#was so grateful he wore the safety glasses again and i could take the one in the c*p outfit out of here bc it was pissing me off!!!

[yangjeongin]

HYUNJIN BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN (2023 EDITION) ↘ D-2 | favorite hyunjin looks of the year

[missymurphy1985]

The Extra (part 2)

Warning - smut (eventually....)

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton

You were finishing up your coffee, grateful that Cillian didn't hang around after grabbing his. Suddenly you heard Anto shouting in the yard outside. You told Liane you'd find her later, and headed out to him. He was pacing the grounds on his phone, the anger evident in his face. With an abrupt "Fuck you!" down the line, he hung up, kicking a rock across the courtyard in frustration.

"Anto? What's wrong?" You approached nervously.

"We start filming in three hours, and one of the cast had dropped out!!"

"What? Who?"

"Rachel Foster. She was supposed to play Tommy Shelby's girl."

"Oh shit.."

"Oh shit in-fucking-deed. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?! I can't call someone in at this short notice!"

"I don't know anyone who's even available.." he suddenly looked at you, you squirmed a little, you recognised that look.

"You know, it's not too late to reconsider my offer y/n."

"Anto we talked about this, I'm not an actress."

"But you used to be! And you were the best I knew!"

"When you offered me a role in this I was flattered beyond belief, I truly was, but my role is as a professor now, not an actress. I gave that all up nearly a decade ago!"

"Think about it - you're here anyway! She was only meant to film this week, it's a few scenes with Tommy, nothing major.. she's not even lasting the whole series it's just a few scenes I swear it. At least let me do a casting call with you? I'll pay you for your time, even if you don't want to do it? It's win-win! I'm desperate here y/n..."

You thought about it. You enjoyed the theatre shows you used to be involved in years ago so much, but then you were offered the job at Birmingham University and it was too good an opportunity to miss - a steady wage, guaranteed income.. the thought of going back to being a struggling actress made you very nervous.

"One casting call. If it doesn't work, I'm out and you'll have to find someone else Anto."

"Oh you fucking legend... You BEAUTIFUL legend!!!" He scooped you up and spun you round in a circle, before dragging you over to costume and makeup.

An hour later, you were in costume, hair done, makeup on, ready for the camera. You stood in the set for the Garrison, Anto giving you the once over for the short scene he'd got planned for the casting call.

"Anto you didn't say anything about kissing Tommy!" You groaned, reading the paper he handed you.

"It's one kiss - we need to make sure you have chemistry. You know these scenes are always filmed first y/n."

"You fucking owe me Byrne." He grinned his cheesiest grin yet, allowing you time to get to know your lines and the scene. You were lost in it, focussing on getting yourself into a character for the first time in years.

"Y/n?" An Irish brogue suddenly dragged you out of your prep, and you nearly dropped the whiskey glass you were holding as you were practising a scene.

"Holy fuck..."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you - " he held out his hand, chuckling at your outburst. "I'm Cillian. I'll be playing Thomas Shelby."

"I, uh, I know who you are, I'm Y/n..."

"I know, Anto tells me you're Rachel's replacement? Really appreciate you stepping in like this, I know it's all a bit weird. Just take your time, okay? There's no rush, and no pressure to get it perfect, just relax. I know how intense these things can be."

"Thank you. I'm sorry if I'm shit..." You laughed, your stomach in knots.

"You won't be! You wanna stop at any point, tell me. No pressure, remember that. I'm looking forward to it."

"To what? Me throwing a whiskey glass at you?"

"No, not that bit," he smiled, his blue eyes glittering in the stage lights behind you.

"Right then you two, are you ready?" Anto called, and you pulled yourself together. Taking a deep breath, the scene began.

"You promised me Thomas. You said you were going legit!! Now I find out you have guns hidden away from the fucking IRA??"

"Clara, you have to trust me! I AM going legit but I need money behind me to do it - this is our way out of here!"

"You're a fucking liar Shelby. Four years I waited for you. Four fucking years you wrote to me promising me a life of safety, no more having to watch our backs, no more Peaky fucking Blinders, and you lied through your fucking teeth!" You threw the glass, missing his face by a mere inch.

He ducked, and approached you carefully, hands out to catch your arms as they flailed around. A sudden flick of your wrist in the wrong direction caught him off guard and you hit him. Full force on the side of his cheek.

"Oh fuck!! Shit I'm so sorry!!"

"Quite the left hook you've got there!!" He laughed, regaining his composure, rubbing his face. A decent shade of red now blossoming across his cheek. Anto was in stitches the other side of the camera and you shot him a glare.

"I can't believe you've just smacked the star of the fucking show!" He laughed.

"You're certainly feisty enough for Clara's character, I'll give you that!" Cillian smirked. You were mortified.

"I really am sorry..."

"No harm done, I'm fine. I've had worse. Come on, let's finish this yeah?" You were convinced you'd screwed it up, but Anto calling Action brought you back into the scene.

Cillian cleared his throat and approached you again, you could see him trying not to laugh though and you couldn't help but giggle a little, which set him off too.

"I'm sorry, really I am!" You panicked.

"That was my fault, I was too busy watching her arms!" Cillian smiled.

"Guys I really like what I'm seeing here. There's definitely chemistry on screen. Why don't you two go rehearse a little more together and come back in 30 minutes?" Cillian nodded and turned to you.

"Fancy a coffee?" He asked. You nodded and he led you over to the trailers behind the set.

"Are we not going to the cafeteria?"

"Not unless you want to rehearse in front of your Uni class?" He smirked. You shook your head and followed him into a decent sized trailer at the back. He flicked the kettle on, telling you to take a seat while he made the coffee.

"So why did you give up the theatre? You're clearly very good, else Anto wouldn't have requested you?"

"It wasn't going anywhere. I was in the West End, Broadway, Galway.. just seemed to be bouncing around with no real direction. I wanted to get into film or TV work but the roles were in high demand. And it became very clear very quickly that I wasn't the right kind of actress the movie makers wanted as a leading lady."

"Really? Why?"

"I wasn't prepared to get my tits out at every audition like the others I guess?" You shrugged. "I auditioned for a horror movie once in Hollywood. Some big budget thing that never ended up happening anyway, but the director wanted me to audition in this skimpy little dress - barely covered my ass never mind my thighs. Wouldn't audition me unless I wore it, so I threw it at him and walked out. Kinda blacklisted from then on."

"That's horrendous? Which director?"

"Cant even remember his name now it was so long ago. It doesn't matter anyway, the movie was scrapped before production and I landed the job at the university. Secure, stable, good money - couldn't ask for more really. And the kids are so great, Cillian, full of passion and enthusiasm! They're so inspiring they really are!"

"I'm meeting some of them later, I'm looking forward to it. My youngest wants to get into the industry. Been trying to put him off for years but he's such a little showman. Exactly like I was at his age."

"Is that Jack?" You asked.

"Yeah. His mam is keen on him getting into it but she hated me going off for months on end filming. One of the reasons she divorced me last year."

"I heard about that. I'm sorry.."

"No don't be! We get on better now than we ever have. Only stayed together for the kids you know? Milk and sugar?" You nodded, and he handed you the cup.

"This scene is awkward, I've never done a scene like this before," you confessed, taking a sip.

"Like what?"

"A kiss? How do you kiss someone without actually kissing them?"

"You just do it, I guess. Once you're in character it just happens. I won't use tongues I promise - nothing personal, it's just one of my rules."

"That makes it less awkward I suppose!"

"Exactly. Although didn't stop Scarlett Johansson that one time... Nearly got me shot by the wife that one did!" You remembered that scene in Girl with a Pearl Earring and laughed.

"You know, I've learned over the years that if you do those scenes first it makes all the others much easier," he said, putting his coffee down and taking yours from you, placing it on the table next to his. He took your hands and stood you up in front of him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to kiss you."

"What?"

"Not like that, I'm going to 'movie-kiss' you. Show you how it's done. Trust me - you won't feel awkward after this."

"I beg to differ..."

"Come on y/n, what have you got to lose?" My senses? You thought. My mind, maybe? You were hesitant, massively hesitant. You weren't even sure you were even going to go through with this. He glanced at his watch.

