of the ship's preservation, she did not age over the nine years it was lost. Her powers are similar to Clark's except she's much stronger and a hell of a lot faster than him somehow. On top of this Casey has something Clark doesn't. She has the power to heal others quickly, although she doesn't yet know how to properly use it and control it gradually she'll learn. But wait that's not all, Casey also has another ability that Clark does not have. She has what is called illusion manipulation, or better known as Hallucikinesis. Casey in a way looks up to Clark and Clark sees her as a little sister in a way. They learn how to control their powers together.

As Casey continued with her studies, the sound of school bells interrupted her train of thought. She looked up as everyone got up, packing up their stuff and making their way out of the classroom. It was Friday, so everyone was rushing to leave when the bell rang. Casey stood up and packed up her stuff. Once her stuff was all gathered, she then walked out of the classroom saying goodbye to her teacher as she walked out the door. She walked into the very crowded halls of Smallville High, walking to her locker to put her books away and retrieve her bag. She opened the locker and did just that. She then shut her locker and made her way out of school.People said goodbye to her as she passed them, of course she returned the goodbyes with waves and whatever.

She walked down the street from school, making her way home to her mother. Lately her mother has been receiving threats from some unknown people that are after her mother for money. Of course her mother fought back and filed a police report but those people just wouldn't give up. So since then, both Casey and her mother have been very cautious. Though Casey isn't scared of them at all, for she knows that they can't hurt her seeing as she's practically bullet proof. But her mother isn't, so Casey is going straight home rather thanheading into town like she usually would.

Casey walked down a few more roads until she reached her house. She walked towards the house but as she did she got a strange feeling, a feeling she couldn't describe. "Hey MUM!" Sapphire called out to her mother as she climbed up the stairs of the front porch and just as she grabbed the front door handle she heard a shout from a few metres behind her. "CASEY! Get away from the house!" Casey heard her mother shout from behind her. Said mother was running towards her from around the side of the house. Casey looked back at her mother but just as she did suddenly the house exploded sending the young girl flying from the sheer force of the explosion. Within seconds the house was engulfed in flames and pieces of the house went flying in all different directions.

Casey's P.O.V

My ears were ringing as I regained consciousness. I opened my eyes to see I was lying on a patch of grass. It took me a second to fully comprehend what had just happened. 'The house...exploded.' I thought calmly then my eyes widened. 'The house actually exploded!' I screamed in my head. I shot up and in front of me were large, violent flames that produced black clouds of smoke. As my senses came back into focus I looked around me in alarm at all the shards of glass and discarded wood that surrounded me on the front lawn. Pieces of the house were scattered everywhere from the blast. I tried to stay as calm as possible as I checked myself over to see I was covered in black soot but other than that, I was completely unharmed.

Then that's when everything really sank in and immediately fear started coursing through my veins as I remembered my mother. I quickly got off the ground and spun around in my spot scanning the entire area for her. When I turned around and that's when I saw her. My mother laying on the ground on her side, her back facing me. I quickly sprinted to her and dropped to my knees as I did. "Mum!" I yelled as I turned her onto her back shaking her, trying to get her to wake up until I realised something that made my blood run cold. In the center of her chest was a piece of wood that had been blown off the house by the blast.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked up at my mother's face. I cupped her face in my hands. "Mum!" I yelled as I shook her head slightly but she didn't wake up. I used my hearing and found there was no pulse. "No, no, no. Mum! Please, mum, wake up!" I screamed as tears fell down my cheeks. I looked over my mother's body to see she was covered in scratches, glass and burns. "You'reOK,you're fine, you'll be OK!" I cried as I brought her body into my arms. I hugged her from behind. Her head was limply leaning on my arm that I had around her shoulder, my other arm was wrapped around her waist.

As I cried I could hear sirens heading our way. With the sound of the sirens I cried even harder for my mother. Her limp body was in my arms. I knew she was dead but I didn't want to believe it. I can't believe it, and I won't. It's surprising how your life can change completely in just a few seconds. As I hear the sirens get closer and closer, my grip on my mother's body gets tighter and tighter. It is impossible for me to let her go, she is my mother. At least now I know what those people were capable of and now I hope they burn in hell because they went as far as to actually kill my mother all because of money.

After a few minutes I heard people arriving and sirens were blaring. The police, firefighters and ambulance people were here and by this point the afternoon sky had turned dark. My tears had dried up as I stared at nothing. I hadn't let go of my mother's body. I heard people running over to me. "Ma'am we need you to let go of your mother." Someone said but I just held her tight as I shook my head. "Casey, you have to let her body go, if you don't we will have to use force." The officer said but I didn't even look at him. I just stayed quiet and stared off into space, completely disconnected from the world. I heard the police walk back slightly and then nothing. I wasn't sure how long I was sitting there for but then all of a sudden I heard another voice.

"Just let me talk to her." I heard a female voice say then I heard footsteps moving towards me. "Hey Casey, it's Martha." She said and I looked at her. "I can't let her go" I whimpered. "I know hun." She replied as tears were welling up in her eyes. "I know it's not easy, but you need to let her go now." She said and there was silence for a second.I stared blankly at her before nodding reluctantly. As tears began to roll down my cheeks again I slowly loosened my grip and the police came over to take her body from me.

As they did this Martha pulled me into her arms. "Everything's going to be OK." She whispered as I cried hard again. "You'll be OK." She said as she rocked back and forth. We stayed like that for a while as firefighters and policemen walked around us looking through the rubble and taking photos of the crime scene. Then Martha helped me to get to my feet and walked me towards her truck.

As we get to the truck, I got in the passenger side while Martha gets in the drivers side. I look out the window with tears in my eyes as I watch them place my mother's body in a body bag. Martha started the car and began to drive whilst I continued to look out the window just completely out of it. "Clark will be happy to see you." Martha spoke and I just nodded still staring out the window.

After that, everything went quiet in the truck for a while until we arrived at the Kent house. Martha wasted no time parking the truck, turning it off and getting out of it. As I looked out of the window I saw Clark was already on the front porch, waiting. He walked down the steps of the front porch and towards Martha who was already making her way towards the house.

Gradually I managed to put myself together sort of and got out of the truck. I shut the door and began to make my way to the house. Of course Clark met me halfway and engulfed me in a hug. "I'm so sorry Casey." He said to me, and I couldn't help but let the tears start falling once again. Meanwhile Clark was rubbing my back soothingly while we just stood there hugging for quite a while. "It just happened so fast" I sobbed as tears ran down my cheeks. As Clark released me from the hug I continued what I was saying. "It was too late, I couldn't save her." I sobbed, shaking my head. "I know. It'll be ok Casey. I promise." He said as he put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, sympathy evident in his eyes. 'I hope' I thought as I inhaled shakily.

"Come on, let's head inside." I heard Martha say as she walked up the stairs of the front porch and to the front door. We followed behind her straight after she opened the door and walked in.

-> Next Chapter ->

[tattlesandtales]

Character Cast: Mortals (male-ish)

(All characters operate within the multi-verse and multi-ship ideology.)

This is all the mortal male(ish) characters that Tumblr will let me put on one post. There is a fair abundance more, if you want to write with me but don't want to write opposite any of these people, feel free to look at my other casts or dm me to hear about the ones who haven't made it to a list yet.

Alex Finnegan: reformed catholic turned criminal. Reformed criminal turned national collegiate athlete. Reformed athlete went full circle to prodigal musician (sans religion). Alex learned soccer in the juvie system after being incarcerated for solicitation and drug possession, which they turned to after coming out of the closet and was consequently thrown out of home as a teenager. He was studying music at college on a soccer scholarship before taking the opportunity to join the national orchestra as the pianist (their one true love). They are finishing their degree in NYC. Alex is determined, ambitious, brave, awkward and anxious. Transmasc (they/he), bisexual, mid to late twenties, Bex Taylor-Klaus.

Casey Hamersley: prodigal football star, collegiate athlete, quarterback, often under the influence of alcohol, closeted gay man, religious background, studying a generic history degree. Casey feels like he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and doesn't know what will happen if he stops holding it all. he/him, closeted gay man, ear twenties, Matt Rife (subject to change post comedy special).

Darius Hill: with an abusive and angry man for a father, and a selfishly self-serving eldest brother, Darius was primarily raised by the middle son of the family who did his best to protect him. However, when he was nine, Darius and the middle brother, Cassius, were won in a poker game between their father and Cassius' girlfriends' do-good ex-con/criminal father. Kas and Klaudia, the girlfriend's parents, raised Darius as their own, but he did struggle to make friends and form meaningful relationships in the town he'd been born in, so when Kas and Klaudia's biological children moved out over the next five years, they moved Darius to Wisconsin where their family friends lived. Darius, once withdrawn and anxious, began to flourish in the snowy town, seeking out freedom and friendships, and despite being socially awkward and a little behind in his education, Darius was happy. Determined to keep that up, he studies veterinary medicine online and under the careful tutelage of his adopted mother who is a vet surgeon. Snowy small town aesthetics all around. He/him, gay, early twenties, Charlie Plummer.

Harper Bright: a pretty party person, with classically vampiric features and a pirate aesthetic. Harper volunteers at the youth queer centre in the middle of the city, basically doing peer support programs and tutoring in an environment safe for people aged 12-24. He's kind, patient, passionate, and wants to spend the rest of his life making a difference to the lives of those around him. He/him transman, bisexual, 21+, Jaco van de Hoven.

Josh Richards: raised in a white collar crime syndicate/cult, Josh was brainwashed into a violent soldier from a young age. While his little sister (Emma) was learning how to manipulate her way into people's lives and indoctrinate them into their expansive crime network (known as The Circus), Josh was learning how to make sure people kept secrets and protect those in the network who needed it. The cult brainwashing melted away six months before he turned eighteen when he walked in on their father assaulting Emma. Their father didn't walk away from the consequential exchange, and Josh was arrested for murder. Whilst in prison, Josh was able to negotiate an out for himself and Emma from the cult as long as he kept his mouth shut in protective custody in prison. When Josh got out of prison four years later he moved in with his unravelling sister and his only friend. Focusing on helping Emma, and after being raised in a cult, Josh hasn't learned who he is yet and is on a journey of self discovery, only recently discovering that he's gay and likes the sound of rain. He/him, gay, 23, Colton Haynes.

Kieran McNulty: A young single dad to a three year old girl named Andi, Kieran is a mixologist at a hotspot/trendy cocktail restaurant in the United Kingdom known for it's outlandish and creative cocktails. Keiran is one of their main mixologists who works in view of the customers who wow at his deadpan expression as he mixes the drinks in fun, flirty, and fabulous ways. Kieran is fiercely loyal and protective, perpetually exhausted, often horny, and misses when life was easy back in his youth--but he also knows deep down that it has never really been that easy. All Kieran wants is to provide for his daughter and build a community around himself, but he's struggling in all aspects. Transman he/him, bisexual, 21, Jeremy Allen White.

Lewis Schaeffer: a creative mind who runs a lot of the lights and production/communication hub for a horror theme park that primarily runs at night. Fairly introverted, he keeps to himself and keeps himself busy. He loves his job, and he loves the horror park, and is actively involved with the creative process of developing the stories and themes for the month. His brother was one of the founders of the park, but none of the founders are involved anymore and none of the current staff know anything about them, so Lewis keeps it to himself—especially since he lost the brother to suicide the year before he started working there. Lewis is trying to find joy in every aspect of his life, and although it's incredibly hard sometimes, he is doing his best. He/him, bisexual, 21, Timothee Chalamet.

Quinton Michaels: studying visual art in a prestigious art college, Quinn doesn't really know what they want to do with their adult life other than surround themself with beautiful things and explore the rich tapestry of gender, sexuality and humanity. He thrives on passion and creativity, and has a bit of a frenetic energy to match it. A firm believer that gender and sexuality is fluid, and that fashion and style don't have an assigned gender, you can often find Quinn dressed in an array of colours or style aesthetics. they/he/she (doesn't give a fuck), bisexual, 20+, Miles Frank.

Ronan Duffy: an older brother and middle child, a best friend, a beloved nephew, an adored son, an intelligent mind, a curious heart, and a fan of film and tv. Ronan has an Irish dad who cut all ties with Ireland when he fled with his deceased brother's young daughter after the murder of her parents. Ronan has an anarchist, ACAB entrenched mother who was raised by a police chief, and is surrounded by some of the most brilliant minds of the 21st century. It was almost guaranteed that Ronan would be intelligent, street smart, and charming. He is fiercely loyal and protective, and despite being strong and nimble, Ronan would rather spend an evening analysing 90s movies than fighting, dancing, clubbing or hooking up. he/him, bisexual, 21+, Dylan Spayberry.

Rowan Black: gave his entire youth, his sanity, his body, and his heart to ballet, going to a prestigious dance academy from seventh grade until graduation where he was given a place in an international ballet company. It was everything Rowan had worked for, and all he'd ever wanted, and he was ready to take his place on the stage...until a career ending injury during a dress rehearsal took him out of the game before it could even really begin. Rowan spent six months in physiotherapy, but he never fully healed, and the chronic pain is in his leg and his heart. After an attempt on his life and more time in hospital, Rowan is finally ready to face the world after ballet and find out what the rest of his world holds. he/him, gay, 20+, Valentin Humbroich.

Shepherd Ellis: he had it all: a high school sweetheart, a career he loved, and a secure future. The only thing he didn't have was honesty, and true love, until he threw the mirage away, broke up with his long term girlfriend and came out of the closet. Shepherd is looking for the community, love, and future he craves. he/him, gay, 20+, Nick Jonas.

[grimecrow]

Here’s My Favorite Ship And The Fanfic Events It Inspired...

To say that the online space is becoming more and more unsafe would be a bit of an understatement. Watching the degrading state of social interaction in the internet and the rise of bigotry and hatred sometimes there is an urge to step back completely but instead I think I’m just gonna take the plunge and see what happens.  I’m gonna tell you about my favorite ship and all the fics it’s inspired that I haven’t finished writing yet. This will also expose me as a fanfiction writer and get me put on the appropriate block list (if you know you know).

It’s all below the ‘keep reading’ line for those interested.

My favorite pairing is from MTV’s Teen Wolf and it’s NigelLeedsxIsaacLahey or Niac as I call it. Yep it’s OCxcanon!  Nigel Leeds is a direct descendent of Mother Leeds thirteenth child; that’s right he’s a Jersey Devil. My Teen Wolf world Jersey Devils gain their power from killing and eating people or supernaturals though they can eat pretty much anything. At the age of ten you are supposed to move off beef and chicken instead starting to WILLINGLY eat people to help you grow big and strong but Nigel refuses and suffers a very miserable, painful life as a result. Eventually, years later, he still hasn’t broken, still refuses to eat people but the abuse has worn him out. Thanks to his sister though instead of laying down and dying he runs away.  Ending up in Beacon Hills just before season one starts and through a turn of events he ends up in the care of an Argent that disowned the family after the Hale house incident as their ‘foster child’. Which leads to a lot of awkward moments when Chris and co move to town. Eventually Nigel meets bisexual disaster Isaac and the two fall in love. One of my favorite dynamics is how Nigel, in human, is borderline dainty than Isaac and there are some cute comments about it but when Nigel is in his Devil form he is near nine feet and can carry his werewolf boyfriend like a purse dog.  From there life is hectic for the pair. Not only the stuff that happens in the series but for the first time in a long time Nigel finds out that he has somewhere he belongs when Scott declares to Nigel’s father, the most powerful Jersey Devil currently alive (who came to Beacon Hills to kill Nigel for daring to try to be his own person) that Nigel is a part of Scott’s pack so the true alpha is more than willing to go toe to toe with the man to keep Nigel safe.  That’s when Nigel has his own ‘true alpha moment’ where through his connection to the pack and his love Isaac he awakens his own true strength becoming the equal to his father. Turns out the reason why Devils get the most strength from eating humans and supernaturals is because their soul is starved of the strength that comes from connections. When they eat a human they devour the soul as well and gain the strength from the connections the person had but because they are secondhand connections they get spent and the Devil’s soul starves again. Turns out Nigel is what the original Jersey Devil could have been if it had been nurtured by Mother Leeds rather than left to it’s own nature to survive.

But there are smaller things that happen in the stories that warm my heart to think on: - Isaac falling in love with the outdoors through camping with Nigel. - Nigel, thanks to his Jersey Devil strength and stamina, working double or when he can triple jobs to put Isaac through college without them having to worry about tuition, books, or student loans. - Isaac becoming a park ranger to not only continue his love of the outdoors but given they end up getting a place right near the park be able to run the cover that is necessary from time to time when raising their young family.  - Yes, Nigel has kids through surrogates to help ensure his line continues with the new lessons Nigel has learned and continue this new breed of ‘California Devils’. - Nigel sitting their teenage daughter down to explain to her how, yes, getting tangled up with werewolves leads to nothing but trouble and Isaac agreeing.

And yeah...that’s the basics of things. I won’t lie while I was typing this out I felt honestly borderline afraid to post this. Who knows what types of horrible responses this will get me.  Oh well.

[akaris-piplup]

Stowaway - Preview

Akari isn’t ashamed to say that she's a little noisy. It’s a trait that’s served her - and everyone else - well during her time in Hasui. So it’s without shame that she follows that sound of raising voices. She’d just finished checking up on the pokemon working in the fields and about to go craft some pokeballs. But that can wait - things seem to be escalating quickly. Better to nip it in the bud then have to clean up whatever is happening later, when it becomes an even bigger mess.  

The noise led her down to Prologue Beach, where there was a small boat pulled up to the dock. There were several crates and barrels both in the boat and on the dock. A much larger vessel was anchored further out, and she wonders if this means that they’re getting more people or if it’s all simply supplies. Jubilife relies on ships like these to get necessities and other goods that they trade with the Clans. So, it wasn’t a great sign that one of the Supply Corps members was gesturing down at an open crate like it had personally offended her. The shiphand had taken off his hat and was gesturing with it in turn, looking no happier.  

So absorbed by their argument, they don’t notice her approach until she’s almost right on top of them. Which is saying something, the people here being vigilant to the point of paranoia. Of course, it’s not paranoia if they're really out to get you and all that jazz. Akari knows this, has the scars to prove it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get exhausting sometimes. 

“What seems to be the problem?” Akari makes sure to use her best polite, but firm, voice. She was a nine star Survey Corps member after all. 

“This man-” The Supply Corp member gestures to the sailor with just as much dismay as she’d given the crate a moment ago. “-is trying to swindle us.”

 “Why, I’d never!” The man huffed. 

“How?” Akari interrupted before they could get into it again. 

“Look at this! I certainly didn’t put in any orders for eggs, let alone have one of them mixed in with the mint.”