"We have five minutes, close your eyes and trust me." He nodded at you, and you took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

His fingers back on your cheek, this was just a reenactment of the scene but those fingers felt like lightening bolts. You could sense him moving closer, and his lips brushing yours. You were almost frozen to the spot until he whispered for you to relax.

"Okay, okay... I'm relaxed.. try again.." he leaned in again, your lips meeting properly. His hand in the back of your hair pulling you a little closer. You fell into it, your hands reaching round his back. As promised, he didn't use his tongue, which felt really strange at first but you quickly got used to it. Your mouths meshed together perfectly as you found your rhythm. A few minutes of this, before he pulled away, another gentle kiss against your lips as he did.

"Wow..." You gasped, opening your eyes. If someone had told you this morning you'd be kissing Cillian Murphy by lunchtime you'd have had them commited to the local loony bin, yet here you were. He didn't speak, and his hand was still on your cheek, brushing it lightly.

"Didn't plan on making you blush so much."

"Didn't plan on kissing Cillian Murphy when I woke up this morning," you laughed.

"Ready to do that again?"

"Again?"

"Just to make sure we got it right, of course."

"Yes.. of course.." he moved in quickly, but it felt different this time. His lips crashed against yours, and you definitely felt his tongue brush your lips a couple of times but you didn't reciprocate. You both moved backwards, your thighs hitting the table behind you, coffee nearly spilling over.

"Fuck, you okay? I'm sorry.." he pulled away to make sure none had spilled on you.

"I'm fine, it didn't fall, I'm fine... I uh, I think we've got the kiss nailed down though..." You brushed your hair out of your face and looked to the floor.

"Yeah, I think you're right.." your eyes met again and you both smiled. Before he could speak though, Anto was at the door knocking.

"Ready for round 2 guys?" He called. Cillian nodded at you, and you nodded back, both of you heading out to try the scene again.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Only You

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Even though the odds seemed to be stacked against the two of you, you always find little moments.

Warnings: mild angst, fluff and kisses

(not my gif)

The lavishly designed ballroom was filled with just about every Slytherin within the wizarding world, the select ones chosen by his mother anyway, joined together for no particular reason other than to bask in their luxuries. Above all else, this carefully chosen group of individuals felt as though they were superior despite the events of the war.

Draco has stopped believing that thought to be true long before this night, having little to no interest in subjecting himself to thoughtless conversation with his parents many acquaintances. Especially not when such conversations inevitably carry the undesirable subject of the Dark Lord. He never wanted to utter a word about him. As far as he was concerned, the war concluded nearly five years ago and the threat was gone. He found there to be no reason to talk about him anymore. Not one of them had ever asked how he had been doing, or anything personal about him for that matter. Though with more thought, he doesn’t believe he’d ever divulge that information to them.

He wanted nothing to do with this, wanted to strip away his title as the Slytherin Prince and the awful mark on his arm that came with it. It wasn’t worth it in the slightest. However, his parents were not privy to this information, nor had they asked if he wanted any of this. He didn’t hold any malice toward Slytherin as a whole, but the things it’s put him through were something he’ll never forget.

He finds he’s grateful these kinds of events are very few and far between, but there’s never specific dates set in stone for them. It always takes him by surprise whenever his mother appears in his bedroom doorway informing him of such a thing, telling him to wear his best suit and not to leave his hair be as unruly as it had currently been. They’re the only times of the year that the Manor isn’t filled with silence save for the ticking of the clocks and the tap of his fathers unnecessary walking stick. He’d prefer it to this. The silence is much less nauseating than the constant clinking of glasses and humorless laughter, but it seemed to be of the few things keeping Narcissa happy while her husband was in Azkaban. He’d much rather hide away in the privacy of his room with a book than to be there, he’d only been standing along the same wall for the last forty-five minutes anyway.

Though subtly, he could sense something different, whether everyone else had been aware of it he wasn’t sure. But he knew exactly the cause and he found himself setting down the overly expensive goblet he drank from on a nearby table, slipping out of the large room with a cautious gaze over his shoulder. Not a single person had batted an eye at his absence, not that he expected them to. For being so important as the Malfoy heir, no one ever seemed to notice him.

His strides were quick and purposeful as he navigated the dimly lit halls, gaze flickering around every darkened corner he passed by. Nothing ever seemed to make him feel quite so excited as you did, even if your visits were far riskier for your safety than he’d like. But his heart leapt in his chest in anticipation as his instincts lead him where to go, hoping you’d actually be there rather than his gut feeling being false. Though any break, large or small, from that terribly boring formal event was one that would suffice. But he’d rather it be with you. He’d always rather be with you.

Arriving at the large mahogany double doors, he gave one final look at his surroundings for wandering gazes and prying eyes. He made his leave through the door on the right hand side to be specific, having learned from his numerous late night rendezvous’ that the left has got the noisy hinges.

He made his way down the old stone steps, taking in the expanse of the garden before him as the fresh air hits him. It takes a bit of searching before he spots what he’s looking for.

There you stood, hand lightly sweeping along the delicate petals of the numerous flowers residing in the large garden. Your dress was rather fitting for the summer evening, flowing and casual, holding far more color than the sea of dark green and black attire filling the entirety of that ballroom. It was a contrast to the suit he wore, which was comparable to the night sky he stood beneath.

“Love?”

You turned around, smiling warmly at the sight of your beau. The space between you was quickly closed as you rushed over, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What are you doing here?” He continues, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind your ear with a gentle swipe of his fingertips before he settles his hand to rest on your cheek. He watched as your expression changed from fond to that of a playful one.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t want to see me,” you say, tilting your head to the side with a raised brow. His expression was quick to change at your words, eyes widening a fraction in mild panic.

“No!” He rushes, pressing a kiss on your lips that was very much not rushed, rather one of reassurance as his fingers splayed across your cheek. “All I want is to see you. But if anyone finds you here, I don’t know what would—”

His flustered explanation is promptly silenced by your lips once more, any form of tension beginning to dissipate from his body as he relishes this very moment. One he feels is over too soon when you part, a teasing smile on your lips.

“That always seems to be an effective way of shutting you up,” you quip as you laugh softly, tracing the pad of your thumb along his lightly flushed cheeks. Despite the very cute fact that he was blushing, he rolls his eyes at your very true remark, resting his forehead on yours. “Besides, the moment you told me about that ball it was all the more reason to come and see you.”

His smile is almost unseen in the close proximity, his arms encircling your waist in an embrace so tight it sends you stumbling back a step or two with a squeal. Soft kisses were peppered on your neck, leaving hushed laughter in their wake. He basked in your very presence, soaking in every second he had with you as if it was his last, all while hoping there’d never be a last to worry about.

“I believe I’m supposed to be the knight in shining armor saving you, not the other way around,” he says with a soft smile when he looks at you again. The moonlight makes his gray eyes sparkle, his platinum hair seeming silver-like in the natural lighting. He seemed to have abandoned his mother’s wishes of styling his hair for the event. Regardless, the happiness adorning every inch of his face was something only reserved for you.

“When have I ever followed the rules?”

He gives you a fond look in answer as his smile widens, letting go of your hands and you frown as he leaves your side momentarily. You watch as he inspects the vast floral arrangement in front of him, and he plucks a single flower from its rightful spot amongst a sea of others similar to it, offering it to you with a softer grin. It was not a rose, he felt that would be too cliche. He didn’t know the specific name for this one but it was not a rose. His mother wouldn’t notice just one flower missing, at least he’d hoped not. But the way you beamed at him made any and all repercussions worth it should there be any.

The flower was bright, it’s petals colorful and ruffled and rather beautiful. He felt it was symbolic to you. Of the light you brought to his life, making his otherwise black and white outlook on the world turn to one that’s full of color and promise. And of course he thought you were the most beautiful person he has and ever will lay his eyes on. To him that was a known fact, one that was not open for debate.

He watched as you smelled it, a pale blush just barely visible coloring your cheeks at the sweet gesture.

“Do you know what a pink hydrangea means, Draco?” You ask softly, your arms resting around his neck.

You always seem to know a little something about everything, he thinks to himself.

“Do enlighten me, love,” he murmurs distractedly, his breath tickling just under your ear.