Akari leaned in, and sure enough, there was a little red egg nestled in with the assortment of herbs. “Ah.” 

“We aren't asking you to pay for the damn thing!” The sailor claimed, defensive. “It’s just that my captain would kill me if I tried to bring it back on board with me.” 

“So you’re just trying to get rid of it?” Akari asked.

“Then toss it off the side of the boat for all I care!” The Supply Corps women gestured to the sea behind them. She looked like she was going to continue but her gaze snapped to Akari. The sailor was also now giving Akari a weird look. 

Ah, she’d made a weird noise at the suggestion. Woops. Sometimes she wasn’t quick enough to tamper down on those instincts. The instincts that swore that pokemon shouldn’t be hurt, shouldn’t be hated. 

Akari understood the need to be vigilant, but the idea of cutting this young life short without giving it a chance left a bad taste in her mouth. 

She cleared her throat, and then reached into the crate. “No need for that. I’ll take it off your hands.” 

The two of them didn’t try to stop her, but they both continued to stare at her like she’d grown a second head. Akari didn’t partially care. She’d gotten very good at not caring what people thought since arriving here, especially since the whole ‘banishment’ business. She knows that the Commander won’t try that again, but that just means that she no longer cares about walking on eggshells around everyone. She’ll use her modern sayings and coo over pokemon in the middle of town all she wants. It’s her own little form of payback, if she’s being honest. Ingo calls it ‘teenage rebellion’, which isn’t wrong. 

Holding the egg to her chest, she had to wonder if she’d cared for eggs before, because the weight was familiar. It’s not all too dissimilar to that first day, when she first held a pokeball. She couldn’t remember even seeing one before, but she knew what it was before the Professor gave them to her, and they felt right. 

“Well,” She looked back at them both, gaze now sharp. “I think you were in the middle of off loading these supplies? The sun will be setting before long, and I don’t think you want to be out at sea before it does. Not with that boat at least.”

The sailor huffed, but didn’t argue, and the Galaxy Team member simply nodded and went back to inspecting the supplies. 

Akari turned to go, made it about three steps, before stopping. She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, and if you get any more eggs mixed in, just bring them to me.”

Her voice broke no argument. And she didn’t even wait for the confirmation from the two of them before continuing on. She’s glad that they can’t see the proud grin on her face. She’d been practicing that voice for a while. An imitation of Cyllenes own commanding, no nonsense, ‘you better listen to me or else’ voice. 

Akari stops right before entering town proper, and debates over what to do next. She could hide the egg and take care of it in her house, but she might get called away to do field research. The last thing she wants is to leave it alone. What if it hatches when she’s not around? Even if she wasn’t treading quiet so carefully these days doesn’t mean she wants to be called into Headquarters to explain why she’d left a wild, unknown, pokemon roam free in the middle of village. 

“I wonder who you’ll be.” She whispered down at her little passenger. 

…Oh! Passenger! Ingo! She knows that he helps Lady Sneasler take care of her eggs, so that puts him one up and literally anyone else she could ask. Plus, he'd be a lot less weary about helping her hatch an unknown pokemon. 

With some semblance of a plan, she strode back into town. 

She couldn’t wait to show Ingo!

[takerfoxx]

What Your Favorite Puella Magi Madoka Magica Ship Says About You

Inspired by DoubleCa5t's series, and since we're probably going to get an official video sooner or later, I'm putting my version out while I can.

Also, this is all in good fun, so don't take any teasing seriously.

...

MadoHomu (Madoka X Homura)

You are a firm believe in the inherent eroticism of this image.

You have episode ten memorized.

You have a very specific emotional reaction to “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper.

You have severe problems with The Rebellion Story, particularly in how it upended the optimistic note that the original series ended on and recontextualized Homura’s devotion to Madoka as something unhealthy and even toxic, but you still can’t bring yourself to reject the movie entirely, because at the end of the day, even you have to admit that damn, that dress.

The phrase, “X character did nothing wrong” pops up a lot in your internet discourse.

You ship CatraDora.

KyouSaya (Kyouko X Sayaka)

You’re always a sucker for how the dynamic of Enemies to Lovers shifts from antagonism to devotion without losing its obsessive intensity.

Your ideal date can best be summed up as Be Gay, Do Crimes…after which you have to call your responsible friend to come bail both of you out.

You know that important stuff happens after episode nine, but to be quite frank, at that point you were too emotionally traumatized to get invested and were only watching out of a feeling of obligation.

You were uncharacteristically smug after watching The Rebellion Story despite what disproportionately little screentime your ship received.

You also ship CatraDora.

MadoSaya (Madoka X Sayaka)

You don’t understand what all the fuss is about when it comes to Enemies to Lovers when there’s a perfectly good Friends to Lovers right there.

This is the same joke as the first part of MadoHomu, but with the Hot Topic switched out for a Footlocker.

You lost your mind on 4chan over Persephone’s Waltz on more than one occasion and for more than one reason (hey, ErinPtah!).

KyouMami (Kyouko X Mami)

You read A Different Story, and probably listened to that one audio drama.

You’re a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of exes that still long for one another.

You feel that a lot of the issues that both these characters struggle with stem from how messy their falling out was, and had Mami been more supportive and Kyouko not abandoned her after the death of Kyouko’s family, a whole lot of grief could have been avoided.

MamiSaya (Mami X Sayaka)

Your ideal date is getting sempai to notice you.

You have gotten into at least one altercation with Anticrack-Kun.

MadoMami (Madoka X Mami)

Your ideal date is getting kouhai to notice you.

You’re just here for some girls being friends, gals being pals.

MamiNagi (Mami X Nagisa)

You were already shipping Mami with the human form of Charlotte before The Rebellion Story came out, and even afterward you’re still unwilling to let go despite how uncomfortable it makes you now, to the point where “Aged Up Characters” is a regular tag in your ao3 searches.

Either that, or…

HomuMami (Homura X Mami)

You’re a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of passive-aggressiveness.

You were tilting your head in a particular manner during that scene where Mami ties up Homura, and feel that how it ended was a real missed opportunity.

You had to pause The Rebellion Story for about five minutes after the gunfight, and after you continued you shouted, “Goddamn it, Sayaka!” out loud.

HomuSaya (Homura X Sayaka)

This is the same joke as the first part of MadoHomu, but with the Sanrio switched out for a Footlocker.

Your favorite ao3 tag is “Hatesex.”

KyouHomu (Kyouko X Homura)

You know what's better than one edgy badass girl with a tragic past? Two edgy badass girls with a tragic past.

You felt that both these characters spent too much energy pursuing someone that just weren't into them as they were, and would better off settling with someone on more equal footing.

You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of game recognizing game.

You really wish that they reached that ramen shop in the movie.

KyouMado (Kyouko X Madoka)

Your favorite highschool relationship dynamic is edgy delinquent/ray of sunshine.

You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of “gap moe.”

HitoSuke (Hitomi X Kyousuke)

You feel that these two characters get way too much hate, and everything that happened wasn’t their fault. Like, come on, guys. How could they have known that their teenaged relationship drama would be exploited by a race of emotionless alien groomers?

Your main priority is keeping things canon…and you don’t have a whole lot else to work with.

HitoSaya (Hitomi X Sayaka)

You feel that the most effective way of resolving a love triangle is eliminating the heterosexual options.

You feel that when Hitomi declared, “Girls can’t love girls!”, Sayaka’s reaction ought to have been, “Challenged accepted.”

SayaSuke (Sayaka X Kyousuke)

You just want good things for Sayaka, but only in a first four episodes kind of way.

You are heterosexual.

SayaHitoSuke (Sayaka X Hitomi X Kyousuke)

You feel that the best way of resolving a love triangle is by connecting the bottom two axis.

You are heterosexual. Or possibly bisexual. Well, regardless, you are really horny.

HomuHito (Homura X Hitomi)

You’ve played the portable game.

MadoHito (Madoka X Hitomi)

You are constantly frustrated at how little attention this ship receives. After all, weren’t they friends too? But instead people seem to be more focused on shipping characters that don’t even like each other or never even interact in the show, and at this point you’re just glad that I acknowledged it in this silly meme post.

MamiHito (Mami X Hitomi)

You want to be a wealthy, unmarried Victorian duchess who is noted by history for your incredibly close relationship with your lovely companion who lives with you, does everything with you, up to and including sharing a bed, and after both of your deaths scholars will make note of what great friends you must have been.

KyouHito (Kyouko X Hitomi)

You were going out of your way to piss off Anticrack-kun. And really, who wouldn’t?

KyouSuke (Kyouko X Kyousuke)

You were going out of your way to piss off everybody, and I salute your courage.

HomuJun (Homura X Junko)

You are really into Pixar moms.

Also, obligatory…

KazuJun (Kazuko X Junko)

This is the same joke as the second part of MadoMami, but you’re also really into Pixar moms.

MadoKyu (Madoka X Kyubey)

I can’t say for certain whether or not you’re a monsterfucker, but you certainly enjoy the chaos that the very implication of this ship creates.

PolyMegucas (Madoka X Sayaka X Homura X Kyouko X Mami)

You don’t understand why there has to be so much drama between all these different pairings. All the girls are wonderful in their own ways, and they would be so much happier if they just stopped fighting, formed a loving and mutually supportive team dynamic as was seen in the first part of the movie, and possibly smooched one another.

Also, you are extremely horny.

[lettheladylead]

running in circles

chapter twenty-one: i wanna know me like you do summary: Goldie visits Duckburg after a long, long absence. warnings: references to sex, nothing explicit wordcount: 4710 playlist (will be updated as chapters are posted): shorturl.at/bfBCQ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33776632/chapters/91579945

here’s chapter twenty-one!! text will also be included in this post for those of you that don’t use ao3:

1949; Duckburg:

On her trip from China to Iran to France to Canada to Calisota, Goldie had plenty of time to catch up on some of the things she’d missed.

First big thing: there’d been another World War. Alright. That one thing contained a lot of little pieces of information and she spent a nine-hour flight just trying to learn as much as she could about it. It certainly explained all the fear and anxiety from the Chinese civilians she’d interacted with.

Second big thing: the planes she’d been a passenger on were much nicer than they used to be. Felt safer and more comfortable. So some significant technological advancements had happened. Goldie wondered if Scrooge had anything to do with any of that.

She’d looked him up when she got to France, happy to browse the French newspapers since it was a language she’d been familiar with since her childhood. She found an article about Scrooge investing in some German airship that crashed and killed a bunch of people. She found articles about how Scrooge, as of 1947, was the second-richest man in the world. How did they determine something like that? It seemed like it’d be a hard number to come up with out of the blue.

But still, she was happy for him. That was what he wanted, after all.

It was frustrating to hear about how well he was doing, though. Goldie didn’t want him to be a miserable sack of pathetic nothingness, but she had hoped her being out of his life for such a long time would at least have thrown him off his game. She didn’t see anything from the mid- to late-1930s that indicated he’d had a meltdown of any sort, so...she supposed he didn’t care all that much.

Privately, she hoped he’d hid it well.

---

Goldie wandered through Duckburg with a hollow feeling in her chest. The whole town looked so different than the last time she’d been there. There were new stores and shops everywhere, so many cars, so many more people. But Scrooge’s mansion on top of the hill and his giant money bin looked exactly the same.

It reminded her that Scrooge wasn’t someone who liked to change. He’d be the same old Scrooge she’d known for fifty years.

She paused in her stroll as the number fifty repeated in her head.

Fifty years was a long time. She’d known Scrooge for more than half her life.

Goldie turned and looked in a nearby window, seeing how long her hair had gotten. Her bangs had grown out completely and it made her feel weird to see a hairstyle she hadn’t sported since she was a teenager.

As she glanced down at her torn and ratty clothes, Goldie figured she should at least make herself presentable. It wasn’t like she was trapped anymore. She could go shopping and eat nice food and get a haircut before barging back into Scrooge’s life. From all the reading material she found, it didn’t seem like he had a wife or anything, but that didn’t mean he was alone. She wanted to show him the same face he’d fallen for so many years ago.

It was hard to put off seeing him any longer, but Goldie figured an extra hour or two wouldn’t make much of a difference.

---

Scrooge McDuck was old and tired.

At the tender age of eighty-two, he’d been all around the world, collected hundreds of treasures and artifacts, he’d traveled to dozens of different dimensions and made friends and enemies in each and every one of them. He’d climbed mountains and found sunken ships. He routinely fought off evil witches who appeared out of nowhere and he regularly dealt with a gigantic family of criminals who were trying to steal his fortune.

Since he started out as a poor foreign boy trying to make it in America on his own, Scrooge definitely considered himself a success story.

That being said, despite all his riches and businesses - he fixed his family’s ancestral castle and he had his own butler! - Scrooge felt like he was missing something.

He knew what it was. He knew who it was. But she’d died over a decade ago and Scrooge hadn’t even considered the possibility of moving on. He’d known since the 1910’s that no one would ever make him feel the same way that Goldie did. 

Scrooge sighed and walked over to his desk, pulling out a thin, white envelope with his name scribbled across the front. Thinking about Goldie always made him want to reread her letter. It was hard, but when he’d first received it he spent months thinking about it every…single…day.

“Mr. McDuck? Here’s your mail.”

“Just put it on the pile,” Scrooge scowled and waved a dismissive hand at his butler. “All a bunch of bills ‘n charities beggin’ for my money!”

“Actually, sir…” Quackmore said hesitantly. “There’s something new today.”

“And what’s that?”

“...a handwritten letter from Miss O’Gilt.”

Scrooge’s head whipped around and he stared at the envelope in his butler’s hands. After a few seconds of hesitation and anxiety, he forewent all his paperwork and grabbed it, gripping the edge of the envelope roughly.

Quackmore didn’t say anything as Scrooge held the envelope up to the light of the window, trying to see through it. It was obviously just a piece of paper inside. But a piece of paper could still contain a lie or a con. There was no way to say one way or another without opening it up.

“...would you like me to leave, sir?” Quackmore asked.

Scrooge sighed and held the envelope in both hands. “I got a letter from Goldie once before. Only once.”

Quackmore didn’t respond, assuming Scrooge wasn’t interested in a two-way conversation.

“I didnae read it. Didnae even look at it. I just assumed her words would be cruel and awful so I threw it in the snow and never looked back.” Scrooge ran his thumb over his name, the ink smearing a little bit. “I cannae do that again. But...what could she possibly be writin’ me about?”

His butler frowned and felt the urge to comfort Scrooge, though he quickly ignored that urge and straightened his back again. “There’s only one way to find out, sir.”

“Right. Of course,” Scrooge mumbled. He glanced at the address the letter came from and frowned. “Mongolia? She’s...still there? After two years?” His brain started overthinking and Scrooge wondered if her ‘contact’ from their Gobi Desert adventure was more than just a ‘contact’. Maybe she got married and moved there and this letter was just her way of breaking the news!

Quackmore shifted his feet awkwardly as he watched his boss having a brief mental breakdown. “Um...sir?”

Scrooge shook his head and looked up. “Yes?”

“...the letter?”

“O-oh. Right, yes.” He was visibly nervous as he tore the edge of the envelope. He knew he was thinking too hard. Was Goldie the type of person to settle down? No, of course not. And if she was, then...why would she always be popping into Scrooge’s life? He didn’t really think he was her dirty little secret. If anything, she was his!

Scrooge pulled the letter out of its envelope and frowned at himself. No, she wasn’t his secret. He genuinely loved her and if she really loved him and wanted him to, then he would parade her around the world for everyone to see. But she didn’t, so he wouldn’t.

He unfolded the paper and felt his heart jump at the date in the corner. The letter was written two years ago. She wasn’t still in Mongolia, then. So why did it only send now?

Not wanting to lose to his anxieties, Scrooge finally started to read Goldie’s words. The letter wasn’t long, but it said a lot. A lot more than he ever imagined getting from her.

Quackmore desperately wanted to know what the letter said, but continued to stand there because Scrooge hadn’t dismissed him properly and he knew from Goldie-related experiences that his boss might need a drink or to go for a drive immediately after. She had a hold on him that Quackmore did not understand, but he was never one for romance. Still, he was curious. And his curiosity only grew when Scrooge started to laugh.

“...Mr. McDuck?” Quackmore asked.

Scrooge had covered his eyes with one hand and started laughing while he put the letter down on his desk. His laugh sounded hollow and pained, and as he pulled his hand away Quackmore could see his boss was crying.

Unable to stop himself, Quackmore grabbed the letter and scanned it quickly before Scrooge could take it away from him.

“Oh...Mr. McDuck, I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, putting the letter back down. “Are you, um...do you need anything?”

Scrooge’s shoulders were shaking and he was staring up at the ceiling, unable to stop himself from crying and unable to get up from his chair. He felt like he was going to pass out. “Of course Goldie manages to break me again!”

Quackmore frowned.

“Even from the afterlife, she just…” Scrooge leaned forward and grabbed the letter again. “...she just completely...she always knows how to ruin me.”

Listening to his boss was making him feel anxious, so Quackmore finally decided to leave the room. “I’ll go get you something to drink.”

Scrooge didn’t respond and just read Goldie’s words over and over again. He couldn’t stop. Every curve and angle in her handwriting was captivating and he never wanted to look away. He wished so much that he could’ve seen her one last time.

Scrooge -

If you’re getting this, I’m probably dead. I can’t really explain how or why because I don’t know yet. But I’m about to do something a bit stupid and dangerous, so I thought I should write a little something for you just in case I never come back.

I hope you know that I love you. I really do. Despite everything, I always enjoy waking up next to you and listening to you talk in your sleep. I miss you when we’re not together. And we aren’t together often, so...I miss you a lot.

This is turning into a lot of sappy bullshit. I guess potentially being on death’s door will do that to a person. I don’t know. Maybe I won’t be dead, maybe I’ll just be lost. But don’t waste your time trying to find me. I know you've got better things to do with your time.

Alright, this is getting long. I was supposed to keep it short and sweet, but thinking about saying goodbye to you is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I guess I should've known, you've been the biggest part of my life and I wouldn't be who I am without you.

XOXO

GG

For days, Scrooge had thought the letter was a trap.

He didn't understand what the trap could be or where Goldie was or why she'd sent him a letter that was so...emotional and heartbreaking, but he didn't want to believe that Goldie could be dead. She'd survived so much and the idea of her just throwing it away to chase some dangerous scheme was a bit too much for him.

For over a year, Scrooge assumed Goldie was still alive and would come back any day. She'd sent the letter to goad him, and when he didn't respond she would have to come get him herself.

After all that time with no response, Scrooge finally took a trip back to Dawson. Her properties were still there and he knew she spent a decent amount of time in town. But the Blackjack employees were no help. They hadn't seen her in years.

Years.