You laugh quietly at the sensation, your heart fluttering when he pressed a chaste kiss there. It had stolen your train of thought for only a brief moment, his mere presence intoxicating, but the delicate flower in your hand quickly jogged your memory. “When given to someone, a pink hydrangea is said to symbolize sincere emotion and love.”

He pulled back to look at you, a gentle smile adorning his lips as his eyes took in every inch of your face. The rosy tint in your cheeks deepened a shade as his thumb traced along the curve of your bottom lip, his eyes glinting with what could only be adoration.

“I knew I was drawn to it for a reason,” he says, dropping his hand to envelop your own. The cold metal of his ring sent a shiver along your spine despite the warm summer evening. “Because sincerely, darling, I am completely and madly in love with you.”

Without hesitation, you lean on your toes and press your lips on his, fingers carefully tangling in the platinum hair at the nape of his neck. It felt as though your heart was bursting in your chest, set aflame at his very words. Or how it somersaulted as he held you as close as he possibly could.

“I love you,” he whispers between soft kisses, again and again, until he’s too breathless to continue.

“I love you,” you murmur with a kiss to his nose, then to his cheek, and another to his lips. “Completely.”

The blush traveling up his neck is immediate, his toothy grin a rare sight in recent days but it was one you never failed to bring out. He never fully understood how he deserved the affections of someone he deemed to be the most wonderful person he’s ever known, he knows he’ll never grasp that concept. But it’s one he finds himself fortunate for with every day that passes with you.

The echoed sound of his name tugs him from his lovestruck daze and has him turning to look over his shoulder, dread pulling at his heart when he turns back to you. He grasps your hands in his own with a lingering squeeze, sighing deeply as he gazes at you. “Wait here for me?”

In that moment, he swears to himself to start looking for other places to reside in, perhaps a place of your own now that you were no longer just two kids in love. Surely he had enough savings to do so because he was growing tired of loving you in secret.

You nod at the soft question, a silent promise and he kisses you once more. He’s unwilling to let you go, always was, but moments pass before he finally does and he turns away as he walks. Though he finds himself looking back to cast one last glance your way before apparating to a place much less obvious to the person who’d called him, hoping his kiss swollen lips aren’t terribly noticeable.

No matter who disapproved, you’ll always have those little moments.

[randomdancingwhore]

Princess Protection Program - Helmut Zemo x Wakandan! Reader

Chapter 1: The (Not Quite) Meet Cute

Chapter Summary: Y/N and T'Challa mourn, and she meets a certain German psychiatrist.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of death of a family member, Drugging.

Notes: Female Reader, No beta read.

Word Count: 1520

The young prince, T'Challa, paced back and forth in the office. It had been a stressful day. He had fought the renowned Captain America.

Through the glass walls of the room, he saw a figure approaching. It was Y/N, his cousin who had he had been raised with like a sister. The approaching girl looked as innocent and demure as always. The structured business attire she donned looked out of place on her as she was more suited to the dainty dresses she usually wore.

The door opened, and the young woman rushed into her cousin's awaiting arms. The sound of her sobs filling the office. The girl pulled back,

"What happened, cousin? Is it true?" She asked, eyes glittering with tears.

"Yes, that man killed our king. He murdered my father, our father in cold blood," T'Challa stated.

Y/N fell back into the Prince's arms, once again sobbing. Y/N was not the king's daughter. She wasn't even from his side of the family. She was the daughter of Queen Ramonda's younger brother, and after he and Y/N's mother's mysterious death the Queen and her husband took the girl in. They raised her like their own child, and in return, she felt as though they were her parents.

"I tried to bring him the justice that he deserved, but Steve Rogers protected that murderer, the Winter Soldier," The Prince spat.

"But Captain America saves people. He’s good." The girl marvelled at the information given to her.

"I thought so too, cousin."

»»——⍟——««

The pair sat at the desk. T'Challa had calmed down enough to have the tea that was brought in. Cup in hand, he wondered what the girl was doing so far from safety. Y/N had been in the UN building during the bombing. She had been scooped away by the Dora as soon as she was found in the rubble. 

Y/N had accompanied her uncle and cousin to Vienna for her first official trip as a diplomat after her university graduation. She didn't want to attend the UN meeting, but never could say no to anyone.

"I'm grateful for your company, Y/N, but I must know why you've come here? You should be somewhere more secure," T'Challa inquired.

Y/N gently put down her teacup and patted the corner of her lips with a cloth serviette, "This tea is wonderful. Uncle would have enjoyed it," The girl mused, trying to change the subject.

"You haven’t answered my question, Y/N. What are you doing here?"

Taking a deep breath, she said "I've been asked to do a job," 

When T'Challa stayed silent, she continued, "Rather... I asked to do a job... I asked to sit in on the Winter Soldiers psychological assessment."

T'Challa stood suddenly, making Y/N gasp as the table shook.

"You will do no such thing!"

"T'Challa, please. I'll be fine. It is my job, after all," Y/N pleaded. She hated to see people upset, and it made her feel even worse when she was the cause of it.

"That man is dangerous!"

"I'm aware, but I have to see him, I have to see the man that took our father from us" Her voice cracked, making the T’challa soften.

The Prince settled back into his chair, and Y/N took his hands. "Please let me do this. I'm begging you".

»»——⍟——««

The session was due to begin soon. Y/N stood alone outside the door, waiting for the psychiatrist to arrive.

Composing herself was more challenging than she thought it would be, but King T'chaka's murderer was so close, so who could fault her for being terrified of the man that had shaken her family like this?

Y/N felt fresh tears gathering.

"Is everything okay, Frauline?" A masculine voice said from behind her.

Y/N jumped with a squeak as she spun around to find a handsome young man before her. He had short brown hair, a five o'clock shadow and a pair of glasses on.

"I'm fine, thank you, sir. I'm just waiting for the doctor," she assured him.

"Oh," he says, extending a hand, "My apologies. Dr. Theo Broussard"

Y/N takes his hand and gives it a weak shake. She smiles timidly. This wasn't who she expected.

"Y/N M/N L/N, ward of the Wakandan royal family, but I prefer just Y/N. I'm here to observe the assessment process?" 

She sees the doctor's jaw clench at her last statement but pushes it aside.

"It's nice to meet you, Y/N. Ward of the royal family, you say? Do you share any relation to the late King of Wakanda" he ponders.

"He is- was my uncle" She shifts uncomfortably, and the man sends her a sad look.

"I’m truly regretful of his loss. He seemed like a good man."

"Thank you, he was," Y/N said, thinking fondly of her uncle.

"I feel inclined to ask about the ethics of your observation. You are, as they say, 'too close to the case'"

"I assure you, I won't try to sway your judgement on the Soldier's evaluation. You won't even know I'm there," Y/N says

Dr. Broussard hums and looks into her eyes, reading her.

"Are you frightened to go in there?" He asks

"I won't lie, I am. I've always been very good at making other people feel better, be more at peace, you know. That's why I felt it was so right for me to pursue a career in psychology. But here I am, with my degree, and I can help everyone feel better but myself" She laughed a bit, and the doctor smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"It will take work, but you'll find a way. And remember, James Barnes is restrained. He can't get to you."

He fishes something out of his pocket and offers it to her. It's a Turkish delight. "Something to calm your nerves."

Y/N smiles and takes it. He watches her unwrap it and pop it in her mouth.

»»——⍟——««

Y/N didn't feel right. She was beginning to feel a bit weak and foggy.

Chalking it up to the fact that she was sat in a dim room with a killer, she ignores it.

As the doctor had said, the Winter Soldier was restrained, but it did little to help her feel safe. She did feel angry, an emotion she hardly ever felt but as soon as she had set foot into the room and saw the Winter Soldier, anger and fear consumed her.

Y/N was seated in a chair beside Dr. Broussard. Sending an icy glare, she didn't know she was capable of towards the man behind the glass.

"Tell me, Bucky, you've seen a great deal, haven't you?" The doctor asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," The Soldier said with a downtrodden tone, and a pang of pity hit Y/N's chest. She tried to push it down quickly, but it lingered.

Y/N began to feel light-headed. Touching the back of her hand to her forehead to make sure she wasn't feverish.

"Ms. L/N, is everything all right?" He asked, noticing her movement.