It was at that point, in 1936, that Scrooge had finally started to accept the reality. Goldie O'Gilt was most likely dead. She was dead and...she loved him. Actually, genuinely loved him. Why did he have to learn both things at the exact same time? Was there anything in the world more cruel than that?

There was still a little part of him that was holding onto the ‘most likely’ and all the (many) questionable parts of Goldie’s letter, so for two more years Scrooge checked in on her hotel every other month just to see if they’d heard anything. Each time they had not. And eventually the woman at the front desk said she’d checked the other hotels, and Goldie hadn’t been at any of them, either.

Scrooge faltered at the concept of other hotels. Then he thought back to his and Goldie’s conversations over the years and realized he’d thought she was exaggerating her own success or lying to get into fancy parties. But when he looked into it, it seemed that...Goldie did own a few hotels. All around the world. And they were nice. He had a brief moment of frustration when he realized he could’ve been staying in her hotels, probably for free, when he was on business trips in those cities.

He sighed and laid his head down on his desk. 

By 1938, Scrooge had given up. Goldie was dead somewhere in Mongolia, which was foreign and empty and vast and they’d never be able to find her, and he would never see her again.

Scrooge was sad. More than that, he was depressed. He had a lot of regrets when it came to Goldie and he’d never had someone so close to him die before. There were so many unanswered questions and things unsaid and he needed to talk to her again! But he couldn’t. And when Quackmore mentioned needing a day off to go to his brother’s funeral, Scrooge was hit with an idea that would get him back on his feet.

He needed to give Goldie a funeral.

He didn’t know anyone else that knew her (not the way he knew her, at least). And if he was being honest, he just wanted this to be between them. A quick flight up to Dawson, a visit to the old cabin, a glass of whiskey and a few goodbyes. That’s all he needed.

When that was done, Scrooge did his best to focus and get Goldie off his mind. For years, he didn’t think about love or romance. When his sisters visited or he visited his parents and they all harassed him about a wife and kids, he brushed them off like they were fools. He didn’t need any of that.

So in the far off year of 1949, when the doorbell rang one Saturday afternoon while Scrooge was in the kitchen with some guests, he absolutely could never have guessed who would be on the other side.

---

The man who answered the door was the same butler from last time. Goldie thought he looked a lot older, but she supposed that was because...he was. Still young, though, maybe forty? He definitely wasn’t old. Not like Scrooge. And not like her.

She was glad she’d stopped for new clothes and a haircut before coming over, though, because the butler’s face was absolutely hilarious.

“M-Miss...O’...Gilt?!”

Goldie crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her hip. The mid-length skirt she’d picked out was flowing nicely in the breeze and definitely gave her more of an entrance. “That’s me. Is Scrooge here?”

“He’s...I don’t, um…” Quackmore looked concerned and confused, looking at Goldie, then back into the manor, then back to Goldie again. “I need to...just, uh…pardon me, but…” He suddenly reached out and poked Goldie in the shoulder, then recoiled his arm as she glared. “My apologies. Please give me a minute.”

He shut the door in her face and Goldie pouted. Rude. She politely came to the door and rang the bell and he just shut her out?

She leaned to the left to try and look in the window, seeing a silhouette that was definitely probably Scrooge and the silhouette of his butler. There was some conversation happening, but she couldn’t hear a word of it. Then Goldie saw another silhouette and wondered who that could be. Scrooge’s new girlfriend? Maybe. Seemed unlikely. But it would explain the door in her face.

The silhouettes seemed to freeze for a moment, then the shadow she recognized as Scrooge ran out towards the front door. In only a second, the front door was open again and she was face-to-face with the man of the house.

He didn’t look much older. Maybe he’d found another fountain of youth or something. But seeing his face again did make her heart skip a beat. Several beats. It was beating so fast that she couldn’t hear it anymore. Her arms dropped to her sides and she felt suddenly very nervous. Especially since he hadn’t said a single word since he laid his eyes on her.

Scrooge’s face was unreadable. Over the years she’d figured him out and gotten used to all his little quirks and expressions. But at that moment, Goldie didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t know what was going on in his head. Was he mad? Had he thought she was dead? Had he...read her letter?

“...Goldie,” Scrooge said finally. He stepped forward and put a hand against her cheek, cradling her face. “Is it really you?”

She sunk into his hand, her heart jumping into her throat as she realized how long it’d been for him since they were last together. “Who else would it be?”

He breathed out a short laugh and stepped even closer, bringing their foreheads together. “Goldie girl…” Scrooge’s other hand came up and cupped her other cheek. 

Being held by him made Goldie feel safer than she had in years.

“I thought...I...where were you? It’s been so long.”

“I was away,” she mumbled, trying to ignore the warm feeling spreading throughout her chest and failing miserably. “Not on my own terms. But...now I’m back.”

“You are,” he answered, his eyes sparkling. “And you look even younger than the last time I saw you.”

“The power of a good haircut,” Goldie laughed. She moved her hands to his shoulders while he continued to hold her face. “So are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Scrooge smiled brightly, but he had the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “First, I, um...we should talk about your, uh...your letter-”

“Mmm, no,” she said quickly, cutting him off. “You should forget about that and kiss me and invite me inside.”

With a sigh - a happy sigh, Goldie noticed - Scrooge obliged and pulled her beak to his for their first kiss in a long, long time. For her...she’d waited longer. But the longing in his kiss was contagious and Goldie felt herself yearning for him as if she’d felt all sixteen years pass. She’d missed him so much in such a short amount of time...if his feelings were anywhere close to hers, then he must’ve been miserable.

If being the key word. But he certainly didn’t not miss her.

“SCROOGE! Where’d you go?!”

Goldie and Scrooge separated at the sound of a woman’s voice from inside the manor. Scrooge looked annoyed at the interruption and Goldie felt a boatload of questions piling up in her head.

“Did you really just kiss me when you have another woman here?” Goldie asked judgmentally, though she hadn’t moved her arms from around his neck. Or moved her body so it wasn’t pressed against his.

“Another wo...oh, no, God, no,” Scrooge said, starting out confused and transforming into outright disgust. “No, they’re not-”

“Matilda, go get him! It’s his turn!”

“SCROOOOOGE! Monopoly isn’t goin’ to play itself, ye-”

Scrooge and Goldie froze in their spot, staring at the loud woman who’d just made her way into the foyer. She had a flower in her hair. Goldie could’ve sworn she’d seen her before.

The woman cupped her hands around her beak and screamed, “HORTENSE! You might want to come oooouut here!”

Scrooge groaned and finally let go of Goldie, hiding his head in his hands. His face was bright red and Goldie finally realized what was going on.

“Ah...these are your sisters, aren’t they?”

Scrooge nodded just as the second woman entered the room, her feathers curled up all around her face. The two of them had several features similar to Scrooge’s - Goldie could definitely see the family resemblance. Plus, well. The accents.

They both looked very young. Goldie knew they’d been around since before the Gold Rush, so she was extremely curious about that. The one with the flower in her hair could’ve been as young as twenty-five, and the curly-haired one looked even younger than that. If they weren’t his sisters, Goldie might’ve been feeling a bit insecure about her age at that moment.

She thought about the hair dye that was applied to her head just a few hours earlier. Maybe she was a bit insecure either way.

“Matilda, do my eyes deceive me?” asked the curly-haired sister. “Is that our brother...with a girl?”

“Oh, Hortense, it’s true!” Matilda answered in a dramatic pose. “Our big brother is finally growin’ up! You wouldnae believe the amount of kissin’ I just walked into!”

“Kissin’?! Surely you couldnae mean our dear sweet brother would kiss someone without marryin’ her first!” Hortense added with a laugh. “After what he said about me and Quackmore, I assumed he would propose before even holdin’ her hand!”

The two girls continued their little show for a minute while Goldie turned her focus back to Scrooge. He looked absolutely mortified. As much as Goldie wanted to milk this for all it was worth and go share embarrassing stories with the pair of them, she also really just wanted to spend some alone time with Scrooge. It’d been a very long time since she’d had intimate contact with another person. Had it been as long for him? She wasn’t going to ask.

“Scrooge.”

“Hrmmm. Yes?” Scrooge grumbled quietly.

Goldie grabbed him by the lapels of his sportcoat and pulled him closer. “Tell your sisters to give us one hour of privacy, alright? Just an hour.”

The smile reappeared on his face and Scrooge ignored his sisters as they started whooping when he wrapped his arms around Goldie again. “Goldie girl, an hour won’t be enough time with you.”

“We’ll make it count,” Goldie said, giving him a brief peck on his beak.

Scrooge’s sisters started oooohing at that and Scrooge’s face quickly turned from joy to anger. Goldie found it very charming. She’d never seen him with his family before, so this felt like...a new step for them. Something different.

---

sex summary: https://sites.google.com/view/running-in-circles/summaries/nsfw21

---

“So...where were you?”

Goldie sighed from her spot laying against Scrooge’s shoulder. She just wanted to keep playing with the feathers on his chest, not talking about all the stupid shit she went through. “Away.”

Scrooge had his arm around her and he pulled her closer. “Goldie…”

“I went through an interdimensional portal and couldn’t find my way out again, alright?” Goldie answered quickly. “I traveled through two dozen different worlds, some of them terrifying and deadly, and then finally made it back here. And I guess I missed a lot because our world is very different than it was before.”

He blinked at her rapidly, trying to soak in all that information. “You were...I...are you...alright?”

“Really?”

“Okay, yes, I know you’re alright. But...well. I’m glad you’re here, then.” Scrooge started running his fingers through her hair. “Sixteen years is a long time.”

“Well…” Goldie started, still debating whether or not she wanted to share every little detail with him. “For me, actually...it hasn’t even been two years. Or at least it didn’t feel like any longer than that.”

“Oh?” Scrooge raised his eyebrows, thinking about that. “Some kind of time travel? Or did time work differently over there?”

“No idea.”

Scrooge paused for a moment and then slowly turned his body so he was next to Goldie and completely facing her. “So you missed me this much after only two years? I guess...you really do love me.”

Goldie’s eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink - though there was a bit of nervousness in his voice, Scrooge knew he had the upper hand at that particular moment. He wanted to bring up that letter and she wasn’t going to let them just move past it without addressing the gigantic elephant in the room. Love. Love.

She stupidly used that stupid word in her stupid letter ‘cause she stupid thought she was going to stupid die. Stupid! It wasn’t like he’d ever said as much to her. She assumed because of her hair in his box, but it wasn’t necessarily true. Was he going to mock her for having feelings? Goldie wondered if she should just brush it off and pretend being unsure of her own survival made her feel things that weren’t there. She didn’t really love him, she just wanted to feel something strong before her untimely demise!

Scrooge placed his hand against her cheek again and Goldie’s eyes were drawn to his. He looked so sincere and his cheeks were also quite red and she could tell he wanted to talk about it. He wanted to talk about them and their feelings and…

...and Goldie wasn’t sure. She just...she didn’t know where that would lead. Or if she wanted to go wherever that was. But there was no benefit to arguing about it, no joy in starting a fight. She still wanted to be there with him in that moment. So…

“...and what if I do?”

The shyness in Goldie’s voice combined with her inability to keep eye contact was keeping a big smile on Scrooge’s face. He thought, for sure, that she would deny everything and move on without addressing the letter. He absolutely did not want to do that. But instead she asked him exactly the right question.

“Then...I’d probably say I love you, too,” Scrooge said quietly as he brought his beak closer to hers.

Goldie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying not to get too ahead of herself. He was feeling a lot of feelings after thinking she was dead for over a decade. A few decades ago she would’ve convinced herself that his feelings were a lie, but now she knew better. He definitely did love her. But...he might’ve been overselling it a little. Just because of how excited he was.

Well...for once, she didn’t mind. Maybe she could enjoy being loved, just that once.

Their beaks crashed together in another kiss.

---

sex summary: https://sites.google.com/view/running-in-circles/summaries/nsfw21#h.ufjt2xx4dnq7

---

“Kathmandu?”

“Mhmm,” Scrooge said with a nod. “I have it on good word that King Malla’s gold is hidden there. And it’s a lot of gold.”

“Huh.” Goldie was cuddled against his side and picking at the feathers on her fingertips. It sounded like it could be a fun trip and a good way to get them back into the swing of things. But… “Are you in a hurry?”

Scrooge raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...can it wait a month or two? I want to go check on some...investments. And some people that I haven’t seen in almost two decades.”

He didn’t answer for a few seconds and then breathed out a happy sigh. “You came here first?”

Goldie blushed and shoved her elbow into his side. “We’ve already established that I missed you, sourdough, time to move on.”

Scrooge rolled his eyes and kissed her on the top of her head. “Yes, yes. How long do ye need?”

“Give me three months to get my life back in order. Then...meet in New Delhi?”

“Sounds perfect,” Scrooge mumbled, leaning in for another kiss.

Goldie kissed him back and then smirked. “But for now...I’m very curious to meet your other houseguests.”

Scrooge frowned. “I dinnae think you need to talk to them.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“They’re very annoyin’, you willnae like ‘em.”

“But you’re annoying and I still like you.”

“Annoy-?! Now that’s the pot callin’ the kettle black!”

“Are you trying to say something, Scroogey?”

---

---

the following links leads to graphic/explicit sexual text, please do not read if under 18 but if you do anyway please dont tell me you did lol https://sites.google.com/view/running-in-circles/summaries/nsfw21

---

REAL HISTORY FACTS:

- Okay so Goldie actually would not have been able to get out of China by plane in 1949 BUT sometimes I must embellish. So China to Iran to France to Canada she went.

DUCK FRANCHISE REFERENCES:

- The 1950s is when the original duck comics took place. I guess that's not really a reference it's just a fun fact. Now they just take place whenever they want so that they can have cell phones and laptops but also Scrooge's riches started in the Klondike gold rush. It doesn't matter lol - In Don Rosa's comics, when Scrooge gets Goldie's letter (that contains her feelings and hopes for their relationship), he thinks it's a rejection letter. So he throws it into the snow and never reads it. Then they don't see each other again for 50 years. Fun! - I don't think my characterization of Quackmore is all that accurate, but his writing is kind of all over the place in the comics. It's hard to get a consistent read on him. - Matilda and Hortense love to tease Scrooge about Goldie. That's only canon from one panel but it just feels right lol

[lightdancer1]

A five part draft scene from the Age Reversal AU:

Azula had grown up a sincere believer in Sozin's War. Even her mother's line, heirs of Sozin's rival and friend and then deadly enemy Avatar Roku were believers in it now (and how unsurprising that was. Roku too had been an imperialist who severed families, in the name of segregation rather than conquest, but still). The Siege in all its remorseless horror had begun to dent that. There was nothing glorious, unifying, or enlightening about what she'd witnessed there and been a part of. The smell of the dead from her own experiences in the battle lingered, as did the terrifying knowledge that one could be the best soldier in the world and yet bombardments could kill......and a short shell from your own side left you just as dead.

She had been given the task to explore the great lands, as the twenty-nine islands and the colonies were called....and incidentally to continue the familial tradition of the Avatar-hunt. Uncle and Father had done this. The unlamented Princess Sakura had met and ultimately wed Prince Akira in her own. Now it was her responsibility as Crown Princess.

She'd had what was on the surface a simple idea.

"We will go to the Southern Air Temple first," she'd said at a conclave with Uncle of the ship's officers. None of them, herself included, took the idea of an Avatar-hunt very seriously. If the Avatar had been reborn he was either an Earthbender or in the Northern Water Tribe and as cowardly as everyone else behind the great ice walls of Agna Q'ela.

Or he was an ancient man who had spent the last centuries training and would emerge a mighty god incarnate as a rising force to overthrow the Fire Nation. Either way, he had been born as Aang Bodha, a surname that was less a surname and more that given to all Airbending Avatars.

For all that Sozin's Night of Unremembering had severed the Fire Nation from its long depths of history to match any of the other four nations, the line of Avatars was remembered and studied. She had studied deep into that lore as a means of coping with her nightmares. The Airbending Avatars took the old name of their people before they'd been renamed the Air Nomads, led unofficially by chief monks called the Dalai Lama. A figure with no formal power or succession, merely a single voice when Air needed to speak in geopolitical terms with Water, Earth, and Fire.

Aang had been a boy of twelve when the War of Air and Fire happened. A year younger than she was when she was sent to war. That understanding led to a deep regret that was the second dent in her belief in the gloriousness of the cause. She knew what she'd seen and done and what it had done to her. Avatar Aang, at that age, deserved no less than she did. He had not asked for fate to throw a terrible gauntlet down and then to be expected to be grateful for grasping it.

And then at the age of fifteen she'd taken a dare from Zuko and found scrolls in the Dragonbone Catacombs that told a very different narrative. She kept them, the truth, and had quietly removed others. At some point the Nation and the War would become her responsibility and there were half-formed plans of what it would mean for that.

Only she knew of this hidden element, of the desire to know and to probe the terrible corners of the past. There were the official narratives she'd read deeply and more than half believed, still. And there were the other narratives written evidently in the very hands of her ancestors.

She wanted to know.

---------

They had made landfall near the ruins of the old place, taking with them a set of around five hundred soldiers. Not a long expedition, or at least not intended to be so nobody put up the effort to equip food except Jiren. Who'd gone with Azula in a case of teenage defiance, in spite of Azula going so far as to raise her voice and demand that she not go to see what she half-feared would be found in this place.

It was the brooding silence that unnerved even the trained soldiers. Animals chattered in the path up to this place but there were no sounds within it. An aura of tangible shadows, grief, and a faint smell of blood that seemed worked into the stones. These were all there. In the path up there had been the usual soldier-chatter and macho bravado, Jiren joking around herself and finding herself slowly one of the popular Royals. Which she had never expected to be.

The sight of the Temple brought that silence and that utter stillness deepened into something that left shivers in the ranks. None dared speak lest some hidden fear prove real. Even Jiren, who in many cases rightly saw herself as one of the most willfully violent of the entire Royal Family had fallen silent and stuck close to Azula, showing the truth of her heart, whatever her words at times said.

In close formation seven in ten of the crew of the Wanli stepped into the Temple. There was air to breathe or they would have fallen over dead but the wind was muted, as if it had seen something horrifying that led it to stillness.

Azula's footstep crunched on something and she stepped back and the silence became as foreboding in the Fire Nation Army's ranks as it was with everything else. It was a helmet, of the model of a hundred years ago. A Fire Nation Helmet. And part of a skull attached to it.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Hey, how do you and other Krexie shippers work around the age gap? I mean, I ship Krexie and have my own headcanons, but I'm curious to see what others have done.