"It's nothing, Doctor."

He clears his throat and continues talking to Bucky. "You feel that if you open your mouth, the horrors will never stop."

As the doctor said this, the pity Y/N felt began to grow. She knew what HYDRA had done to him, and looking into his eyes, she could see that he was haunted. 'But HYDRA didn't make him kill my uncle' Y/N tried to convince herself, wanting so badly to remain angry, to show loyalty to her family, but the pity still grew.

The fogginess in her mind also grew. Stars began to gather in her vision, and she felt her eyes clouding over.

"Don't worry," The doctor says to the Winter Soldier.

Y/N stands, ready to excuse herself.

"We only have to talk about one," the doctor finishes.

The woman collapses to the ground as darkness and blinking, red lights overtake the room.

The powers out.

Going in and out of consciousness. Y/N hears banging and words spoken in Russian as she desperately tries to stay awake, translating what she can.

"Seventeen"

Bang!

"Benign"

Bang!

"Nine"

Bang!

"Homecoming"

Bang!

"One"

Bang!

"Freight car"

Crash!

Silence fills the room.

"Soldier?" she hears the doctor ask in Russian

"Ready to comply," The Winter Soldier replies.

Y/N's mind goes blank.

»»——⍟——««

Looking down at the girl passed out on the floor, Zemo couldn't help but feel a little bad. 

The reason she had gotten in his way was because she was looking for closure over something he had done.

He knelt beside her and took off his jacket. Folding it into a makeshift pillow, he raised Y/N's head and places it beneath her. It was the least he could do.

He ran his thumb over her cheek. Even in a coerced slumber, the pretty young woman looked so peaceful and vulnerable—a sleeping beauty. 'How ironic,' he thought.

Far off he heard the footsteps of Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson as they approached.

He didn’t linger anymore. There was still work to be done...

Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated✨

[emmy-lou-badoo]

Sancta Stella / Part 3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5* / 

______________________________________________________________

The Dimitrescu castle was splendid. It was like a castle out of a fairytale, it was in a way - just not one with princesses and knights and sweet talking animals. 

Stella realized that the first night she stayed there. 

She layed in the luxurious bed, in a nightgown gifted to her, staring at the moonlight bouncing off the gold adornments of the room. She heard a scream. It happened once and it made her bolt upright, then it happened again and again, then it stopped for the rest of the night. 

Stella turned on her side and covered herself with the thick duvet, finding comfort and safety in the dark warmth of it. 

There were screams almost every night, for two weeks. Two weeks she wasn’t permitted to leave the castle. 

Stella was convinced it was some sick taunt from Miranda, trapping her in the castle to just listen to the things that could happen to her if she tried to leave the village. 

She never felt unsafe, but she had never tried to disobey what Alcina told her to do. 

The third week and Stella was feeling glum, the screams didn’t affect her anymore. She missed the sun, and the outdoors. She could only get outside when she went into the courtyard, but it was not the same. 

Stella sat in Alcina’s chambers, sitting by Alcina’s feet as Alcina did her hair, Daniela, Cassandra and Bela also lounging around the room with them. 

“May I go outside today?” Stella asked. 

Alcina halted her movements on her head, “I’d have to ask Mother Miranda”. 

Stella spun to see Alcina, “please”. 

“Fine” Alcina nodded, face pulled tight. 

*******

Alcina went to call mother. 

“She wishes to go outside” 

“Then let her” 

“Mother!” Alcina tries to interject

“She has either learned her place and deserves reward, or she will be taught her place by the lycans - they won’t let her get far” 

Alcina huffed, “alright Mother”

*******

Stella was delighted to hear that she was allowed to get outside. 

She found a cloak in her room, and she dared not think about whom it used to belong to, she tried not to think about any of the women whose clothes she now wore. 

“Watch out for those disgusting dogs while you’re out there” Alcina instructed Stella as she stood at the door. 

Stella smiled lightly and waited for Alcina and the girls to leave before leaving herself. She pushed the doors open with a heavy groan. 

She welcomed the cold breeze that hit her skin, it was refreshing. The fresh blanket of snow on the ground made Stella smile, watching her footprints form in the snow behind her. 

She tracked down into the village, it was quiet, houses boarded up, she wondered if people were alive or if they were killed by the lycans. 

Stella tried not to focus on it and enjoy her time outside. 

She didn’t know the layout of the village, but she let avoiding any lycans she saw guide her route. She came close a few times, but they seemed to ignore her - which she was grateful for. 

Stella came to an open hilltop, she could see out into the mountains that surrounded the village, and the wooded valley. 

“Thinking of flying away, little bird?” Heisenberg's voice interrupted her. 

“No” she turned and almost bumped her nose against his, he was so close, she took a step back, “I was admiring the view” 

“I suppose it’s nice for someone who hasn't seen it everyday of their life” He hummed, uninterested. 

“Did Mother Miranda send you to spy on me?” Stella asked. 

“No” Heisenberg smirked, lowering the glasses from his eyes, “I was out and couldn’t help but notice you wandering around” Heisenberg reached up and twirled a piece of her hair. 

A bloodcurdling scream echoed from within the village, then howls and roars from the lycans, some even run by Heisenberg and Stella. 

“That’ll be for me” Heisenberg smiled at her and gave her strand of hair a light tug and turned walking away into the village. 

“Wait” Stella takes a moment to snap into, “what’s going on?” Stella ran up behind Heisenberg. 

“Oh that’s right, you’ve never been here when the sun sets” Heisenberg spins to her, “it’s when the lycans really go wild - you best run back to the castle” he turned and left her again. 

Her body began to heave with breaths, the village filled with screams and howls and lycans bolting about, bursting into homes - attacking people. 

Stella lifted her long dress and cloak and began running back toward the castle. 

She was running up to the church when a Lycan rush infront of her, knocking her over. 

She scrambled back to her feet and bolted into the gate to the castle grounds and didn’t stop running until she was inside the castle walls, door secure behind her. 

“You had a run in with those dogs” Alcina snarled, seeing Stella’s frightened and disheveled self. 

“That or she rolled down a hill,” Bela chuckled. 

“Go warm up - Mother will be displeased if you get sick from the cold” Alcina pointed upstairs and Stella drug herself up each step. 

Stella sat in front of the warm fire and decided she’d have to pick better times to go outside. 

*******

Stella stayed inside the next few days, she occupied herself by hemming some old dresses Cassandra found in the basement for her. 

She pulled one out, it was grey, perhaps used to be white lace, it had large patches of blood on it. She couldn’t wear it, even if she cut around the stains, there wouldn’t be enough to make anything from - unless it was for a child. 

Then Stella thought of the doll, Alcina told her the doll was Angie and the woman behind the doll was Donna. 

Stella held up the dress and decided she’d make a dress for a doll, Donna liked dolls. The girls said Donna had many dolls, surely the dress she made could fit one of them. It be a good excuse to visit some of the other Lords. 

The girls had spent time explaining the running's of the Village to her; the Lords, The Duke, about themselves. 

And If Stella was being honest she found Donna and Angie to be the second most welcoming, after Alcina and the girls. 

*******

Donna and Angie did love the dress, Angie clapping and giggling, as she always did when she enjoyed something. 

“We know just who to put it on” Angie claps with glee, a doll comes sailing through the air under Donna’s control it hovers in front of Stella. 

“It has red hair, just like you,” Angie says. 

“It will look lovely on her” Stella comments smiling, talking with Angie and Donna was like talking with a child. 

Stella stayed for tea with Donna and Angie, but decided to go back to the castle for the night. She had made a comfy spot in her room there - it felt comfortable. 

Stella was strolling back, not really paying mind to anything, she was running her fingers over the cold foliage that lined the pathway. 

“Well, well, well” it was Heisenberg's voice, “out for a stroll” 

Stella quirked her brow at him, “are you?” 

He chuckled, “now I am”. 

Stella hummed and started walking again, when she reached where he stood ahead of her he stepped in front of her. 

“Not freaked out by all the dolls?” he asks, nodding behind her, where she came from. 

“No” Stella shook her head lightly, he reached out and took a strand of hair and twirled it, again. 

“Brave little bird” he smirked, barely a chuckle left his throat. 