I feel like I answered this before several months ago, but I don’t feel like finding that post so I’ll answer again. The full answer to your question is a short essay (and that’s without including the footnotes) so I’m gonna put it under a cut. This is based upon my own experience in the fandom, and the krexie circles I frequent are the ones on FFN, AO3, and of course, here on tumblr. Abuse and grooming (in the context of real people) will be talked about below the cut.

TL;DR I’ve seen three main ways of dealing with the age gap: ignoring it, aging Krel up, and aging Douxie down.

Ignore It

This one actually encompasses two different methods. The first of the two is to treat one or both of the boys’ ages as nebulous, with the maturity level of “teenager” and nothing more explicit since Douxie is about nine centuries old and Akiridion royals live for centuries Krel’s exact age is unknown. In this case, the age of one or both of the boys won’t be mentioned aside from being hundereds of years old. In addition, at least on Douxie’s end, this is somewhat canon. Fun fact: Douxie never calls himself a college student, and neither does Archie. Likewise, neither of them call Douxie 19. That was Steve, who deserved far better of a character arc than just to be the idiot that he is in Wizards. However, even though he deserved better Steve is not a reliable source of information on Douxie’s age, but Douxie and Archie are. In Wizards, the only information Douxie and Archie give on Douxie’s age is that he’s about nine centuries old.[1]

The other method of ignoring the ages is to treat Douxie as a 19-year-old (ignoring the immortality) and Krel as a 16-year-old, and to mention one or both of their ages. Their ages are ignored due to one or both of the following reasons: for one, in real life a three year gap between teenagers doesn’t automatically mean the older person is a predator. It’s something to be cautious about, and the younger person really needs to have people they can trust since if the relationship does turn toxic they would have less power and thus be in more danger (usually, though it is possible for the younger person to be more dangerous to the older one), but that doesn’t automatically mean something bad will happen. The other reason to ignore the boys’ ages is because honestly? If someone needs non-canon ships to tell them which relationships are healthy and which ones are dangerous, then their parents/guardians and teachers have failed them. Fanfic authors, fanartists, and other people creating/consuming fanworks on the internet are not responsible for educating random people on the internet. In fact, they and their content are not responsible for if a random person is abused, even if the abuser uses fanworks to groom the victim. It’s the fault of the abuser for being abusive.[2]

Out of these two methods, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen more using the former method of ignoring than the age gap than the latter.

Age Krel Up

This, again, has two different methods. The more common method is to have Krel (and the other Arcadia Oaks High students) age naturally, until they’re at an age that the fanwork creator is more comfortable with having krexie at. These types of fanworks take place years after the events of Wizards. The other method is to create an au where Krel (and likely the other Arcadia Oaks High students) were already the age the fanwork creator is more comfortable with when Douxie and Krel first met. I, personally, have created a lot of content for the first method, and I’ve seen other people use this method as well. My fake marriage au utilizes the latter method, and this method would also work for au’s where Douxie and Krel are both adults when they meet but the au does not follow canon.

Age Douxie Down

This one also has a basis in canon, though I haven’t seen any other krexie shipper use this method of dealing with the age gap. I, personally, use this whenever I want to make krexie content that’s compliant with Trollhunters and 3Below but also do not want to deal wit backwards time travel because I hate backwards time travel. However, someone should write an au where Douxie and Krel are human high schoolers whose biggest problem is being gay for the guy attending your rival school.

Now, while Douxie and Archie gave Douxie the vague age of about 900 years old and Steve made the assumption that Douxie was a 19-year-old college student, Trollhunters actually went out of its way to show that Douxie was a high school student.

In season two episode 10, Mary reveals that she was dating a student from Arcadia Oaks Academy, and Eli remarked that that was their rival school. I was in high school when Trollhunters was airing, and let me tell you: high schools do not have rivalries with colleges. Arcadia Oaks Academy would have to be a high school, or maybe a k-12 or 6-12. However, it’s far more likely that Arcadia Oaks Academy is a high school with the same age range of students as Arcadia Oaks High. In season three episode 1, Mary excitedly tells Claire that a student from Arcadia Oaks Academy is at Arcadia Oaks High. This student is Douxie, and unless I’m remembering wrong he also mentions attending the Academy. Unless Mary knew all along that Douxie was a wizard and was trying to give him a cover story for why he was hanging out at Arcadia Oaks High only for this information about Mary to be cut from Wizards due to time constraints, there is absolutely no reason for Mary to lie about Douxie’s age to Claire. The fact that Douxie was considered to be a high schooler by most of the fandom (some people had been on the train of “he’s a centuries old adult” for a long time) is why the krexie fanworks created pre-Wizards are all treating Douxie like a high schooler. (Yes, people shipped krexie (or at least consumed/produced fanworks for the ship) before Wizards came out. I have my fic on AO3/FFN and other people’s comments to prove it, as well as some fanart saved to my blog. Sadly, some of the people are now antis, and one them has now harassed at least one krexie shipper.)

Personally, when I age Douxie down, I age him down to 17. Only 17. Not 17-plus-several-centuries-without-aging. In-universe he may try to call himself 1492 years old, but he’s really just 17. However, as I mentioned before, if I’m aging him down to 17 then I’m also completely ignoring the backwards time travel aspects of Wizards. And, by doing that, I end up really changing the lore of Wizards. If you would like more information for the timeline I use when I age Douxie down, please refer to this ask.

In Conclusion

Thank you for reading this. These footnotes aren’t nearly as on topic and are more of a ramble.

[1] Re: Douxie having a really vague age of nine centuries. If you take enough chemistry and physics (but in my experience especially chemistry) courses, you will have it drilled into your head that 900 years old could really be anywhere from 850 to 949 years old. So, while 919 is definitely possible in the age range given by the age of “about 900″, it’s really a give-or-take number. However, if we truly want to be accurate, then if we choose to have Trollhunters take place in the 2016-2017 school year, choose to have had the moppet been between 16 and 19 years old at the Battle of Killahead Bridge, and we consider that the late 12th century (aka the time period of Wizards... supposedly, considering that it is not historically accurate) to be the latter half of that century, then Douxie would have to be somewhere between 834 and 886 years old. If we want a 16-year-old moppet and for the 900 years to be an accurate case of rounding, then the Battle of Killahead Bridge would have needed to be in 1183 at the earliest, which is accurate for the description of late twelfth century. If Douxie were to really be 919 in 2017, then the Battle of Killahead Bridge would have needed to take place somewhere from 1114 to 1117, aka the early twelfth century.

[2] Re: the argument that fanwork creators are not responsible for if an abuser uses their content to groom a victim. When I was a kid, the big scare was that strangers would lure off innocent children with candy. We were told not to go anywhere with a stranger, even if they had candy (or puppies, kittens, etc.) I don’t know how many kids have been hurt by strangers promising candy, nor do I know if this is something kids are still being warned about, but I do know that there isn’t some campaign against candy companies for daring to sell candy that an abuser would use against kids. This is because, as horrible as children being hurt is, it’s not the fault of the candy companies. It’s the fault of the abuser. And likewise, it’s not the fault of a fanwork creator if someone else uses their content to harm others.

PS: A side note since we’re discussing ages. I’ve been in this fandom for years, specifically on tumblr, AO3, and FFN as well as one of the discords. It wasn’t until the krexie discourse started that I started seeing people start calling Krel 14. I had seen people call him 15-16 in the past, because the fandom wasn’t sure if he and Aja were twins or had a minimum of a 9-month gap (assuming, of course, that Akiridions reproduce like humans do). That being said, before the discourse I never saw anyone treat Krel (or Aja, for that matter) like he had a canonical age. 14, however, seems to be something that stemmed from the wiki. You know, the same fan-run wiki that claims that Nomura’s full name is Zelda Nomura even though nowhere in the shows, books, games, or graphic novels is she ever called by that name. Yeah, the Arcadia Oaks-Pedia is not a reputable source. I’m going to give the wiki editors the benefit of Hanlon’s razor and hope that they were just going “well, since Krel is Aja’s younger brother and we’re assuming she’s 15-16 years old like the rest of the protagonists he must be 14-15 years old” and it was only after that that antis took the idea of Krel being 14 as canon and then ran off with it to be cruel and cause chaos.

[ao3bronte]

when chaos reigns [the sirens come to play]

A Merman AU. (Rated T with some suggestive language.) Now on AO3!

[Prologue]

Covid-19 and covert relationships don’t exactly go hand-in-hand these days, but you really shouldn’t be touching anyone’s hands right now anyway.

…that is, unless you don’t belong to the same species.

Can Merpeople catch Covid-19? That’s debatable, but news doesn’t exactly flow freely from the depths of the South China Sea. Though we know very little about Merpeople and their ways of life, we do know that they rarely interact with humans, preferring to tear down their ships and rip apart their dams and levies in revenge for poisoning the oceans and seas with their human fossil fuels. 

But this isn’t a story about environmental politics, or Covid-19 for that matter. This is a story about love and about putting aside differences. In this tale, Marinette discovers that the term ‘scalie’ (ou écailleux, car nous sommes en France) doesn’t always refer to the commonly known adjective to describe fish skin. And Adrien, bless his heart, really does need to put on clothes when he’s not rocking a fish tail despite the fact that he’d much rather be naked (much to Marinette’s mortification). Anyway you slice it, Merpeople and humans simply aren’t supposed to be together — they’ve always been sworn enemies through and through — but no matter what alternate universe we find ourselves in, these two idiots in love will always find each other.

This is, undoubtedly, their story.

[Part 1]

It’s the beginning of March and Tom and Sabine aren’t taking any chances with this whole virus situation. Marinette seems to catch everything — illnesses, hands, the whole nine yards — and they’d already been talking about sending her down to the Cote d’Azur to spend the summer with her grandmother Gina Dupain in order to get away from Paris for a little while. The constant schoolyard bullying from Chloé Bourgeois has dragged Marinette down so many pegs that Sabine is almost relieved to see Macron call off school for the foreseeable future and books both her daughter and her husband a trip to Marseille before the entire country shuts down for good.

Marinette isn’t happy, of course, but what teen would be? Her friends are in Paris! The fashion is in Paris! She doesn’t want to stay in some sleepy little Mediterranean village where nothing ever happens! Do they even have Wi-Fi there?

It’s a valid question. Tom doesn’t actually know, but he chatters enough for the two of them as the high speed train takes them down the rails to the south of France. Marinette’s sulk lightens a little as he pulls pastry after pastry out of his luggage in the hopes of making his daughter smile just a little before dropping her off with his mother — he knows that their relationship is a little strange after Gina’s last visit to Paris but there’s nothing a little quality time together can’t fix. 

Petite Befana is one of those places you find on a postcard. Situated just on the edge of France and Italy, the fishing village’s brightly coloured houses gleam in the sunlight, peppered with lemon trees and winding alleys that seem to almost spill out into the sea. The beaches are craggy and feature small grottos and coves of underground caves that glimmer with seaglass when the sun hits them just right, hiding a pocket sized oasis here and there for the adventurous who like to explore at low tide. Gina likes it here because of the Place du Marché, but Tom often wonders as to the real reason why she’s settled in the quaint harbour after years of Eat, Pray, Loving around the entire planet after divorcing his father.

She’s certainly made friends with every woman in town by the looks of it. Along with her veritable swarm of bar-hopping friends, Tom keeps seeing a woman with pointed features and deep black hair with a violent red streak in it pop up on her Facebook page. They always seem to be in the same jazz club, not that Tom is really paying attention; if his mother wants to spend her golden years drinking negronis and dancing with her girlfriends, that’s up to her.

They disembark the train in Marseilles and take a bus to Toulon, then another bus to Petite Befana. Marinette is passed out and drooling on his shoulder by the end of it so Tom does as he always does and hauls her up like a sack of flour through the thick and winding labyrinths of cobblestone streets towards his mother’s apartment. Gina greets them once he eventually finds the place and, after tucking Marinette into the daybed in the guest bedroom, happily guzzles down the proffered beer on the terrasse overlooking the sea.

“I’ll try to come down as often as I can,” Tom assures Gina, not knowing just how bad of a clusterfuck 2020 was about to become. “I’m sure Marinette will come to appreciate all that Petite Befana has to offer.”

“I’ll take her down to the market tomorrow morning,” Gina assures him, patting her son’s beefy forearms. “There’s an older woman who sells the most beautiful fabrics and I already dusted off my old sewing machine. That should keep her busy.”

“Marinette’s never happier when there’s a project to complete,” Tom responds with relief, downing the rest of his Kronenbourg. “I bet she’ll have an entire closet full of clothes by the time the month is out.”

“And it should only take a month or two for this to blow over.” Gina jabs her thumb towards the television as the news of Covid-19 murmurs in the background amid the waves of the Med on the shore. “And then we’ll be back to normal before you know it!”

(...and we all know how that turned out.)

[Part 2]

Covid-19 affects a lot of people in a lot of different ways. Some feel stir crazy. Others enjoy the alone time. But Marinette? Well, she’s been trapped in the harbours of Petit Befana for three weeks now and our aforementioned heroine is already bored out of her skull. She’s made three dresses, four satchels and twenty two scrunchies with the leftover fabric because what else is there to do down here? Luckily, Covid-19 hasn’t quite affected Petite Befana like it has the other regions of France and Marinette is able to go outside at least...not that she wants to. 

There are more artisanal bakeries and charcuterie shops in Petite Befana than there are nightclubs and high end boutiques, which is odd for a village so beautifully situated on the coast of southeast France. Gina proudly boasts that her new home is often bypassed by the glitz and glam of Monaco; lavish superyachts and the seemingly endless stream of paparazzi prefer the glamour and uberwealth just west of their little village, leaving its sleepy inhabitants mostly alone to sell their goods to the tourists that stop by for a night on their bicycles and scooters. Marked with the Italian influences of its neighbour, Petit Befana truly is the little-known last stop on the famous Cote d’Azur which makes it an inspiring landscape for Marinette to discover…

...for all of four days. 

She’s already so over Covid-19 and, like any teenager, she’s getting more and more annoyed by the day that she can’t hang out with her friends! Why did Maman and Papa send her down here?! All she wants to do is get back to Paris and design! It’s not like there’s anything fun to do here anyway, besides play video games all day in her bedroom; the only places that offer free WiFi are closed and she can only play Animal Crossing for so long before her grandmother insists on making her get some fresh air. 

Ugh! 

Grumbling under her breath, Marinette pulls on her raincoat and stomps down the laneway from the terrasse towards the sidestreet where her grandmother’s 1920’s bastide-style home resides. From the cobbled alley, Marinette watches the colourful array of fishing boats land their day’s catch right up on the harbourfront and heads down despite the storm clouds brewing on the horizon.

“Bonjour!” A group of older men wave as she makes her way down the ancient steps, the pathway shaded by thick palms and cacti. She pauses just long enough to ask who’s winning their game of socially distanced pétanque before continuing her way through the pines towards the gravel and sand beaches that line the shore. 

The seafront is mostly boarded up, much to both Gina’s and Marinette’s disdain. Her grandmother used to spend most of her evenings at the jazz bar La Sirena with her friends, not that Marinette got to meet any of them. The lockdown shuttered pretty much everything the day after she kissed Papa goodbye and settled into her new life for the next month, but with three weeks already stretching into four, Marinette dejectedly wonders if she’ll ever see Paris again.

Passing the last brasserie on the boardwalk, Marinette leaves civilization for the long stretches of barren coastline. There’s all sorts of little inlets and grottos here and there, especially as she gets closer and closer to the Italian border. Unfortunately, it’s only April, which means it’s rainy, generally unpleasant and completely and utterly empty on the beach.

“No one to talk to, nothing to do…” Marinette sighs and tries to kick a piece of driftwood, only to miss it with her foot in true Marinette style. The faux pas — quite literally — sends her screaming and flailing her arms like an octopus on a ceiling fan as she dramatically plummets face first onto the wet, slimy gravel.

She groans and pushes herself up on her hands and knees, wincing as sea-weathered stones dig into her palms and kneecaps. Marinette is, above all, a walking disaster in every sense of the word — sometimes she wonders if the powers that be seek out to deliberately punish her with embarrassing things like this on purpose for their own amusement. 

(ಸ_ಸ … *cough* Zag *cough*)

Marinette whimpers as she wipes chunks of seaweed and brownish foam off her cheeks and chin. At least no one was around to see her fall over — thank god — but she’ll still have to do the laundry when she gets home. She’s covered in muck and little bits of oily slime that are sure to stain if she doesn’t wash it out soon. Marinette grimaces as she tries to shake it off of her hands; humans really have done a number on the seas and oceans...like, why is her front so sticky? She glances at some of the garbage on the shore as she sits on her haunches and wonders if the news has it all wrong. Maybe the merpeople taking potshots at rich people on yachts with old cans and plastic sea trash really do have the moral upper hand…

Marinette, being Marinette, would have continued to stare dazed and confused into space well into the afternoon had it not been for the impossibly shiny something or other sparkling in the grotto straight ahead.

[NEXT PART...]

[passable-talent]

*grabby hands* childhood Jedi training rival x anakin skywalker? 🥺🥺

you ever had a boy own your whole heart? I didn’t even realize how much I loved this man when I watched the prequels at 7 until I watched them again at 19- literally a gay awakening, twice. unprecidented.

also. I LIVED BITCH

Three years old, and you’ve never known anything other than the Jedi Temple. You’re learning words quickly- words like ‘up’, and ‘down’, and ‘Force’.

Five years old, and you’re told about how your parents sent you to Coruscant with pride, because you were force sensitive. They knew that someday, you were to be a Jedi.

Age seven. The time is drawing closer for you to become an initiate. You’re doing well in your classes, and you’re capable of some deep meditation, even if Master Yoda always comments that you’re too distracted.

Age nine, and there’s an eleventh added to your clan of younglings. His name is Anakin Skywalker, and he seems cool. He’s a bit old to start his training, but he’s part of your clan now, so everyone helps him study and catch up to the rest of the group.

You’re eleven years old. The initiate trials are only a few years away. Anakin is your best friend, even if you’d never admit it. He’s such a show-off, his force powers much stronger than anyone else in the unit, his marks on strategy exams are always outstanding, and he’s already a padawan, as he loves to remind you. But your politics are stronger, and when you practice with the wooden sabres, you beat him every time.

Thirteen, now. Next year, you’ll compete in the initiate trails, and if you succeed, the Apprentice Tournament. Anakin has started going on missions with Obi-Wan Kenobi, but he’s stopped teasing you about it, since he’s noticed how you redden with jealousy.

The initiate trails were a success. You’d gathered more skill in the force, though you still weren’t at Ani’s level, and passed the first trial. You had been gifted an orange kyber crystal by Master Mace Windu, and your lightsaber was distinct and brilliant. Finally, you had something to tease Anakin about- his blue blade was a common color.