“No” Stella pulled her head away, so the strand of hair fell from his toying, “I’m just not scared of it anymore” 

“It?” he asks. 

“All of it, lycans, you - the other lords...I feel like ...like i-” in her lack of words he filled in

“Like you belong” mocking laced his words. 

“A bit - yes” she says looking at him in his glasses-covered eyes. 

“Well” he circled around her, “that's what we want” he leaned he behind her and whispered in her ear, “isn’t it” he then gave a small strand of hair a tug. 

Stella spun around, he was already walking away, off a different fork in the path then she needed to go. 

“See ya around birdie” he called out, not turning around, hand raised in the air as a lazy wave goodbye. 

Stella huffed, watching him go until she couldn’t see him anymore - then continued on her way. 

**********

Stella made it a habit to visit Donna and Angie almost everyday. 

One day on her walk back from the Beneviento house she saw the Windmill - where she had discovered Moreau lived. 

She decided to visit him. 

It smelled and he didn’t have the looks the others fortunately got to keep in their experimentation, but he was lonely - so lonely. 

Stella didn’t think - as she walked back from her little visit with Moreau - that she could visit him often, the smell was too much. But she decided she would visit him sometimes. She knew what it was like to be that lonely - even with people around...

“Really are acting all saint like, visiting everyone - even the likes of Moreau” Heisenberg's taunting voice stopped her in her tracks as she was coming up to the castle grounds entrance. 

“Are you following me?” Stella asks, hands finding her hips. 

Heisenberg's lips twitch up, she can barely see the true expression on his face - sunglasses and hat obstructing the view. 

“Maybe” he drawls. 

Stella retreats into the castle, frustrated with Heisenberg's constant taunting.

***

“What the fuck is going on here?” Ethan asks, gun lowered, but held firm in hand, “I know you - I saw a file on you - you’re Stella Benton” 

“I am” the woman speaks softly, hands in the air trying to keep Ethan calm, “and your Ethan Winters, and I’m assuming you are here looking for your daughter” 

As if on cue, Ethan heard a baby cry again, from across the room. His head snapped over and saw a cradle in the little livingroom of the home. 

“Rose” Ethan then snapped his gun to point at Stella, “you’ve had my daughter this whole time” 

“Ethan, please, that baby is my son - go look for yourself, just please lower the gun, I don’t want to hurt you” Stella begged. 

Ethan eyed her, trying to see if deception would creep out of her in some way - it didn’t. 

He lowered his gun, and side stepped into the livingroom, keeping Stella in sight. 

He peaked down into the little wooden cradle and it was a little boy, cheeks and hair red. The boy had chubby cheeks like Rose, but this was not his daughter. 

Ethan tucked is gun away, “I’m sorry” 

“It’s ok - I understand, I don’t agree with what Miranda is doing...as a Mother...and as a victim of her experimentation” Stella comes to stand beside him. 

Stella picks up her son, “this is Jonah” Stella smiles lightly, then turns back across the main room. 

“are you on your way to Heisenberg?” Stella stirred something on the stove. 

“yes” Ethan’s eyes lingered on the cradle. 

“Take anything you need, but...” Stella pauses, and Ethan turns to look at her, her eyes are hazy, “just keep in mind that not all the Lords are faithful to Miranda - they, like me, were just test subjects...their lives stripped away”

 “I won’t stop until I get my daughter” Ethan spoke. 

Stella’s head hung, her son curling his cubby fingers around hers, “I know”. 

[random-imagines-blog]

Hysteria {Henry Wu x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2793 Summary: You’re an up and coming scientist hand chosen by Henry Wu to be a part of his team at Jurassic World. But you feel for him in ways more than a boss and a team member should. Warnings: Contains spoilers of Jurassic World; and Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

You had the feeling that something bad was going to happen the whole time that you were working on the top secret project with Dr. Henry Wu. But you wanted to trust it because you trusted him whole-heartedly. The Indominus Rex was really a huge innovation in genetics, and you were honored to be a part of it. Being one of the younger scientists working inside of Jurassic World meant that you were often skipped over, considered to be too youthful to have the experience needed. But Dr. Henry Wu took a chance on you, and you had proved yourself, becoming one of the head scientists on the project. And you were very grateful to him for doing that. Maybe grateful wasn’t the right word. You weren’t an English major, but perhaps the word you were looking for was smitten. That seemed to fit the ticket.

Who wouldn’t be attracted to an older, very intelligent and handsome mentor? You admired his brain as well as that crooked smile that he rarely had in the lab but seemed to give to you a couple of times a month. With his serious demeanor, you couldn’t ask for much more than that. The only thing that you didn’t fully admire was his constant need to put the work in front of lives. Not only those of the other scientists, working you day and night on little sleep to get a project done and not alerting others to what sort of DNA he was extracting. But those of the patrons of the park. He wasn’t in it for the people, the fame, the money. He was in it for the creativity. The mad genius, some of your colleagues would call him behind his back.

But as long as things continued on smoothly, things should be fine. As long as the Indominus Rex remained in it’s area, things would be okay. As long as nothing in the slightest went wrong... things should be okay.

But chaos started to happen. Voices came over the loud speaker that the project you had been working on with Henry, the very dangerous dinosaur that you had created - it was loose.

Henry didn’t want to go. After he had been told that there was a helicopter ready to take you and him off to safety, he stayed standing around, watching the chaos. “Dr. Henry, we really should go,” You said, putting your bag with your few personal belongings and some scientific equipment over your shoulder. It seemed unlikely that you would ever be returning here. All of your work - and it was just going to get killed. You couldn’t bear to watch, though you understood how much of a danger the Indominus Rex could be if out of its confines. Safety first, science second.

“All of this ... exists because of me,” He said, looking at the monitors which would probably be shut down very soon. “And now, it will be gone.”

“But think of what else that you could create out there,” You said, watching as the last of the other scientists left. You would be missing the flight if you stayed much longer. And this was not a place you wanted to be if your creation was still wandering around. “But you’re not going to have a chance to if you don’t get your butt on that chopper!”

He sighed, but he did eventually give you a smile. “Go and save me a seat,” He asked and you nodded, taking his permission to leave. But as you walked through the white halls, then ascended the staircases, you wondered if he was going to pull some sort of stunt. Try to stay behind and save all of his work. The chopper was almost filled, and you jogged towards it, a man extending his hand to help you aboard. You took it and took your seat, noticing that there was only one left. You put your bag on your lap, secured your seatbelt and waited, just hoping, just hoping...

Eventually the door to the roof opened, and Wu came jogging, only a single bag with him. He seemed a little out of breath as he approached the chopper, and this time you were the one that got up and offered your hand, pulling him aboard. He collapsed next to you, wiping a bit of sweat off of his forehead. “Thanks,” He said, and you nodded in response.

-

You continued to work with Dr Wu on many different projects, but most of them concerned dinosaurs. You had different agendas, him wanting to see how far that he could take science, and you having an actual love of the dinosaurs. You grew very invested in each and every one, so the events that happened at Jurassic World had broken your heart. But at least you still had your specimens, your DNA, all of it, in the lab. You practically lived there now, as did Henry. Living off of take out and taking turns sleeping on a small couch took a bit of a toll but you wouldn’t change where you were for the world.

“Did you finish the chinese food?” Henry asked. You looked over to see that he was deep in the only fridge that was for personal use, his rear sticking out beyond the door. You gave a grin at that, took out your cellphone and snapped a picture because the image was just a little too adorable for the otherwise-grumpy scientist. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I did, sorry,” You said, putting your camera into the pocket of your ever-present white coat before he caught a glimpse of it. “Maybe we should go out for dinner tonight. How long has it been since you’ve set foot outside?”

The fact that Henry was silent, and actually had to think about it, made up your mind. “There’s an Italian place just down the street, we could walk? I know I need the exercise.”

“I guess I could use a break,” Henry said, and his stomach gurgled in response making you laugh. “I’ll be ready in .. twenty minutes?”

“Sounds good to me,” You said with a nod, and went to your own personal little cubby where you kept your belongings. Your heart was beating fast as you looked through your clothes to find something a little more special than what you usually threw on to be around the lab. Pushing past all of the white clothing, you spotted a bit of color. The blue dress that you wore to the opening of Jurassic Park years ago, still in it’s dry-cleaning bag. You unzipped it and took a look at the fabric, feeling it between your fingers, wondering if it still fit. Would it even be appropriate for something like this? Would Henry even notice that you were wearing something that wasn’t your usual lab attire?

So many questions went through your mind, and cut through a big chunk of time. Henry would be ready soon. So, as they say in science - fuck it. You pulled your coat off, and put on the dress, only to find that it fit absolutely perfectly, just like it had all of those years ago. You weren’t even sure why you had kept it for so long. You never had reason to dress up anymore - but then along came Henry, and though he wasn’t concerned much about what humans looked like, you wanted to have something just in case there was a chance. This was that chance.

You didn’t have the right footwear to go with it though, so you went with your walking shoes. They were better than your bulky lab boots anyway. A quick brush of the hair, a touch of chapstick, and you met up with him in the hallway. And to your surprise, he had dressed up somewhat as well. And if you didn’t know any better, you might think that he was blushing, just a little. “Are you ready?” He asked, in his usual upfront and business like manner, making you snap out of any hopes that you had. You gave a nod, and together, went out to the restaurant, staying close for warmth against the wind that had picked up in the last few minutes.

The dinner had gone well, and for the first time, he seemed to open up about things other than work. You’ve never heard about his childhood before, but he was giving you little glimpses into it. He had always had an affinity for science, and had originally thought about becoming an actual MD. But a trip to a museum and seeing the pictures of dinosaurs had opened up something in his brain, had started him on that course. You opened up a little about yourself as well, but you had never been as guarded about your life before work as he had been. Your own love of dinosaurs had come when you had heard about Jurassic Park. And you had made it your mission since then to work under the highly esteemed Dr. Henry Wu, and you completed that mission.

“It’s been an honor working with you,” He said, lifting his glass of wine to you.

“The honor is all mine,” You said, lifting your glass.

--

Things didn’t change with your new job. You followed Henry, as you would have to the ends of the Earth since you were completely crazy about him against your better judgment, to work for a private company. Creating dinosaurs for auction. God, it felt so wrong. You thought that every time that you ran tests, or experimented with the DNA. You were creating things that could destroy the world as you know it. Not just an island. Not just a park. But the entire world since you were on the mainland.

And things went wrong. The prototype was apparently sold, but then the dinosaurs began to escape because of a couple of former co-workers, and people around you were dying. Again.

“I think we need to stop, Henry,” You said from the driver’s side of the car that you stole, speeding away from the mansion, probably breaking about fifty laws while peeling out of there. And your heart broke at all of the lives that had been lost because of you and Henry. Because of what you had created. “All that we’re doing is killing people. We’re creating life, and then it’s getting destroyed so it’s barely even life at all.”

Henry remained silent for a couple of minutes, his head against the window, looking out in front of you. You knew you were lucky to have even gotten him out of there. All he wanted to do was run to the basement, where the dinosaurs were, and get the samples. But when you heard the bidding for the prototype, your brain had just completely given up on all of the work. You just couldn’t put yourself, or other people, in that position anymore.

“Pull over,” Henry requested, pulling you out of your thoughts. You still figured you were too close to the mansion to be anywhere near safe, but you moved the car to the shoulder of the road  nonetheless. You kept the key in the ignition but you turned the engine off to save gas. Or electricity, you didn’t even know - you didn’t check what kind of car it was.

“What is it?” You asked, looking over at him. His face was awash with orange light from the streetlight above him. He looked stressed, he looked a bit angry even.

“Without my work, I am nothing. That is something that you could never understand-”

“No, you’re right,” You interrupted. “That is something that I just - can’t understand. And I don’t even want to try. You put work above everything else, including the lives of other people. Including your own life. Like, Henry, do you not understand how lucky we are that we just got out of there? So many people didn’t make it.”

“I realize that-” Henry said, then it was like the enormity of the situation hit him. “They’ll be loose.”

“And it’s going to be a whole different world because of that,” You said with a frown. “And as the creator of these things... we’re probably going to be hunted down and put before the grumpiest jury to ever exist.”

“Fuck,” He said, rubbing his lips, running his hands through his hair. He was jittery, and it wasn’t from coffee. It was from the realization of what he, and you, had done.

“So we really need to get out of here and find somewhere to bunker down for a while,” You sighed. You wished you knew of a place where you could go, but nowhere would be welcoming to you right now. Your only intention was to drive and drive and drive and hope that the police were too busy with dinosaurs to realize that you were in a stolen car. As far away from here as possible.

“Shouldn’t we separate?” Henry asked. “It’s me they’re going to be coming for. You can still get out of this...”

“I’m just as responsible as you are - and I don’t have anyone else, Henry. And - I don’t want to be with anyone else. I’ve gotten quite adjusted to your company,” You admitted.

He looked at you for a long while. You could feel the weight and the intensity of that gaze, and it made you feel uncomfortable. Your fingers tapped against the steering wheel, waiting for him to say something.

“Let’s drive,” He said, and you nodded. It wasn’t what you had wanted to hear, but it was better than nothing. You started the car back up and continued along the road, watching as the sun started to come up on the horizon. People would be waking up and turning on the news soon. And their lives would be changed forever.

“I don’t know where we’re going,” You said, as you came to a stop at a red light. You looked over at Henry again only to find that he was still looking at you. He looked like he wanted to say something, which was an odd expression because he rarely ever took the time to stop and think about what was going to come out of his mouth. “What are you thinking?”

“That it doesn’t matter where we go,” He said, slowly. “I want you there.”

Your heart started to beat again, quickly, though it had just started to slow down to a normal pace. I want you there - those words would be echoing through your mind forever. “I love you.”

You hadn’t even meant to say it but it slipped out. Everything was coming out tonight. Dinosaurs, the disgusting and greedy nature of men to own everything - and the truth.

“You’re young,” Henry said after a moment’s silence. “I am nearly twice your age.”

“Exactly. I’m young, and you still took a chance on taking me on as a part of your team. That means that you saw something in me that a lot of people just refused to look at. But it’s okay if you don’t love me back, Henry, I can live with that. But I guess I couldn’t live without not telling you.”

Henry was not an emotional person. In fact, he was either very concentrated on his work, or he was frustrated from not being consumed by his work. It was one or the other, so you weren’t expecting much to come from him. He had even tried to give you a logical reason not to care about him. But love wasn’t the most logical thing in the world. He knew that from experience. You were in diapers while he was getting his PhD. He had no reason to be feeling things things for you. But yet...

“I love you too.” He said. And he reached out and put his hand on top of yours on the center console, his rough hands - cut up from broken beakers over the years - felt warm against yours. You took a glance over at him, feeling touched that he made even that little move.

The light turned green. You kept looking at Henry, up until there was an angry honk from a car behind you. You laughed and pressed down on the gas pedal, running away from your problems, and going towards the brand new world.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

16. Play.

Noticing the power shift created by Joey’s new form and role in his story, the Ink demon, the Prophet, and the now much more lucid searchers are interested in playing a few games with their old pals Henry and Joey. (Or not very interested, in the prophet and searchers’ cases) (Set in the AU where by yeeting Joey into the ink machine before going through the portal-door in the kitchen, Henry is accompanied by a chatty, useless, and overall insufferable little imp.)

The novelty of Joey accompanying him as a friendly, (Henry used that term loosely considering what he knew now.) tiny, cartoon demon wore off the second the story actually kicked into play. For starters, the former animator knew that whether either of them liked it or not, Joey was going to be clinging to him whenever he felt like it and following him like a lost puppy.

At the moment, the imp was running ahead of the animator, tapping his feet impatiently as he ‘waited’ for the old man to catch up before scurrying off again and occasionally tripping, but Henry knew that by the time the Ink Demon came into play, the little devil would use him as a meat shield.

 Speaking of the two devils, Henry approached the freshly boarded up ink machine room which Joey was already peering into with an uneasy expression on his pale face. The animator also peered into the room, but instead of being greeted by the Ink Demon popping out of the hole and starting the chase, he watched the Ink demon pace about the small room with an expression he’d never seen on it before: a grimace.