For a year you trained with renewed fervor, having been moved from a youngling to an initiate. You were readying to participate in the Apprentice Tournament, where you would show off blade skills that Master Kit Fisto praised as being some of the best he’d seen from an initiate. Anakin helped you train, though he always offered with a throw-off statement such as ‘you’ll need all the help you can get’.

And if he didn’t cheat and use the Force, you certainly would’ve won more than you did.

Master Mace Windu had become an idol of yours, ever since he chose you to hand that kyber crystal to. If he didn’t mind the interruption, you would study with him, and he would guide your emotions, like your jealousy of Anakin and your angry determination, into Jedi strengths. He harbored the decision that he would take you as a padawan, as he hadn’t had one since Depa Billaba completed her trials, years ago.

He told himself that he’d take you as a padawan as soon as possible, but it seemed that you were intent on competing in the Apprentice Tournament, and he wouldn’t stop you.

Fourteen years old, and facing off against your class- and clan- mates in lightsaber duels, one by one. Your skills with the saber were unmatched by your peers. Certainly not by far, but you had a talent, a natural knack, and you quickly progressed through the bracket, until the final free-for-all. Anakin and Obi-Wan, you knew, were in the stands, just like Mace Windu. You needed only to win, or at least put up a fight, to impress them all.

Strategy was your ally, as the match started, as you did not charge headfirst into the battle. Your angry determination had turned to cool focus, picking out the best times to engage a fight and turn your opponent away. Soon enough, it was you and one other initiate- Lys Kysek. He was skilled, but you were better.

Cheers erupted when you won the duel, and you gave a humble bow, lifting Lys up to show respect to him. When you exited the Arena, you found the congratulations of your friends, and though Anakin looked impressed and happy for you, he maintained that things would’ve been different if he’d entered the tournament.

Seventeen years old- you’re a padawan to Master Mace Windu, and have been for three years. Anakin is most certainly the person you despise most in the world, and anyone who claims otherwise is clearly lying, kidding themselves. Don’t they see how you boast every time you beat him in a duel? Don’t they see the way you flush with anger whenever he bests you? What other explanation could there be for your sputtering whenever he sends you a cocky smile?

Yeah, yeah. You see, Jedi are forbidden to love. You wondered, though, if the Masters of Old would’ve written that rule if they’d seen how Anakin smiles.

At nineteen, you were knighted, having completed your trials. It was rushed, you knew that, but the Clone Wars had begun, and the galaxy needed Jedi Knights like never before. It was fine- Master Windu would do just fine without you. And besides, being a General in the Grand Amry of the Republic had its perks.

One being, of course, that you were able to chose to go on missions with your old friend, Anakin Skywalker.

He had his hands full, with his new padawan and all, so he was often grateful to have you at his side. Ahsoka, her personality not unlike a Florrumian fire cracker, seemed to reignite the rivalry between the two of you, going so far as to claim she wished that she had been your padawan, instead of Anakin.

Oh, how that made him boil.

Still, you would follow him into battle in a heartbeat. You’d protect him with your life, and of course, he would do the same. Together with his piloting and your sabre skills, you were unstoppable on missions. Ever so slowly, you forged a force connection.

It was like that of a padawan and master, but more balanced, like a true partnership. You could feel each other’s presence, location, and sometimes even emotion, when it was particularly strong. Anakin never spoke of it, and so you wondered if you were meant to hide it- maybe, it had happened because of the love you held for him as a teenager, and maybe still did. Jedi weren’t meant to grow attached to anyone, especially not the way that you had, and so you kept quiet, and just felt it when he stood beside you.

Anakin and Ahsoka had left for a mission that you weren’t meant to accompany them on. You stayed at the temple and completed the diplomatic communications you were known to be quite good at, content and confident that Anakin would return unscathed.

And then, you felt it.

In the middle of your meditation, when your body was open to the force, you felt the deepest, most raw pain you had ever felt in the depths of your stomach. It made you double over and nearly vomit, its pain so intense that you couldn’t move. It ebbed after a few moments, and on weakened legs you stumbled to your communication station.

Where pain had been only moments ago, you now felt fear settle. You had a connection with Anakin, and when you were meditating with the force, had felt horrible pain- the conclusion was obvious that Anakin was hurt. You tried first to reach him, but nothing went through. Then you tried for Ahsoka, who was equally unreachable. When you couldn’t reach Captain Rex you started to fear for the worst.

You ran to your old Master, finding him in discussion with another Jedi, who he waved away as he sensed your panic, and strife.

“What is it?”

“Anakin’s in trouble. I can’t reach him, and I think he’s hurt.” Mace turned to the nearby communication equipment and tried to reach Anakin’s unit, but gave you the side eye as he did so.

“How do you know he’s hurt if you can’t reach him?”

“Master, I- I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.” You conceded with a sigh, knowing that your master could see through you.

“Anakin and I- we have this bond, in the force. I don’t know how it happened. But it’s never been like this before- I’ve never felt his injury, and I’ve never felt him when he was so far away. I- I’m scared that he’s in real danger.” By this time, Mace had pulled up transmission with Obi-Wan, who quickly relayed the 501st’s last known meeting and location.

“Be careful,” Mace warned you, “what you’re describing sounds almost like a Dyad. It can’t be, we would’ve known by now, but if it’s this similar now, it could prove to be dangerous, later. Don’t let his pain keep you from his rescue.”

You hopped in a speeder and raced to the aid of your friends.

When you entered the atmosphere of the planet Anakin had said to have been lost upon, you tried to open your mind to the force- it was difficult, you had to admit, flying a speeder through Seperatist airspace, but you had to try. You let the force guide you to a different part of the planet, where you touched down and hid your ship amongst the foliage as best you could.

Once again you let the force guide you, sending you deep into the woods. You knew you must’ve been getting close when you began garnering fire, but instead of red droid blasters, you were avoiding instead blue fire.

So you ignited your saber and lifted it as a sign of peace.

As soon as the clones stopped firing, you rushed toward them, and found almost exactly what you feared. Ahsoka had tears running down her face, surrounded by a protection squad of clones, and Anakin was bleeding heavily from a droid blast in the center of his abdomen, right where you had felt the pain. You had taken time to get here- he was still alive, but had passed out either from the pain, or from blood loss.

“Master (Y/N), I don’t know what to do,” Ahsoka sobbed, and you feel to your knees opposite her, at Anakin’s side.

“Ahsoka, give me your hand,” you ordered her, and you pressed down her hand onto the left side of his wound, then moving your palm to its right. “Meditate with me. We’re going to give him some life force, to help him heal.” You’d tried this, once, long ago. When you were on a mission with your Master, and he’d received a similar wound. It was much smaller, and he’d been able to guide you through it. Today, you would be that guidance, for Ahsoka. And maybe, her Force powers and yours combined would be enough to heal him. “Visualize the Force, the Force all around us, within us. Visualize it traveling down your body, into your fingertips, into Anakin’s body. Visualize the energy flow being channeled by the two of us.”

Once you’d explained, you closed your eyes, and pictured it. The Force, to you, looked like golden light, compassion and kindness shimmering in the air all around you. Like a magnetic field it was drawn to Jedi, and in this instant you saw it pour downward through the funnel you created with Ahsoka into Anakin’s body.

He opened his eyes slowly, a small groan leaving his body.

“Hey, (Y/N). You made it after all.” Ahsoka called Master! and leapt forward to give him a hug, to which he laughed and hugged back, teasing that it would take more than a droid to kill him. You shook your head and sat back, narrowing your eyes.

“Skywalker, how many times am I going to have to hop in a speeder and race across the galaxy to make sure you don’t die?”

“Oh, just once more,” he shot back, that smirk back on his face, as though it had never left. “I don’t suppose you have a way off this planet?”

“You’re lucky I’m going to let you on my ship.”

As soon as Anakin opened communications on your speeder with Obi-Wan to report the successful, if nearly life-costing, mission, you let Captain Rex take the wheel, and went to the deck below to speak with Anakin in private.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” He asked, his hand over the scar that had formed from rapid healing. “When I got shot.”

“Yes,” you answered, eyes cast to the side.

“Why are we connected like this?”

“I don’t know. I think-“

“Is it because of how much I like you?” You lifted your head in surprise, and briefly felt an emotion you almost never felt from Anakin- vulnerability.

“You- you do?”

“I have since we were kids. I never told you, because I knew I wasn’t supposed to feel this way, and thought that since you were raised in the temple, you’d never feel the same.” His expression told you he was sensing the emotions that currently broiled in your heart. The nervousness, the surprise, but mostly the relief, relief that your love wasn’t unrequited, that you weren’t the only one, that you weren’t breaking the code alone.

“Anakin, I- I can’t believe this.” You took the two quick steps to him but stopped short of the hug he was expecting, briefly laying your fingers where his wound had been, where his robes were scorched. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” Anakin gave a little laugh.

“Yeah, me too.” You closed the distance and hugged him, tightly, closing your eyes and letting yourself feel as satisfaction and happiness bounced between the two of you. “I’m glad you were there when I woke up.” You snorted, pulling away, eyes narrowed playfully.

“Buddy, if I wasn’t there, you wouldn’t have woken up.” Instead of teasing back, as you had expected, Anakin took hold of your closer wrist, the playfulness only in his smirk.

“Then it’s a good thing you were there. If you hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have gotten to do this.” With his opposite hand he cupped your face, and slowly, he brought the two of you together.

Scattered across the galaxy, there were four people who felt it when the two of you kissed. Not because of the kiss itself, but because of the connection between two who were bound by the force, pulsating outward from a moment of satisfaction, devotion, happiness. Master Yoda, on a mission to Endor, who scowled, wondering how much harder it would become to control Anakin. Mace Windu, on Coruscant, who laughed, as though he expected such a feeling. Obi-Wan Kenobi, in a cruiser halfway ‘cross the galaxy, who merely shook his head. And, on the very same ship, Ahsoka Tano, who quietly received five Republic credits from Captain Rex, who’d lost their bet.

-🦌 Roe

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley chapter 10

“So,” said Ochako.  ���Do we open the door, or…?”

The door was unassuming and bland.  Very… doorlike.  It was also the only way forward unless they wanted to backtrack several hundred feet.

Incidentally, no one was standing directly in front of the door. Ochako wondered if that was a coincidence, or if they were all just that wary of things after these past few hours.

Aizawa sighed heavily and hauled open the door.  It was dark inside, with a single spotlight illuminating a small sign that said, ‘This way to 5.’

“That’s suspicious!” said Iida.  

“So it is,” agreed Aizawa, squinting into the dark.  “I’ll go.”

Walked to the sign, and the rest of them tensed, ready to jump in to help at any sign of danger.  The lights suddenly turned on, and music began to blare.  A large television screen played a video of a dancing man.  

“A rickroll,” said Todoroki, reverently.  

If Aizawa’s sigh had been any heavier, it would have had its own gravitational pull.  

“Yeah,” said Six, voice as emotionless as ever.  “Great job, everyone, you got here.”

“Was that really necessary?”

“What?” asked Six.  

“The music,” said Aizawa.  

“Consider it a practical demonstration,” said Six.  “The farther in you go, the older we are, and the more experience we have with this kind of landscape.”  He ran his hand over the sign, and Ochako gasped as patterns and colors followed his fingers.

“You’re younger than Skyrunner or All Might, though,” said Ochako.  “You’re the same age as Aizawa-sensei.”

“Well, yes, but actually no,” said Six.  “I was here before they were.  I’m older.”

Ochako’s senses, honed by months living in a building with nineteen other teenagers, detected an opportunity for teasing.  She pressed her hand to her lips and put on her slyest smile. “Are you?  Reaaaally?”

“Memes,” said Todoroki, nodding gravely.  

“I can see why Nine likes you so much.”

.

Six grabbed Aizawa’s sleeve preventing him from moving on with the others.  

“If you’re trying to keep me away from my kids, I suggest you don’t.”

Six raised an eyebrow.  “Your kids, huh?  You know, we had a bet running about that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Anyway, I wanted you to hear this, first.  You can decide if you want to tell them, after, but they are Nine’s friends.  I don’t want to be responsible for them running off on their own without your knowledge.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me something that could help Midoriya but will be incredibly dangerous.”

“Are you sure your secondary quirk isn’t precognition?”

“I am saving my crisis about that until we get out of here. This waste of time is illogical.”

“Right.  So.  Remember when I said that Nine didn’t get to choose who we were?”  He gestured at himself.  

“Yes,” said Aizawa, already hating where this was going.

“There’s someone who we don’t count as one of our number.”

Now Aizawa really didn’t like where this was going.  “You mean, you’ll count terrorists, but not… this person.”

“Yeah.  Usually, we keep him locked away, but with all this disruption…”

“He’s gotten out.”

“Not yet.  What I’m telling you now may not be relevant at all.  But if that door does open, I want you to have this option.  Not all the others agree the risk is worth it, but I think that should be up to you, since you’d be the one taking it.”

“What option?”

“That person, he took something from Nine, back when his quirk first manifested.  You know all the guys you ran into back when you were in his mind space?  He took one of those.  I think, and most of the others agree, that it would be beneficial if he got it back.”

“He took part of Midoriya’s personality.”

“Yes, you can think about it that way.”

“That part wouldn’t happen to be something like self-preservation, common sense, or grudge-holding, would it?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

“When you reach One, if you want to try to get it back for Nine, ask One if the vault it open.”

“Exactly how dangerous would this be.”

“Horribly.  But you probably wouldn’t die.  This quirk comes with a time limit.  Otherwise, we wouldn’t ask at all.”  Six let go of Aizawa’s sleeve.  “Your students are waiting for you.  You should go.”

Aizawa stepped into the dark.  A battle strobed against the darkness.  No, two.  One with Six and a man who must be Five, and another with Six and Shimura Nana.  Both battles were against a darkness whose silhouette resembled the monster of Kamino Ward far too much for Aizawa’s comfort.

“You’re next!” shouted two overlapping voices.  

Aizawa blinked.  He was in a well-lit street, looking at what could only be the so-called Five.

.

Izuku woke up slowly.  Being asleep had kept some of the pain at arm’s length, but now it returned with a vengeance, along with an oddly comforting pressure.  

Oh, Toshinori had fallen asleep wrapped around him.  That was nice.  They really should start moving again, though.  

The ground rumbled, and Izuku realized what had woken him up.  

“Toshinori,” he said, shaking him the best he could from his position.  “Wake up. There’s an earthquake.”

Toshinori blinked awake.  “Did you call me Dad?”

“No?”

“Back in the city?”

“Um.  Earthquake. What do we… uh, do?”  He didn’t know what the earthquake drill for the middle of the forest was.  Four had, but Izuku was having trouble understanding him over the pounding in his head.  

“It isn’t shaking anymore,” observed Toshinori.  “We should probably still go.”  He rubbed his eyes.  “Let’s get you patched up first.  I can’t believe I fell asleep without making sure you were alright…”

“I’m fine,” protested Izuku, trying to stand up.  He could just keep using Blackwhip to stabilize—

The space behind his eyes turned white.  When it became clear again, he found himself pressed against Toshinori’s shirt.  

“Toshinori,” he whined, because he couldn’t help it, and, oh, no, he was such a burden he shouldn’t be making Toshinori hold his weight, he was a lot heavier than he looked, but his head was pounding and his eyes felt like they were bleeding and his skin felt like sandpaper, “it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” said Toshinori.  “Let me take care of you, please?”

Toshinori lowered him back to the log and started to remove medical supplies from the pockets of his coat.  

“What are we going to do after this?” asked Izuku, voice as quiet as he could make it without whispering.  

“That is an excellent question, my boy,” said Toshinori in an imitation of his usual heartiness.  “As you might imagine, I’ve acquired a number of contacts over the years. Some of them are comfortable with, ah, less than legal escapades.”

“I didn’t think you had any friends other than Detective Tsukauchi and Mr. Shield.  And maybe Gran.”

Toshinori hunched his shoulders.  Izuku immediately felt bad.  

“Well, you aren’t wrong.  Contacts and friends are in two different categories, I’m afraid.  In any case, I’m hoping to eventually reach one of them, and then…”  He trailed off, and Izuku got the sense that Toshinori was bracing himself for Izuku being upset.  “I am hoping to arrange passage to I-Island.”

“We’re leaving Japan?”

“Just until we get this cleared up,” said Toshinori.  

Izuku rubbed his eyes.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.  “What about Shigaraki and All for One?”

“Not your responsibility,” said Toshinori.  

“It kind of is.”

“It really isn’t.”

“It’s our family.”

“I know.  At least, I know now.  Goodness. I don’t think I’ve wrapped my head around it, yet.”  Toshinori rubbed his temples with his wrists, keeping his dirty fingers well away from his eyes.  

“What about before that?” asked Izuku, guiltily changing his line of questioning.  

“I have a few other safe houses around here.  Funny story about one of them.  Completely abandoned building on public land.  Was being used by some anti-mutant cult.  No one ever came to check it out after the initial arrest.  So. Finders keepers.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“All Might,” said Izuku, suppressing a giggle despite the seriousness of the situation, “that’s illegal.”

“I have done a surprisingly large number of illegal things in my life.  Comes from fighting with a centuries-old monster the government doesn’t want to acknowledge as existing.”

“They’ve acknowledged him now,” observed Izuku.  

“Hasn’t seemed to help much, has it?  Anyway, that one shouldn’t be too far from here. Probably.  It will still be quite a walk.  We’ll stay there, for a while.  Until I can reach one of my contacts.”  Toshinori sighed.  “I think the one in Deika will be out best bet.  He works in the shipping industry.  I’ll have to introduce you, just in case we end up separated.”

Izuku pretended the last sentence didn’t send him into a spiral of panic.  

Of course, this spiral of panic was interrupted by an entirely different panic, because the ground started to shake again.  

“I can Float us—”

“Don’t, you’ll hurt yourself,” said Toshinori, keeping a tight grip around Izuku’s bicep.  

Toshinori’s hands were extremely large.  A tree crashed to the ground in the distance.  Accompanying that sound was a roar too loud and animal to be completely human, but too coherent to not be human.  

Toshinori went pale.  

“Someone you know?” asked Izuku, covering his ears to keep the sound from battering his brain any further.  

“We need to go,” said Toshinori, bundling up all the supplies he’d taken out.  “We need to go right now.”

“All for One?” whispered Izuku, getting to his feet.  “A gigantification quirk?”

“One of his subordinates,” said Toshinori.  “One I never managed to find.  I’d hoped—Of all the luck—” He started cursing under his breath in English.  

Maybe Izuku really did have a villain-attracting quirk.

The shaking of the ground grew stronger.  “Run,” said Toshinori.  “Don’t look back for me.”  Toshinori had to know that wouldn’t fly (or float) with Izuku, because a second later his face twisted up in something like resignation.  

Izuku grabbed Toshinori’s wrist.  He could Float them both out of here.  

Blinding pain lanced through his brain again.  

Okay, maybe he couldn’t.  

The ground in front of them erupted.  A craggy giant burst up from below.  

“Little Lord!” the giant shouted, voice more than loud enough to hurt.  A massive hand picked Izuku up, holding him gently but extremely firmly.  “I’m SO HAPPY to see you again!”

Something clicked in the back of Izuku’s head.  A memory he didn’t know he had resurfaced.  

“H-Hi, Machia,” he said.  

“Did this bald man kidnap you?!  He smells like All Might!  But All Might is yellow.  Should I kill him?”

“No,” said Izuku.  “He’s definitely not All Might.  He’s, uh, a friend.”

“HELLO LITTLE LORD’S FRIEND.”

“Hello,” said Toshinori, waving a little, clearly in shock.  

Machia shifted to wave at Toshinori and Izuku hissed as the movement jostled his injuries.  His minor injuries.  His very minor injuries that weren’t bothering him at all.  

Who do you think you’re kidding, kiddo?

Not helping, Grandma.  

“Little Lord!  Are you hurt?”  Machia sniffed him.  “You smell like blood!  I have to bring you to the doctor!”

“The what?” asked Izuku, alarmed.

“Don’t worry, Little Lord!  He is a very good doctor!  We must go!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Izuku, before Machia could get more than three humongous steps away from Toshinori.  “It isn’t my blood, it’s the blood of my enemies!”

“Lord tried that one, too, Little Lord!”

“But—”

“Oh!  I forgot your friend!”  Machia turned around.  “Sorry, Little Lord’s friend!”  He picked up an increasingly distressed Toshinori and continued stomping through the forest.  

Izuku realized that Machia was headed back towards town.

“Wait!” he shouted, despite not having a plan for what to do next.

“Wait?” repeated Machia, balancing on one foot.  

Thankfully, Izuku’s brain churned out a plan.  “My friend here,” said Izuku, gesturing at Toshinori, “has a house nearby.  It would be better if we went there, and then the doctor can come to us.”

Machia grinned, which was honestly an unsettling sight.  “You’re just like Lord, Little Lord!  Always making plans.”  He brought Izuku up to his face, close enough that Izuku could feel his (oddly minty-fresh) breath and bonked the top of his head with his nose.

“Do you brush your teeth, or do you have a quirk for that?” asked Izuku before he could think better of it.  

“Lord gave me a tooth-brushing quirk!  He said he was tired of smelling my morning breath.  I do not know why he said that, because it was night.  But he gave this quirk to me!  It was very generous of Lord.” said Machia, delighted.  “How did you know?”

Izuku decided not to go down the rabbit-hole of his reasoning and shrugged.  “Lucky guess?”

Machia laughed.  “Lord says that, too, sometimes!  I am very glad to see you, Little Lord.  I have missed my Lord very much, and you are just like him!”

Seven vaguely annoyed and insulted ghosts buzzed in the back of Izuku’s head.  

“I am also glad that you did not grow up to be as big as me! You would be much harder to carry if you did.”

Apparently Izuku was not the only one with a propensity for rabbit-hole thoughts, because he could not imagine a scenario where it would be reasonable to expect him to grow to be as big as Machia.

“So,” he said, “you’ll take us to my friend’s house?”

“Yes, Little Lord!  And then we can call the doctor, and he will take care of you!”

Izuku didn’t think Machia meant to be ominous, and yet.  

.

“So,” said Aizawa, surveying the man up and down.  “You’re the one that decided the best place for my student to develop an unstable, highly dangerous, and painful quirk was the middle of a high-adrenaline training exercise full of other students.”

“Hey,” said the man, scratching the back of his head, “no one got hurt, and when you’ve been dead as long as I have, you start looking for entertainment wherever you can get it.  Besides, you’re the one that let the training exercise keep going.”

“According to your compatriot back there,” Aizawa said, hooking a finger over his shoulder, “you haven’t been dead at all.”

Five jolted and ran his knuckles over his bandoleer.  “Yeah, it’s easy to forget.”

It was great to know that Five was trash at lying.  True, he’d been told up front that Six’s explanation would be at least partially false, but still.  

Aizawa sighed.  

Five, who’d also introduced himself as Lariat and Banjo Daigoro, appeared to be a fairly typical hero for his era.  Minimal hero costume repurposed from military gear, worn with just a bit of flair, indicating that the celebrity status of heroes probably hadn’t fully set in yet.  Ammunition for a sidearm, although the sidearm itself was well hidden.  The gun was probably bulky, but if Aizawa didn’t miss his mark, those were stun rounds.  Eye protection, but not head protection.  Not that Aizawa could complain about that, considering.

“Anyhow, if you’re all here, let’s go.”  The man clapped his hands together, activated his quirk, and proceeded to fling Aizawa and his students through the air, without warning.

“Sorry ‘bout this!” said Five.  “But we don’t have time for the whole history lesson!  Just the highlights!”

Brief battles flared to life around them as Five dashed sideways along skyscraper walls and swung from building to building.  

“I always thought of myself as a sort of Spider Man, y’know?”

“I don’t know that hero, sir!” shouted Iida over the whistling wind.  

“Pre-quirk comic book character,” explained Five.  “Most of ‘em got censored after the first quirk boom. Didn’t want to give anyone ideas. But by my time, with the pro hero scene starting up, they came back in a big way!”  Five landed in front of a large convention center.  “This’s where they held the first Modern Comic Convention in Japan.  Or ModiComiCon for short.”

“And we couldn’t walk here, because?” asked Aizawa, suppressing an increasing urge to commit murder.  

“I thought my way was more fun,” said Five.  “Haven’t you always wanted to travel like that?”

Aizawa tugged on his scarf.  “I do.  Frequently. Under my own power.”

“Another Aizawa-sensei,” decided Todoroki, quiet but decisive.  “Aizawa-sensei, but… funkier.”

That did it.  Once this was over, he was expelling all the problem children and taking a vacation. The Rat God could find a sub.

“This is where I met Four the first time,” said Five, pushing the doors open.  The auditorium was filled with rows upon rows of booths.  All empty of people of course.

Aizawa, grudgingly, followed.  

First contact.  

Those voices…  Something about them…  The number.  

“Those are your voices,” said Aizawa.  

“Yep!” said Five.  “It’s a special moment, you know?”

Aizawa frowned.  At this point, he highly doubted that these ‘vestiges’ were simply based on real people. The vestiges themselves had to have reason to suspect that they were at least remnants of real people to give themselves a name like that, and with All Might thrown into the mix…  

Add to that the repeated themes, the oddly ritualistic components (First contact and you’re next), Midoriya’s closeness with All Might, and Aizawa got—

Honestly, he had no idea.  The fact that All Might was still alive tended to rule out the ‘Midoriya’s quirk is that he’s haunted’ theory, which, admittedly, was rather flimsy to begin with.  Perhaps it was a legacy-dependent quirk, reaching back from student to teacher? He would be skeptical—Most quirks had some kind of logic to them, and there was no way to extrapolate entire people from contact with their successor—but Vlad King had a student whose head was a manga speech bubble and other abstract quirks existed.  So.  

It still didn’t feel right.  Surely, Midoriya would have figured out his quirk before he was fourteen in that case.  Unless All Might had to be involved for some reason.  

Also, the fact that they called Midoriya Nine.  Six’s explanation for that didn’t even make a little bit of sense.  

Not to even mention the hints that All for One actually was involved in this somehow.  

“Banjo-san,” said Aizawa, “there’s no truth in the commission’s accusations, is there?”  He could have asked Six, but logically, Six would be the best liar, if he was the one chosen to relay the lie.  Banjo Daigoro seemed rather less adept at deception.  

The world seemed to gray out a bit.  “Are you kidding me?  What part?” asked Five, his eyebrows disappearing under his goggles.

“Yeah, sensei, there’s no way Izuku-k—”

“I’m not asking about Midoriya.  I’m asking about you.  How are you connected to All for One?”

Five opened his mouth, lips drawing back to reveal his teeth. He looked unspeakably offended.  “You don’t think we actually work for that bastard—”

“Excuse me, sir!” interrupted Iida after Five had tacked on several rather fouler epithets.  “There are minors present!”

“Oops,” said Five.  “Anyway, we do not work for All for One,” he continued, failing to answer the question Aizawa had asked.  

“That isn’t what he asked,” said Todoroki.  

Alright.  Maybe Todoroki wasn’t all bad.  He was still on thin ice.  

“Excuse me, is this a bad time?”

Aizawa nearly jumped out of his skin as a terrifyingly tall man in a hero costume appeared at the edge of his peripheral vision.  He was taller than Yagi.  

Actually, wait.  Aizawa’s expert eyes roamed over the man’s hero costume.  That was cosplay, not professionally done.  The man was standing there, in Midoriya’s head, in front of two professional heroes, wearing cosplay.  It looked like it had been hand-sewn.  

It also looked like it had been used.  And inexpertly reinforced.  Even for a vigilante.

Somehow, in retrospect, this made Midoriya’s choice to wear a costume his mother had made for him for his first training session make much more sense.  

Of course, Midoriya would have someone as ridiculous as he was in his head.  Of course, he would have several people as ridiculous as he was in his head.

“Four, I presume.”

“I prefer Shimura, actually.”

“Oh!” said Uraraka.  “Are you related to Skyrunner?”

“She’s my adopted sister’s descendant,” said Shimura/Four.

“Hey, hey, I thought we weren’t telling them this stuff,” said Five.  

Shimura blinked.  “My apologies.”  He paused. “However, considering the structure of my mental domain, it is likely that they would have discovered my chosen name in short order.”

“Who do you think he’s based on?” asked Iida, leaning towards Todoroki.  

“I can’t put my finger on it,” said Todoroki, “but he does feel familiar.”

“And why is that?” asked Aizawa, pretending he couldn’t hear his students.  

“I have a lot of unresolved trauma relating to my biological parents and also my quirk.”

“Ohhhh,” said Todoroki.  “He’s based on me.”

Wow.  Another horrible thing Aizawa would have to deal with when he woke up.  

“Isn’t your quirk Danger Sense?”

“That’s what Five-chan calls it.”

There was something extremely disturbing about this tall, intimidating, eyebrowless man calling another muscular intimidating adult man chan.  

“But I call it—”

“Please don’t—” interjected Five.

“—super anxiety.”

“Why?” cried Five.  “Danger Sense is a much better name!  It’s like Spidey Sense!  Like Spider Man!  You like Spider Man.”

“Yes,” said Shimura, “but I am not Spider Man.  However, that reminds me.”  He turned his unblinking gaze towards Todoroki.  “Nine-chan has several plans for removing your father. I believe only about half of them are workable, but it’s the thought that counts.  At least, that’s what Yagi-chan says.”

“You mean All Might?” asked Aizawa.  If his soul hadn’t already left his body, it would now be preparing to do so.

“No, my wife.”

“Yeah, don’t think about it too hard,” said Five.  “He’s always been like this.  I mean, he came up to me in the middle of this convention to tell me about a bunch of underworld deals going on out of town.  I thought he was, like, some especially serious cosplayer, but then he showed up at my apartment, too.”  The surroundings briefly shimmered into something that might have been the mentioned apartment before resolving themselves back into the comic convention.

“I apologize, I did not realize that was inappropriate.”

“I’m this little baby hero, just a couple years out of training, no name for myself, and this guy shows up like he’s in the middle of one of those old video games.  Like, ‘here, take this old legend and defeat the demon king, you level one peasant.’”

“I didn’t expect you to fight him right away,” said Four, looking both vaguely offended and confused, and now, yeah, okay, Aizawa could see a vague resemblance to Todoroki.  

“I’m still not entirely sure why you picked me, of all people.  There had to be a dozen others with the right, uh, requirements.”

“Requirements, huh?” asked Aizawa, having finally managed to shove the part of his brain screaming about the ‘wife’ comment into a tiny, locked box in the back of his brain.

“Yes.  As my other adoptive sister said, one must possess a strong will, an indomitable spirit, a sharp mind, a pure heart, and a ceaseless drive to save others, both body and soul.”  He paused for a moment.  “She also said something about being ‘just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing,’ but I believe that was a reference to the book she was reading at the time. Her parentage was certainly known at that point.”

“Y’see?  I can never tell if this guy is serious or just pulling my leg.”

“Why would I pull your leg?  Do you need to pop it?”

“I’m beggin’ you, man, learn some idioms.”

“WAIT!” shouted Todoroki.  “Are you related to All Might?  Is he your secret love child?”

The silence stretched between them.  

“I don’t know what that is,” said Four.  “You keep asking Nine if he’s one of those.  What does it mean?  Is it a good thing?”

“ANYWAY,” said Five, loudly.  He attempted to prop his elbow on Four’s shoulder, but the height difference defeated him.  “Four and I had lots of semi-legal adventures—”

“No, we didn’t,” said Four.

“Became best friends—”

“My wife is my best friend.”

“Let me have this.”

“Have what?”

Five sighed.  “Okay, whatever.  Fine. Can you cross them over here?”

“I think I’ll need the other one, unfortunately.”

“Why are you different, by the way?” asked Uraraka.  “The ones before stayed in their own mindscapes, it seemed.”

“Oh,” said Four.  “I’m having flashbacks.  Because of…” He trailed off, then sighed.  “Flashbacks.”

Right.  Wonderful. “We’re going to have to deal with your flashbacks, aren’t we?” Aizawa asked.  

“Unfortunately, yes,” Four said.  “I apologize for my habit of oversharing.”

“This and that are two completely different things.”

“They seem like the same thing to me,” said Todoroki.  

“I am inclined to agree.  I also apologize for the things you may see.  I will attempt to keep you away from the more disturbing sections.”

“Great,” said Aizawa.  “Can we stop wasting time?”

“We aren’t really wasting time,” said Four.  “At the moment, dream time is compressed.  We’ve only been talking for…”  He tilted his head to the side.  “Perhaps a second, in terms of real-world time.”

“He’s right,” said Five, crossing his arms and nodding.

“Seconds are still time,” said Aizawa, hoping they’d get the hint.

“I suppose—Oh.  You’re frustrated.  Apologies. Neither of us have interacted with anyone but the others in…  Quite some time.  I fear our sense of hurry has been damaged.  Especially with how distracted we all are.”

“Why are you distracted, if you don’t mind us asking?” asked Iida.  

“Another unwanted guest is trying to get in and Nine and Ei—Nine managed to run into someone extremely dangerous.”

Eight.  These people had a ‘live’ connection to All Might, too, damn it, and the blond idiot was wherever Midoriya was.  Maybe that should have reassured him, somewhat, because even if All Might was retired, he was still All Might, but, by some dark magic, when All Might and Midoriya were placed in proximity to one another, they gained the ability to spawn problems that Aizawa had never even heard of before.  

Like this one.

“Our final meeting, then?”

“I believe that would be appropriate.”

Black tentacles exploded from Five, covering the space around them.  When they receded, they were in a different place.  Underground, if Aizawa didn’t miss his guess.  A safe house of some kind?

Flickering doppelgangers of Four and Five occupied the space.  

“Why didn’t you transport us like that before?” asked Todoroki.

“Had to take the long way the first time,” said Five.  “That lady’s quirk changed some of the rules. You ready, Four?”

“Let it play out,” said Four, gazing at the static figures.

“Your choice,” said Five, shrugging.  

The ‘real’ Five and Four abruptly vanished, and the doubles started moving.  

“I suspect this is the last time we will meet,” said an older Four to a younger Five.

“Huh?  Why’s that?” said Five, twisting in his chair so that his arms rested on the top of the back.

Four stared blankly at a wall.  “Everything is coming to a head, now.  I’ve chosen to put my faith in you and the new laws.”

“Huh?”

“The last push of the old era…  My big sister would scold me for trusting you.”

“Dude, you’re not making any sense.”

“My apologies.”  Four turned to look more directly at Five.  “The new quirk laws and the establishment of the Hero Commission are steps in the right direction, as evidenced by your existence.”

“Yeaaah, sure,” said Five.  “But what does that have to do with not seeing each other again?”

“They’re not enough,” said Four.  “Even now, certain existences cannot cry out for help.  What do you do, when you can’t turn off your quirk?”

“You’re not going to go terrorist on me here, are you?” asked Five, nervously.

“No.  I just want you to be aware,” said Four.  He tilted his head to the side.  “Whenever I go home, now, there’s danger on the horizon, and I can’t tell where it’s coming from.”

“Is it him?”

“No.  I don’t believe so.”  He sighed. “I suspect it’s the Special Task Force, to be honest.”

“They were disbanded,” said Five.  “Any one of ‘em that didn’t get absorbed by the Hero Commission got let go.  Or, er, what’s the term?  Discharged.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” said Four.  “Perhaps this is simply paranoia.  I would certainly like it to be.”

“Look,” said Five.  “Maybe I can help.  You’ve never told me where y’all live, and—”

“Absolutely not.  I am quite certain that he is still monitoring me to some extent.  You do not want to be on his radar, Daigoro-chan.”

“Dude.  Why do you keep calling me that?”

“You haven’t told me to stop.”

Five sighed.  “I get it, I get it.  Just… let me know if there’s anything I can do.  I’m a hero for a reason.”

Four smiled faintly.  “I know,” he said.  “After all, I chose you.  Good luck, Daigoro-chan.  I think you’ll be able to do it.”  He started walking away, towards the door.

“You, too, old man.  Souma.”

Four stopped with his hand on the door.  

“I believe we will see each other again,” continued Five.  “Count on it!”

“In this life or the next,” agreed Four.  He opened the door.

.

As they crossed over from Five’s domain into Four’s, the dream around them did not shift seamlessly, staying in the same general location with only the details changing like it had for the others, but dissolved into something not quite like static and then blank whiteness before fading back in.

They were standing in the middle of a battlefield, a ruined landscape.

Not the ruins of a city, though, which made this only more jarring.  For all that Shouto was only a teen, he’d seen his fill of city battles.  He was used to villain fights.  

The only time he’d seen this kind of devastation in a place like this had been at the forest training camp last summer.  He swallowed, eyes rolling over uprooted and burning trees, huge craters and ruts in the soil, and the rare bit of roofing and wall. He realized, belatedly, that this must be the remains of a small, rural village.  

He stiffened at the sound of someone crying.  

“Over there,” said Uraraka, pointing.  

Shouto turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit hunched over one of corpses.  His face was shrouded in smoke.  

As he watched, he realized he wasn’t crying over a corpse. The other man was still breathing, his eyes were still open.  

(It was hard to recognize Four’s face under all those injuries.)