In addition to the demon’s seemingly much more expressive face, he seemed to have a different approach to his role as a villain now that he had no script from Joey to follow; a villain who was much more dangerous than a smart animal.

“SAMMY! JACK! JOHNNY!”

The Ink Demon shouted and called up three figures of ink.

“Alright, now listen up you three good-for-nothing, sewer-water-brained Lackeys, the creators will be here ANY second now, and if I find out YOU STUPID INK BLOTS let them get away, I’m gonna wring your necks out like wet towels! Do I make myself clear?!”

“Yes, your vileness.” The swollen searcher with a bowler hat replied in a tired sounding tone.

“Clear as day, your assholiness.” The Prophet added, sounding like more of a smartass than he had ever been when he was alive.

“Y-yes… Lord Ink Demon… We’ll take good care of them all right! W-well not good, but- EEEP!” a third searcher that appeared to have teeth made out of piano keys meekly stuttered and hid from the Ink Demon’s untrusting glare from behind the safety of the Prophet’s legs.

“Good! Now listen up: they’ve started up our machine already so we don’t have much time to plan: So what do we do to stop them?”

“Uh... ...Same thing as always?”

“W-well… I’m sure that you’ll have the best plan out of all of us, your rottenness!”

“You can stick your hand out of the holes in the boards and watch them run and fall to their doom like a pair of stray sheep who don’t see the cliff.”

“NO! When Joey’s not in control, I’m calling the shots around here! And I say: We’re not going to run his stupid story through the machine any more! We’re doing something completely different, something that will really make ‘em suffer...”

“Henry!” Joey tugged on the man’s pant leg and whispered loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to grab the ink monsters’ attention. “He can think and talk! He’s not supposed to do that! Hell, aside from Sammy, none of them are supposed to be any smarter than feral animals! Not to mention, they all look different… I think that stuff on Sammy is supposed to be hair, but it’s never been THAT long before...”

The Ink Demon slapped his forehead and grumbled under his breath.

“Speak of the %*#@ing devils…” He then stared expectantly at the confused trio of searchers. “WELL?! THEY’RE HERE; RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOOR! ARE YOU GONNA MAUL ‘EM OR ARE YOU JUST GONNA SIT AROUND WAITING FOR THE COCKROACHES IN YOUR HEADS TO CHEW UP THE GARBAGE YOU CALL BRAINS FIRST?!”

“Why not take the pleasure in offing them yourself, your dicklessness?”

“Uh, Yeah, and when you fail at that, we’ll set up traps for ‘em downstairs. It’s not like they’re gonna escape the studio.”

The searcher with piano key teeth sheepishly nodded along.

“What?! But I had this cool dramatic entrance planned out and everything- ARGH! FINE!” The Ink Demon grumbled as he started breaking the boards. “If you want a mauling done right...”

Henry held Joey like a football as he ran through the rapidly flooding studio as the Ink Demon cackled manically throughout the chase.

“READY OR NOT HEEREEE I COOOOMEEEE~”

Henry found himself having to jump and duck to avoid a lot more falling debris and had felt the demon’s claws at his back at times, the situation was not helped by Joey screaming and crying the entire time.

He felt more dread than relief as he saw the exit coming in, no matter how close it got, he never got to it, like every time before, the floorboards broke underneath his feet. He always fell, and now, someone would try to catch him.

“HA! NOT WHEN I’M IN CHARGE, CREATOR!”

And would succeed.

It happened so fast that Joey couldn’t tell if he did it intentionally or not, but he had slipped out of Henry’s grip and had fallen down to the depths of the studio with a loud ‘splash’ announcing his arrival.

Announcing that he was alone, defenseless, and weak. In a studio that Joey now knew no longer was his to control, and was filled with many, many enemies who would fully take advantage of that.

“Y-you just need to stay c-calm, Joey...” He pulled himself up on a floating piece of stray wood and started paddling towards the valve. “There’s an ax nearby, all you need to do is get to it and you’ll be fine. you’ve seen Henry do this hundreds of times, you’ll be alright, you just need to believe in yourself.”

In spite of his reassuring speech, the scared little imp felt a large pit of dread in his gut. The former Music director, former lyricist, and the former organist would probably hesitate if it was Henry instead, but those three caught him... Joey shuddered just thinking about it. 

As the ink drained he took his miraculously unstained bath robe off of the floor and put it back on. He was also missing his pants now, but it wasn’t like he could go back up to get them, and even if he could, he wasn’t going to fight the Ink Demon for a pair of fucking pants that were too big for him anyway.

“Get the ax, get back with Henry, get the ax, get back with Henry, get the ax, get back with Henry...”

He repeated to himself under his breath as he repeated his task of descending and turning valves as an attempt to keep himself from jumping at every twist and turn. The imp also kept his eyes peeled for anything that looked suspicious or out of place, fearing the looming threat of the searchers’ traps.

The ax and the room was exactly how Joey had left it, not a single thing changed, which did make him feel relieved.

When he moved forward, he didn’t find any evidence that Sammy was worshiping Bendy at all when in the shrine room, there were plenty of ritualistic circles, plenty of cryptic messages, but they all had the little devil as a thing that was meant to be sacrificed, not as something worth the former musician’s worship.

“Of all the runs for Sammy to not worship Bendy...” He groaned. “It HAD to be the one where I became an imp...”

He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or even more afraid when he didn’t see Sammy moving the cutout around.

------

When Joey got to the music department itself, he heard the sounds of laughter, pool balls clacking, cheers and glasses clinking in the distance. Following the sounds, he found the three searchers lounging around the pool table in the middle of a conversation and a game.

The upbeat atmosphere fizzled out when the three noticed him. The Swollen searcher muttered something about the game just getting good, the Piano key-toothed searcher groaned about Joey spoiling all the fun as usual, and the masked mad maestro smiled at him.

Not in a sarcastic or forced way like how his human self smiled at people, it seemed genuine enough. But it also wasn’t a warm or kind smile, it seemed more ...hungry.

“Hello little Lamb.” The prophet stood up and got into the imp’s face,  “Are you interested in playing a game with us?”

‘Oh fuck, he’s still crazy.’ Joey thought to himself. “N-no thanks!” He smiled and waved hoping that he didn’t look as terrified as he felt. “I’ve got a friend of mine to get back to and I really don’t have a lot of time to play.”

The imp dashed out of the break room and slammed the door shut behind him, completely unaware that the merriment had returned to the room.

“Thank god he didn’t go for it.” Johnny sighed. “If The Ink Demon found out about this room because of that little runt...”

“I told you it would work.” The prophet took the mask back off and set it aside on a crate. “...But he’ll probably come back to pester us into trying to help him find Henry, maybe even take up the game offer.”

“Yeah...” Jack poured himself another shot. “Kinda surprised that you didn’t jump at the chance to make his life hell though.”

“Less is more.” The prophet hit the eight ball and watched the rest of them knock against each other. “If you get one big punch left to linger, it hurts like a bitch, if you get hundreds of them, you grow numb to the pain. But I don’t think that Inky understands that.”

“Well, at least he can have fun playing his game of cat and mouse with Joey...”

“Yeah.” Johnny raised his glass. “Cheers to those two being each others’ problems instead of ours!”

“Cheers!”

[yanderenightmare]

YANDERE ! BAKUGO KATSUKI x FEM!READER

goodiebag WARNINGS: noncon/dubcon, yandere, drugging, kidnapping, abduction, stalking, abuse, anxiety, manipulation

PART TWO

SAFETY

Her head felt… fuzzy; as though stuffed full of cotton. Eyes felt more or less the same, they stung and her vision; spotted and blurry. The room was bright, too bright, lit with light so white it became blue. A crisp smell scented the air, as if made up of bleach, and pricked the inside-walls of her nose. She hadn’t gotten completely used to her new apartment yet, but it wasn’t hard to tell… that this wasn’t the same room she had fallen asleep in.

There was a figure to her side, dark in contrast with the otherwise white room. She didn’t make him out completely at first, but could tell it was definitely a person. She would have been more afraid, but the process was one that she’d grown used to. This city was dangerous, she’d come to understand fairly quickly, just as quickly as she’d become familiar with the high-ranking hero. As if the hair weren’t a good enough characteristic, the stark, crimson eyes were enough of a reminder.