He stepped forward, wondering if he should help, if he even could help.  His hand passed through the man’s shoulder with no resistance.  

“Shigaraki…” said the uninjured man.  “Shigaraki Hibiki, you foolish child…”  

Shouto wasn’t the only one to gasp.

“’S not my name an’more,” rasped the injured man, Four, Shouto realized now.  “’N they gottaway, din’ they?  ‘Sworth it…”

“What do you mean, it’s not your name?  Of course it’s your name.  It’s the one I gave you.  The one you should have been born with.  It’s your name.”

“M’name’s…”  The man on the ground panted.  

“Shh, shh, don’t talk, don’t talk Hibiki, I’m sorry I snapped. Don’t worry, Daddy’s going to make it all better, son.  A healing quirk…”

“Name’s…” slurred the man.  “Shimura… Souma…  You…” He took a deep, rattling breath. “You don’t… own… me.  I’m…”  He made a sound that might have been a laugh.  “Free.”  

The scene began to go dark.  Before the last of the light was gone, the uninjured man spoke again. “Shimura,” he hissed, voice promising violence, “was it?”

.

Yagi Toshinori was having the most surreal experience of his entire life.  Considering his life included that awful college party in America, the one where he learned that One for All did not mesh well with psilocybin, that was saying a lot.

Here he was, riding on the shoulders of a man who had tried to kill him on the behalf of his worst enemy multiple times, alongside his student and successor, who was being called ‘Little Lord’ by the man carrying them. They were having an admittedly fascinating conversation about the man’s quirks, multiple, one that Toshinori was only barely keeping up with.  Two of them were being actively hunted by the government.  

That is, Toshinori, the retired professional hero, and Izuku, the licensed hero student, were on the run from the government.  Not Gigantomachia, the mass-murdering minion of All for One, who was quite possibly the evilest man alive.

(And also, possibly Izuku’s father.  But no one wanted to think about that.)

(Not to mention all the things going on in their heads.)

(This level of connection to One for All was thrilling, but also incredibly strange.)

Oh.  And they were going to one of Toshinori’s safehouses.  With Gigantomachia.  True, Toshinori hadn’t been to this one in a while, but it was still a place that was supposed to be safe, hence safehouse, and Gigantomachia was decidedly not safe.

He was also going to be difficult to get rid of, because he had a sense enhancement quirk that let him track down individuals he was familiar with from miles away.  Toshinori knew this, because Gigantomachia was currently happily telling Izuku all about it.

Surreal.  

Izuku reached over and patted him on the shoulder.  

Ah, yes, this was only made more surreal by the fact that Toshinori could feel how much pain Izuku was in, but the boy hardly showed any of it.  It made him wonder.  How often was Izuku in pain and Toshinori did not see?

Izuku patted his shoulder again, this time in a way that suggested he really wanted a hug but couldn’t give him one because he was holding onto Gigantomachia and the logistics didn’t work out.

Oh, and there was the safehouse.  

Gigantomachia let them down a short distance from the building (he claimed not to want to get to close, because he’d accidentally knocked down buildings in the past, which Toshinori could easily believe).  

The building was in better repair than Toshinori had expected after his long absence.  He fished the spare key from its hiding spot and opened the door.  

The back entry was full of people wearing black robes and skull masks, all of whom were scrubbing at bloodstains on the floors and walls.  

Izuku fixed him with a disappointed stare.  “I thought you got rid of the cultists.”

Yes, he had thought so, too.  He had, in fact, worked quite hard at getting rid of them.

“You!” shouted a cultist, pointing.  “You’re with that filthy League of Villains!”

“You killed our brothers!”

“Mutant-lovers!”

“Run?” suggested Izuku.

“Run,” agreed Toshinori.

[itmeansofthesea]

Revenge: Part 3

Whooo Lord this is a long one. Couple of things: I decided on Revenge for the name, and I need to fix the masterlist so that this is all in one place. Other than that, enjoy this little ~*~flashback~*~ and let me know if there's anything else you want to see. Enjoy!

Warnings: language, mention of a nightmare, attempted murder (nothing major), mention of corporal punishment (?)

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

1701, the Revenge

She had been in the process of studying the charts for the umpteenth time when she heard her uncle bark her name from above deck. Suppressing an eye roll (it wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful to be on the ship, she was, but her uncle could be… trying, at times), she made her way to the top and narrowly avoided running into the lanky teenager at her uncle’s side. That may have been a slight exaggeration. She narrowly avoided running into the lanky, bloody teenager that her uncle held in a viselike grip around his skinny bicep. She tried not to smirk.

“Yes, Captain?” She eyed the boy up and down, willing herself to meet and hold his steely gaze. He was covered in blood that didn’t appear to be his, but how a shrimp like that could have gotten so much blood on him that wasn't his didn’t make any sense. He didn’t look like much, but he certainly had an air of defiance about him that would either serve him well or get him killed on this ship. Alex wasn’t sure which, and for some reason she couldn’t quite place, hoped it would be the former. She could feel the kid sizing her up in turn and in response straightened herself to her full height. Not quite to his nose, but close enough. She couldn’t decide whether or not to smile and be friendly, or be a hardass and call her bluff early. She settled for a middle ground and let her eyes sparkle while her mouth stayed in a firm line.

“This is Charles Vane.” Edward Teach shoved the kid in his niece’s direction, causing him to stumble. “He’s new to the ship. Show him the ropes.” Captain Teach turned on his heel and walked away.

Charles straightened himself and met her gaze again. “Who are you?” His voice was lower than she expected it to be, and she suspected that he did it on purpose to make himself more imposing than he actually was. She could understand that. She was, after all, a teenage girl on a ship full of pirates who only took her seriously because her uncle saw promise in her and allowed her on board.

“I’m Alex, the Captain’s niece,” she extended a hand in his direction and waited for him to take it. When he didn’t, she chuckled under her breath and motioned with it for him to follow her belowdecks. He didn’t seem too keen on talking, but she was determined to learn something about the only other person who could possibly be in her age range on the ship. “How old are you?”

“Does it matter?” he grunted as he followed her down the ladder.

“I suppose not,” she replied. Unperturbed, she continued, “I’m fourteen. You seem like you would be close to my age, and it would be nice to have someone to talk to. Unless talking is against your moral code or whatever.”

Another grunt.

“How did you end up here?”

“How did you end up here?”

“My mother was the Captain’s favorite sister. She was terrified of my father and wrote to my uncle begging him to come and take me in case something happened to her. It did. My father killed my mother, my uncle killed my father, I ended up here. Came on board when I was… eight? Nine?”

It was, of course, far more complicated than that. Alex didn’t mention that when Edward Teach arrived to avenge his sister and collect his nephew, Alexander, he found a nephew named James that he didn’t know existed and a niece named Alexandra. She didn’t mention that the only reason she was brought and not her brother was because he died of tuberculosis two days after Teach arrived. That, and the fact that her mother specifically mentioned Alex, not James, although she suspected that would have been considered secondary in the long run if not for the unfortunate demise of her older brother. She also failed to mention that she actually snuck aboard, was not brought aboard, and had she not eerily resembled her mother she likely would have been tossed overboard at best or put in a boarding school and forgotten somewhere at worst. Charles didn’t need to know, and Alex wasn’t particularly interested in disclosing. As they reached belowdecks, she turned on him and raised an eyebrow, “I told you mine, you tell me yours.”

“Escaped some shit. Learned to fight. Now I’m here.” Well, it was certainly succinct and to the point. Clearly the newcomer wasn’t one for many words. Then again, depending on the definition of “shit” she supposed she wouldn’t be too much for words either.

“Fair enough.” Alex guided him to the back of the ship where a hammock was strung between two of the beams. “This one’s yours. That one’s mine,” she pointed to a hammock a couple of feet to the right. “We’re stuck back here because we’re the youngest. It’s also a form of protection since the rest of the ship is fairly open and getting caught back here means getting the shit beat out of you by Mr. Hands.” Alex noted Charles flinch slightly at the mention of the beating and wondered what he had seen to elicit that reaction. “Long and short of it is basically just stay out of the way and do what you’re told. No fighting on the ship- that waits until we get back to land. We eat and take watch in shifts. Chances are you’re stuck with me until you get the hang of life around here.” She paused to look around and then back at Charles and whispered, “You’re more or less safe here. On the ship I mean. Whatever shit you escaped, it can’t catch you here.” Alex said it with more conviction than she felt, mostly because she hoped for her own sake that it was true. She resisted the urge to touch his arm- something her mother would have done. She suppressed her own disgust at the womanly reaction to the boy; that shit gets you kicked off a ship like this. She better hold it together. The last thing she needed was her uncle hearing she was going soft. Alex straightened her shoulders. “Do you want me to leave you to settle in, or do you want to just come on and get started?”

“Let’s go,” he motioned with his head toward the door. Apparently cleaning the blood off of him wasn’t too high on his priority list. Alex simply nodded and motioned with her hand for him to go first.

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

A couple of weeks passed and Alex was no nearer learning anything about Charles Vane than she had been the day he joined the ship. He was quiet, kept his head down, his shirt on, and his meals short. While Alex studied navigation, he was off doing manual labor wherever the ship needed him. She really only saw him once he crashed into his hammock at the end of the day. Some nights he seemed to sleep well, some nights he thrashed about and nearly hit the floor. He was clearly new to the hammock sleeping life.

They would be back in Nassau the next day and Alex was ready. Couldn’t be more ready, in fact. She longed for the sand under her toes, the market with all of its shiny things… just, Nassau. Sure, it was a bit disgusting and there was a corrupt governor in charge and Alex relied on her uncle’s reputation to keep something unsavory from happening to her, but she loved it. It was so unlike her home growing up with its rules about elbows on the table and keeping up appearances. Nassau was fully, completely, and unapologetically itself- flaws and all. She could almost feel it now, the excitement from the wind in her hair and the voice from the nest crying out that they were home…

Until she all of a sudden hit the floor. The drop woke her up and she opened her eyes to find Charles hovering over her, hands moving to tighten around her throat. She could feel the panic rise in her throat, but knew that if she called out Captain Teach would undoubtably have the boy killed for daring to touch his niece. She tried to shove him off, but he was heavier than he looked and apparently the two weeks on the ship had given him more muscle than he brought with him. His fingers tightened around her throat and it took everything inside her not to scream- at him, or for help. Instead her fingers grasped above her head for the knife she kept under her hammock. It must have slid somewhere closer to the wall because Alex couldn’t find it when her fingers found its usual hiding place. The edges of her vision began to darken when all of a sudden the ship pitched to the side and threw Charles off balance just enough for her to throw him off. The hit combined with the force from the roiling ship threw him into the wall behind him where he hit his head. She crawled under the hammock, found her knife, and crawled back to him, holding the knife to his throat.

His eyes flew open, quickly registering the facts: he was on the floor, he had a splitting headache, blood was coming from somewhere on his head, his back was to the wall, and his bunkmate was holding a knife a little too close to his jugular. He swallowed thickly and held his hands up in surrender, trying to think of what he possibly could have done to find himself in this position when Alex began to speak.

“You tried to kill me,” her voice still shook a little, but she was doing her best to hide it.

“I… What?” Charles wracked his brain trying to remember when in the hell he’d tried to kill her. Sure, her chattering made it sound tempting on occasion, but he’d never actually done anything… he didn’t think.

“You tried. To kill me,” she repeated. “In your sleep just now,” she lowered the knife and placed it on the floor beside her.

Now it was his turn to feel the panic rise in his chest. He’d just tried to kill Blackbeard’s niece. Even if it was in his sleep, even if it was unintentional, he’d still tried to kill her. Word would get back to the Captain, which meant that Mr. Hands would handle the discipline- likely the lash from what he’d seen so far. Unless the Captain decided to handle this matter personally in which case-

“Hey, slow down,” Alex waved in hand in front of his eyes in an attempt to bring him back into the present. “I’m not gonna tell.” She moved from in front of him to sit beside him against the wall.

Charles felt the knot start to release from his chest. It would likely never fully leave- people who said they wouldn’t tell usually did after a while. The punishment may not be as severe as it would have been when it first happened, but he doubted that time would make too much of a difference in this case. He released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “What happened?”

Alex recounted everything to him and watched him stare straight ahead as she gave him the details. She didn’t think he would have a reaction until a couple of minutes after she finished when his shoulders began to quiver. Before long, his body wracked with quiet sobs as he curled himself into a fetal position on the cabin floor. Alex had no idea what to do, so she settled for rubbing his back like her mother used to when she was upset. Another womanly reaction, but something about this one felt different so she let it slide without too much self-loathing.

After several minutes, he began to straighten back up and lean back against the wall. “I’m sorry,” he sniffed. “I was just… back on the island.” He paused for a moment as if to gather his courage before pulling his shirt open to expose his right shoulder. “The island where I got this.” He revealed a scar burned into his shoulder, a square turned on its side with extended lines from each point.

She wanted to press for more information. How did he get it? Why did he get it? Was it because he stole something or because he killed someone? What was this island? It wasn’t New Providence Island, was it? It couldn’t be Jamaica, right?

But something told her that now wasn’t the best time, so she simply did her best to look sympathetic and give him some space. If this boy wanted to be her friend, it would have to be on his terms. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure why she apologized. She hadn’t branded him. And yet, whatever, whoever, gave him that brand gave him nightmares so terrible that he had tried to kill her in his sleep.

“Don’t be,” he put his hands on his knees and got up off the floor before extending a hand to help her up. Normally she would have shoved it away and refused to take it because it would make her look weak. This time she let her small hand fit into his to help her to her feet. Once she was steady, he dropped her hand and turned to his straighten his hammock.

“Don’t you want to clean the blood of your head?”

She received a grunt in response. She sighed and turned her back to straighten her own hammock before climbing back in to get settled. Dawn would break soon and she wanted to be as well rested as she could before landing in Nassau. Before she drifted back off to sleep, she thought she heard a quiet “thank you” from the other hammock.

[thetiredstuff]

How many Gen-Zs ship win*est? It's always been Kelios and co looking down on "stupid teenage DestieHelLErs!" It's Tumblr, not Livejournal. The movie Crush is supposed to be representative of queer Gen-Zs. And it's PG. How is lines about siblings "sixty-nining" rated PG? How does in*est fit into a movie about LGBTQIA+ culture? As if ppl don't literally call queer ppl degenerate already? One of them tweeted a gif being annoyed on Nov5 2020. So I just think they ship in*est. It's not gay rep

hi anon

that's not true tho. the ones you're talking about are the most well-known because they've been around for so long and are the loudest but there are a bunch of Gen Z's who ship them on here as well (which I know cuz I've been blocking all of them) as much as we all like to believe it's just this small group of older fans and no new fans, that isn't actually true.

Also, I watched the movie, there's a ton of dialogue about sex (straight as well as queer) that one line is honestly one of the lesser "graphic" lines/scenes in the movie.

Again, that character was written as a side character who was weird/creepy and was talking about their tumblr. Seems pretty in line with the narrative they wanted to put out for that character.

There's a ton of queer rep in the movie. i never said that that side-character is the epitome of perfect queer rep. but there's also a conversation to be had about the fact that all queer people are not the same. like people are diverse. even when a gender identity or sexuality overlaps that doesn't mean they agree on every other single thing.

+ what you're saying about those gifs: the arguably most important US election was happening at the exact same time. I remember it because I was constantly flipping back between getting ready for the destiel episode and watching the election results. When the ep aired, the election results weren't in yet but when the ep was done airing, the election results started to come in and biden won.

So i'm pretty sure that that gif was actually about the fact that nevada was taking 52 years to count their votes. especially because that writer you're talking about *only* tweeted about the elections and didn't even make any other tweet about destiel.

also both of the writers are queer. if you wanna talk about queer rep, the writers themselves being queer, writing queer stories, with queer characters makes all of that queer rep

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. VIII || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 4102 (jeez, making up for a short last episode??)

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: Breaking and entering? / underage drinking

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: Midsummers takes place as the pogues make headway in the hunt, Y/N struggles with her two friends’ enmity.

A/N: okay so longgg chapter. hope it’s not too bad, and i only hv one chapter left in my drafts so im gonna have to start writing instead of just editing... hopefully updates will stay just as frequent tho. lemme know abt tags and feedback, and pleaseeeeeee send requests!!! lockdowns giving way too much time.

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

You borrowed your dad’s car, and dressed in the simplistic, elegant dress intended for your prom back in LA, you arrived at the party. 

You found yourself surrounded in summery cocktail dresses and flower crowns, tuxedos that ranged from elegant dark blue to pastel pinks, a couple of floral patterns spicing up the mix. Soft lights hung loosely over the patio, lights hardly noticeable in the soft, bright hue of the evening, the sun yet to fall into the glittering sea stretched out from the view in the hotel. You worked your way through the silks, chiffons and satins. Drinks were pushed into your hand, tapas offered and awkward smiles shared. By the time you found Kie, you were armed with a glass of champagne and the feeling of not belonging. She laughed at your already exhausted smile, and had dragged you to find Pope. Once you were with Kie, it took twice as long to get anywhere, because everyone seemed to stop her and ask about her parents, the restaurant, or to offer criticism on her choice of friends, giving you side-eye. You were the one who spotted Pope, pointing him out and letting her drag you over to him.

“Excuse me, sir,” Kie mocked a British accent, “do we have to shuck these ourselves? ‘Cause it might mess up my costume.” 

You all laughed, hugging him in greeting. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Pope returned the joke, doing your pogue handshake.

“That accent was bad.” You shook your head.

“Yeah, it was. I was gonna let it go.” She laughed, “Y/N’s is way better.”

“Oh stop it!” you joked, in your British accent, pretending to blush, “You’re making me blush.”

“You ever seen this many kooks in one place?” Kie asked.

“Yeah, last year.” Pope grinned.

“We’re in the lion’s den.” You sighed. “Hey, have either of you heard from JJ?”

They looked at you sympathetically, shaking their heads.

“He’ll be alright.” Kie soothed. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach.” 

“In the month I’ve known him, this is the longest I’ve gone without hearing from him.” You sighed, and Pope looked down guiltily.

“This is my fault.” 

“You didn’t do this, Pope.” you assured him, “Topper almost killed you, remember? JJ chose to, you know him, always putting others first. You can’t carry the blame, that’s not fair on you.”

You turned to the noise of an applaud, seeing Sarah and her family entering. You held back a snigger at the sight of Rose’s crown, but smiled at Sarah, who smiled back.

“Here come Lord Capital and the exploiters.” Kie sighed.

“She’s definitely gonna poke someone’s eye out with that.” Pope commented, and you looked back at Rose’s headdress, this time unable to contain the giggle.

You chatted for a while longer, finishing the lavish champagne and wanting to have some fun. You had practically dragged Kie to the dance floor, making her dance with you as a steady flow of drinks passed both your systems. Eventually, she was summoned to talk with her parents, leaving you alone on the dance floor. Before long, you found yourself dancing with Sarah, spinning her round, and exaggerating the both of your moves, mocking the way the adults were dancing. You went to get a drink after a few songs, and walked straight into JJ.

He was just as surprised as you, but you reacted quickly, pulling him down into a soft kiss by his collar. You looked over your shoulder, blushing at the sight of Pope and Kie clapping and giving you thumbs up. You turned your attention to him, tracing your thumb over his split lip and the bruises on the left side of his face. The dark cut contrasted the pink of his lips, and the bruises looked a painful, mottled purple that spread over his jaw and up to his cheek bone.

“JJ,” you murmured, “Did your dad do this?” 

“My dad, got a nice right jab, ya know?” he tried to joke, seeing the worry in your eyes. The light he hoped would return to your eyes stayed gone, as anger took over your features.

“JJ, I’m gonna fucking kill him.” you seethed, “He had no fucking-”

“Y/N,” he said, cupping your face, “leave it, okay? It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

“JJ that’s not making me feel any bet-”

He kissed you again, taking you off guard, and you smiled softly when he pulled away. “I gotta go,” he mumbled, “I’ll see you in a bit, I promise, babygirl.”

You nodded dumbly as he walked away, turning back to Sarah, and seeing her wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at you. You rolled your eyes at her, making an excuse to leave, and walked over to Kie, who started pestering you for details, which you supplied. Your discussion with Kie was cut short by the sight of JJ being hauled out of the house and into the garden.

“Hey, Mr Dunleavy, I see you got your drink. Good, that’s really nice of you. I’m actually gonna down that.” he took the drink, and, well, downed it. “It’s okay everybody!” he yelled, “Do not panic. Leave it to the men and women in uniform! Let’s hear it for them!” he shouted, making you and Kie smirk, trying to hide your giggles. “Rose! You look like lady liberty. Good to see you again. Hey, buddy, can I have one of those?”

“Let go of him!” You called, working your way towards him.

“You can’t just boot him!” Kie backed you, ignoring the warning looks you were both getting from her parents. He looked up at you, a tiny smile on his face. “I invited him here! I’m a member of this club.” she continued through her parent’s protests. JJ turned and pushed the guard into the crowd, stumbling in the opposite direction.

“Sorry about that! Hey,” he pointed at you and Kie, “mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie, Y/N. Pope, you as well, alright? Rixon’s cove, let’s roll! A’ight Y/N, come on!” You grinned, he turned to Kie, “Workers of the world unite, throw off your chains!”

Kie and Pope ran ahead, both hugging John B, and you ran straight into JJ’s arms, letting him swing you around and kiss you, for once, not caring that everyone was staring.

--

“Hey, guys, so like, my dad’s already gonna kill me.” Pope said as you all settled around the campfire. “So what’s this mandatory meeting about?”

John B shot finger guns to JJ, who looked up, “Might as well tell him, man, before we’re all gaffed.”

“You ready for this? John B replied.

You and Kie looked at each other, “Yeah.” you said, in unison.

“So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant.” John B started.

“Here we go again.” You muttered, settling into JJ’s side.

“No, alright? Wait. Hear him out, alright?” JJ backed John B, and you frowned, shrugging and gesturing for him to continue.

“It’s been here the whole time. It’s on the island.”

“Are you serious?” Kie asked. “Oh my God.”

“I’d like to voice my skepticism.” Pope spoke.

“I’m sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, Sir?”

“Proceed.” Pope mocked.

“Alright, so, in my backpack, I have a letter from Denmark Tanny.” 

“Who the fuck’s that?” You questioned.

“Denmark Tanny was a slave who survived the Royal merchant wreck. Check this out.” he handed Kie some paper, “So slaves weren’t mentioned as crew members on the ship, but my dad, he found the complete manifest. That was his big discovery. So Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom.” Kie passed you the paper. “After that, he bought his farm. Drumroll please,” you drumrolled on your thighs, “because that farm is… Tannyhill Plantation.”

“Tannyhill?” Kie affirmed. You passed Pope the paper.

“Yeah.” John B continued, “so after that, he used his money to free even more slaves. And then he sold a shit ton of rice, which pisses off all the white planters, and then they decide to lynch him. So on the day they were coming to get him, he writes a letter to his son as a farewell, and in the last line of that letter, he leaves a coded message about where to find the gold.”

“Where?” You whisper excitedly.

“Harvest the wheat, in parcel nine, near the water. Except, there’s no wheat. You see, wheat is code for gold. Check this out.” he shows you another piece of paper, and a map. “The gold is in parcel nine, near the water.” you and Kie squeal, laughing excitedly, “All we need is an original survey map of the property, and we’ve found the gold!”

“Okay, so, this might have a small chance of actually being true.” Pope said, and JJ got up from beside you.

“Dude,” you laughed, “this is like, King Tut!” 

JJ pulled John B into a hug, lifting him up. “Hello, fire! You’re near the fire. You’re gonna burn.” John B warned, and JJ put him down. “I’m so proud of you right now.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s really sweet of you.” JJ looked at you, “And jeez, Y/N, what is it with you and Tutankhamun?”

“4th Grade history?” You guessed.

“Okay, so, guys,” Pope brought the attention back. “What’s the plan?”

“Good question.” John B agreed.

“How long does this go on for?” you moaned, “Wrap it up, JB.”

“Sarah Cameron’s coming tonight.” he simplified. “And she’ll bring the original survey.”

“Hold on.” Kie stopped him, “Sarah? Wh-why Sarah?”

“This is gonna be good.” JJ muttered, and you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Sarah, um, she - she helped me into the archives at Chapel Hill yesterday, and that’s where I got the letter.”

“You were in Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron?” Kie frowned, anger contorting her features.

“Are you guys macking?” you asked, a disbelieving smirk on your lips.

“He was mackin’ on her.” JJ confirmed, interrupting John B’s pitiful attempts at an explanation, and earning him a giggle from you.

“For real?” you asked John B.

“I wasn’t macking.” John B defended.

“You were totally macking Sarah Cameron.” JJ repeated.

“I wasn’t macking on her, okay? I was using her for access.”

“There was access, alright.” JJ mumbled, earning another giggle.

“Okay,” you piped up, “JB you should have consulted first, Kie, she obviously did something shitty, but JB, using her is pure shitty, so you better just be covering for yourself right now.”

He looked at you defeated, and you groaned. “Did you tell her about the treasure?” Kie asked.

“I was just trying to get into the archives!”

“Is that a yes?”

“I left out key details!”

“Yo, what? You let a kook in on our secret? What about Pogue Lyfe? What about the t-shirt company, bro?”

“I was just using her for information.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“I’m tryna make us filthy rich here! Okay, so that we can pay off a boat, or - or, uh, send you to autopsy school to study dead bodies! Look, you guys know me! Do I look like the kind of person who would fall for Sarah Cameron?”

You and JJ made eye contact, “well..” you started.

“Um.” he chuckled.

“Do you want us to answer that, or-”

“Just - just stop.” John B looked at the pair of you, defeated.

“Look, you don’t know her yet, I do! You can’t trust her!”

“Her brother did hit me in the back with a golf club.” Pope pointed out.

“Rafe and Sarah are different human beings.” John B countered.

“What did she do to you, exactly?” you asked Kie, wandering how she could hate your friend so much.

“She’s like a - a spitting cobra. First she - first she blinds you and then she-”

“This is a bad analogy.” you mumbled.

“Listen to me!” Kie demanded, “Whatever we get, she’s gonna try to take.”

--

You and JJ were lying on your bed, not having bothered to get changed before getting under the covers. You interlocked your fingers with his, snuggling closer, your eyes barely open. “What do you think Sarah did?”

JJ turned his head to look at you, he could tell it was tearing you up. “I… don’t know.” JJ sighed, defeated. “I’ve known Kie for years, and she’s never talked about it.”

“Sarah was super kind to me, I don’t understand why Kie is so against her. It’s so shitty, ‘cause they’re both my friends, and I want them to get on, but they obviously won’t.”

“They might?” JJ muttered, thinking.

“C’mon, Jay, you know it’s impossible. And I don’t even know what happened between them, so I can’t fix it.” 

“You know it’s not up to you to fix it, right?”

“So why do I feel like I have to?”

“Because you’re an empathetic, kind, brilliant person?”

“Jay,” you groaned, as he kissed you, “Be serious!”

“I am.” he mumbled, kissing you again.

“You’re infuriating,” you giggled, “you know that?”

“It’s all part of my brand.”

“Your brand?”

“Oh yeah, super-hot surfer pogue, insanely funny, get’s the best weed on the island, you know, the usual.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Hey! At least I have a brand!”

“Is that a comment aimed at me?” you mocked offence.

“I mean, your brand is ‘mysterious new girl’.”

“You think I’m mysterious?”

“I mean, yeah, none of us know, like, why you moved or anything about you.”

Your heart twinged, but you covered for yourself, mocking him, “It’s all part of my brand.”

--

“I’m sorry, you’re staying where?” Kie passed John B to get to the bar, the group having gathered in the Wreck.

“Tannyhill.” John B repeated, and you shook your head, disbelieving.

“So you’re living with Sarah Cameron?”

“Okay, look, the only reason I’m living there is because her dad bailed me out, right?”

“I still can’t believe you got pushed off that wooden frame thing.” You muttered, and he smirked, fighting down a laugh as you and Kie went to the group’s table.

“And it’s way better than foster care,” he continued, “which, by the way, where I was about to go if Ward didn’t-”

“Hey, so do you have membership to the clubs now?” Pope asked.

“I don’t know, Pope.”

“What about those little golf carts that they drive around?” JJ added, “You get one of them?”

“Does it come with a sweater-vest, or do you have to buy one of those on your own?” You add.

“Look, you promised.” Kie brought the focus back, like always. “You said you weren’t with her.”

“Bro, just own it.” JJ backed, “She got you.”

“Look if you wanna hang out with her, that’s fine.” Kie sighed, “I mean, Y/N sometimes hangs out with her. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m not doing anything with Sarah.”

“Do you guys see her here?” John B pointed out, “No, right. Okay. A little focus would be fantastic. We’ve got the map, right?”

“It’s all out of whack ‘cause the guy was ganja’d when he drew it.” JJ commented.

“No,” you corrected, “the coastline changed, dummy.”

“So we just have to look for landmarks that haven’t changed.” Pope clarified.

“What about the old forts?” John B suggested.

“You know, the more you guys talk, the more I realise that I know nothing about this island.” You observed, treasuring the feeling of JJ running a hand through your hair.

“Battery Jasper.” Kie pointed.

“Let’s go.” you  stood up, leading the group out to the VW.

John B drove, none of you really paying attention until you reached the landmark.

The five of you looked out over the island, expansive green leading to expansive blue, you were at a high point. “We’re in battery, right here.” Pope points on the map. “So if this is parcel nine, then it’s somewhere northeast of here.”

“Somewhere over there.” Kie points, and you take JJ’s juul off him, taking a puff, then handing it back.

“Over there?” JJ followed the point. “Guys, that’s not Tannyhill, that’s a subdivision.”

“Tannyhill Plantation used to be the entire island.” reminded John B. “It got sold into smaller pieces over time.”

Pope inspected the map again, “So we’re just looking for an old stone wall.”

You ventured back to the Twinkie, following Pope’d instructions, again. John B took a sharp left, pulling up next to an overgrown stone wall.

“That looks like a stone wall to me.” JJ said, almost proud.

“This is it.” Pope confirmed. Your car doors clattered open as you hopped out of the car.

“Not the Crain House.” John B sighed.

“Are you kidding me?” Kie repeated the sentiment.

“Worst case scenario.” JJ confirmed.

“Why’d it have to be here of all places?” Pope asked.

“Hang on a second.” You turned to your friends, your lack of apprehension standing out in the group. “It’s just a house. What’s the big deal?”

“I heard Mrs Crain buried her husband’s head on the property.” JJ told you. You all looked at him, the other’s in fear, you in skepticism.

“Well that’s bullshit.” you shrugged, taking a hold of the top of the wall and pulling yourself up, throwing your legs over and landing in the overgrown thicket. You pricked yourself in the brambles, and swore. The pogues on the other side of the wall immediately started asking if you were okay, making you giggle. “Just be careful of the brambles.”

Once they were all on the inside, you began to venture inwards. “Look, Y/N, you know whose house this is, right?”

“Some old lady’s?” you guessed, and were greeted with four unimpressed stares.

“Honestly, I don’t really believe the stories of this place.” John B joined your skepticism, but was shushed by Pope.

“Which stories did you hear?” JJ asked Kie.

“The one where she killed her husband with an axe and that she’s been holed up ever since.” said Kie, making you snort. “On certain nights, when the moon is full…”

You saw where it was going, and joined in with Kie’s mockingly spooky hand movements as she finished, “... you can see her in the window!” the pair of you giggled.

“No, girls, it’s not funny, ‘cause it’s all true.” JJ shook his head, as you and Kie made ‘Waah’ noises. “I swear to God guys, this is all real. I knew Hollis. Jeez!”

You smirked, “Yeah, jeez. Who knew you were superstitious? And who’s Hollis?”

“Wait, you knew Hollis Crain?” asked Pope.

“Who’s Hollis?” you repeated, ignored again.

“Yeah, dude.” JJ confirmed.

“Dude, how do you know Hollis Crain?”

“Dude, who is Hollis Crain?” you mocked Pope’s anxious movements.

“She was my babysitter, man. She told me all about it.” He looked around the group, “She told me the truth… about her mother and what happened in this house.”

“And what would that be?” You asked, still skeptical as you looked up to the unkempt house.

“So as a kid, she heard all the stories that her mother killed her father, and she was a murderer and all. Hollis didn’t believe it. Until that night.”

“What night?”

“It all came back to her.” JJ turned to look at the house, “When Hollis was six years old, she heard her parents arguing downstairs. So she goes downstairs to see her mom washing her hands in the sink full of blood. Her mother just says that she cut her finger. The next morning, she says her father and her split up. But then, Hollis noticed something. Her mother going into the parlour constantly, in and out and in and out with plastic bags. Weeks pass, and Hollis decides to use the outhouse. And as she’s using it, she looks down, and there, in the outhouse, is her father’s head, looking straight back at her.”

“God, you are so full of shit.” you and John B outburst in unison.

“Dude, I swear to God, man.” JJ shook his head.

“Did she call the police?” Pope asked.

“She didn’t have time.” you and John B started to walk on, only to be grabbed and pulled back by JJ.

“What?” you asked, confused. He turned to John B.

“You sure you wanna do this? She’s an axe murderer. You got a cast on.”

“I don’t give a shit if she’s an axe murderer, okay? I got nothing to lose, right? You comin’, or what?”

You follow John B through the garden, and he gathers you in a semicircle. “So here’s the plan. We need to look for the wheat near the water like it said in Denmark’s letter.”

“Okay, like, what kind of water?” asked Pope, “Like, pond water?”

JJ chuckled, “Bong water?” you slapped his arm lightly.

“It just said look for water, okay?”

“That’s the shittiest secret message ever.” Kie moved past John B.

“You wanna complain a little more, Kie? Nobody said it was gonna be easy.”

“I’ll search the northeast quadrant,” Pope started, addressing you and JJ, “you two search the northwest.”

“The decapitation quadrant?” JJ objected, and you took his arm, pulling him with you.

You scanned your area, coming up empty, then followed John B into the basement. You went in before JJ, who started singing a song about how Mrs Crain was going to kill you all.

You and Pope turned, shining your torches in his face.

“Can you stop?” You hissed, and he shut up.

You swung the torch light over the room, the broken and discarded furniture giving the room a horror-movie vibe. You’d never admit it, but you were beginning to feel creeped.

“This is the part of the movie where we get attacked by the old, half-dead blind lady.” You muttered, and JJ nodded, gesturing to you as if you had predicted the future, the others rolling their eyes.

“See any water?” Kie asked, five torches sweeping around the place. You felt a tickle on your arm and slapped, your palm coming away with the brown stain of squished insect. “Another dead end?”

JJ ran his hand on the pipes, “There’s not even water on the pipes.”

“There’s no water here.” Pope confirmed as you slapped another bug, noticing that it was a mosquito.

“Not a dropamino.” JJ continued.

“Know why we didn’t find it?” Kie piped up, “Bad karma.”

“Oh, God, here we go.” John B muttered.

“You know, we had a good thing going. And then you decide to rope in Barbie, and now the trail’s gone dry.”

“Literally,” smirked, “there’s no water.”

“Coincidence?” Kie continued as Pope and JJ sniggered, “Probably not.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you about Sarah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell’s the deal? What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Is it because I kissed you? Is that the problem?”

Your eyes widened, your mouth forming a little ‘o’ as Kiara slapped him, JJ and Pope both calling out in surprise.

“Stop treating me like I’m some girl that’s obsessed with you instead of your best friend who’s actually trying to look out for you.”

The pair of them started bickering, slapping each other, using skeeters as excuses. You slapped your leg, seeing the brown stain of a mosquito, again.

“Why the fuck are there so many mosquitoes?” you fumed, slapping yourself again.

“Dude, I know, seriously. Tiny little vampire bats, just leave me alone.” JJ added, the pair of you slapping again, and again, and again. “Oh my gosh, can we leave? ‘Cause I’m already itchin’ to leave. Haha, punny.”

You looked at Pope, who was staring at the floor, his torch shining over it. You both stomped on the ground hearing the hollow sound as JJ tried to show you ‘Mrs Crain’s voodoo doll’. You picked up a stone, dropping it through the crack in the floorboards, and hearing the ‘plop’ as it landed in water. You and Pope scrambled, pushing the loose bits of wood out of the way to lift the board, opening up the well. Pope shone his torch down.

“Well, well, well.” he joked.

“Water great discovery.” You added.

“Great dad jokes, guys.” John B sighed.

“They built this part of the house right over it.”said Kie.

“This is where she hid the bodies.” JJ nodded.

“JJ, just stop.” You shook your head.

“No, I’m dead serious.”

“Yeah, you will be, because I’m seriously considering pushing you down that well.”

“It was never an outhouse.” JJ continued.

“She probably doesn’t even know it’s here.” Kie shrugged.

“So, we found water.” Pope looked to John B.

“We’re gonna need a really big rope.”

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @lolitstiana @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @teamnick @thoughtsofthestars @obxmxybxnk @jjmaybankswife @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @sxcretinhuman @alexa-playafricabytoto @angvelics @badwolf00593 @coloradogirl07 @mendesmaybank​ @jiaraendgame