“Zero?” She spoke softly, his heart melting even more than it already had by watching her sleep. It disgusted him, he didn't want his heart to melt, he wanted it to explode. He longed for the feeling. It only pounded that way when she looked at him with terror-wide eyes or screamed blood-curdling screams, when he felt her quake against him. He’d grown desperate to say the least.

It was an educated guess, something about the size of him, something about the atmosphere, something about the smell of burnt sugar that always accompanied him. As it had done a month ago. The hero had saved her from villains who wanted her because she in some way posed a perfect host for receiving quirks. She found it strange at the time, being quirkless and all, but she figured that filling an empty glass is easier than a glass half full or brimming. She’d undergone numerous other attacks since. She found it strange how so much drama could befall her in the space of a month, and how quickly the same hero was to respond, especially to the smaller petty crimes she’d found herself caught up in. And here she was again, saved.

“Some people aren’t meant to take care of themselves.” She must have heard him wrong, or at least his tone. It must have been a joke if anything. The words weren't really meant for her anyway. Not that he felt the need to make excuses for himself. He did what he wanted, she just happened to be one of those things. It was her own fault if anything.

“Did you save me again?” She tried laughing at it, tried masking her own sense of failure. It wasn’t as though she weren’t grateful, but she didn’t exactly enjoy being saved, especially when it became a daily occurrence. Perhaps it was this city, she hadn’t been drawn to crime before, it must be the city, what else if not?

“Yes.” It was an abrupt answer, reminded her of a command more than anything. The growl in the back of his throat always evident, however it didn’t alarm her quite yet, she’d gotten rather used to it actually.

She rubbed her temples. More to suppress the headache than to calm her stinging eyes. “Where are we?” She didn’t recognize the facility. It seemed clean, very clean, yet still held certain artifacts and decoration, more so than any normal rescue lounge, personal even.

“Our apartment.” Again, the answer spoken like such a statement. However, she wasn’t paying attention that much anymore and hadn’t quite grasped the entirety of his words. She was far too preoccupied with the realization that she was currently lying in a bed, despite not yet feeling anything more than her throbbing head and discomforted eyes. She wore the same clothes she’d gone to bed in, a t-shirt that didn't even reach to her bellybutton and a pair of repurposed boxers she’d taken from her brother long ago. However, the state of her half-naked self didn't raise any alarm yet, as she did not yet realize the plush cuff linked around her ankle either.

Her brows furrowed when his words settled a bit more, but didn’t think too much off it, given that it hurt her head and each thought was a more than straining process to fall through on. However, wanting to rise into a more dignified position, she made to sit upright, but felt the movement never fulfill. She thought first it had to be her, maybe she was still too tired, but then realized the large hand currently resting firmly in the space between her lungs. The realization would go about unknown for a longer time if it weren’t for the simmering heat that soon spread all the way through her blood into the very tips of her toes. She gave him a confused look, only know seeing the different shape of his eyes. They weren’t mere slits as they usually presented themselves, but were rounder, less red, more black, and glazed with something she couldn’t quite seem to recognize.

He gave an explanation despite the building fear that only now started to fester alongside her headache. He wasn’t dim, he easily spotted her discomfort, but perhaps he wanted to see how long they were going to dance before one of them slipped. “You shouldn’t stand, it’s still unsafe to walk.”

He wasn’t wrong. She didn’t feel that walking was in her element, however she was sure she could manage, and going so far as to call it unsafe, as if she were some newborn gazelle, was taking it a bit far. She understood he probably knew more about it than her but… she needed to calm down. He saved her, she should be thanking him not preparing to bite his head off. Her anger was probably also due to the fact that she has needed him to come save her more than several times now. The frustration was with herself and her own lack of ability more than with him. She decided to smile instead, show gratitude instead of bitterness. It wasn’t his fault she was quirkless, however… he needn’t act as though she were helpless. Though… again, that might have been her fault as well, she hadn’t exactly displayed any sort of strength in her time with him. She guessed now would be as a good a start as any.

“I feel fine, really.” She insisted, still smiling. But she felt still that her tone might have been too stiff. The last thing she wanted was to take her anger out on the hero, what kind of person would she be then? “Thank you.” She added, quickly realizing she forget to mention it. “I’m really grateful that you’d go out of your way to save me yet again.” She really was, but she couldn’t get over her incapability. It was embarrassing to say the least, especially in front of the hero. “But… I think it’s best I just go home and sleep it off.” Be polite, be humble, bury your pride, she kept telling herself. Too caught up in her own ways of expressing her emotions that she didn’t even notice the malcontent on his face. She wouldn’t dare stare at him, therefore not seeing how intent he was on staring at her. Her headache too must have been a factor, or else the hand on her chest would raise more caution than she was currently in possession of, especially when he added more pressure each time she made to get up.

“I insist.”

The answer came a long time after, or perhaps it just felt that way. Her headache kept disrupting her focus. So much she hadn’t even gotten to the part of questioning why he was sitting on the same bed she was lying in, how long he’d been sitting there and even why she was there of all other places to go.

“What exactly happened?” The question lingered in her mind; why was she there? “I can’t remember being attacked. Actually… I can’t remember anything except for going to bed yesterday.” There was probably a reasonable explanation. She knew she was probably just being paranoid, he was one of the highest-ranking heroes after all, but she didn’t see the harm in being a tad bit suspicious, she couldn’t see how he would take offence of her prying, it was more than justifiable behavior, and it wasn’t very professional of him to bring her to his apartment in the first place if anyone was keeping score. Nonetheless, she did feel rude for her insinuating tone, it was uncalled for and unwarranted and disrespectful.

“You knocked your head.” He answered, quickly killing off her guilt, but it wasn’t a satisfying answer, alike most of his answers, and the pain in her head certainly didn’t feel like any blunt force trauma, it felt more anesthetic than that, more purposeful, intent on making her drowsy.

“Well…” She decided it wasn’t really her expertise anyway, who was she to question his diagnosis? He probably met with this every day. “My head feels fine, truly… Ground Zero.” It was a white lie, she figured. All she wanted was to go home at this point. The oddity of the situation more evident now that she had regained more consciousness, and his less-than answers didn’t help ease her nerves. “I should probably head home. Free you of wasting any more time on me.” She tried her best not to be rude, he had saved her life so many times now, it would seem. And although she had more questions regarding the latest rescue, she was more eager to get out of there than anything. The sickly-sweet scent of the hero almost more overwhelming than her headache.

“You can’t.” His calm voice gave yet another short answer. His hand pressed down on her chest again when she made to push herself up a second time.

“You seem to know an awful lot about what I can and can’t do, Ground Zero.” This time she couldn’t help it; the sneer in her voice. She nearly spit his name as if it left a bad taste in her mouth, when really it was the failure of trying to live by herself that made her bitter. Nasty tones weren’t something she usually felt the need to resort to, but she felt as though perhaps her discomfort wasn’t apparent enough to the hero, all she wanted was to go home. However, he didn’t seem all that affected by it, and if he were, he certainly didn’t show it. He did answer however.

“It’s Bakugo Katsuki.” Something else accompanied his voice this time, and the growl in his throat turned grimmer. And as though she had only now heard it for the first time, her ears drew back.

“Ok… Bakugo… I’d like to go home now, please.” Staring into his eyes became like facing her own growing helplessness, the onset of something akin to terror. Those blood-red orbs seemed so much smarter, so much quicker and stronger somehow.

“You are home.” She jolted at the words, them sounding like a threat meant to keep her in place; a correction. And she did, remain in place, only for a couple seconds though, until she pushed his hand away, exercising the element of surprise, knowing how it would take every ounce of energy she had to do so. Though, it didn’t seem as if he had tried to prevent it.

She’d leaped towards the door, hoping it wasn’t locked, even though the idea seemed fairly slim, given that luck had decided to abandon her fully for today. But, she never even made it to the door, no… she met the floor instead, feeling something tugging her down, a soft yet heavy weight around her ankle. She thought it might have been his hand, but looking back she noticed the metal leash trailing all the way back to the bedpost.

There was a cackle that sprung through the room, haughty laughter. “I was gonna put it around your throat.” She looked up at him, meeting with a totally different person. A widespread grin displayed on his face. “But, I don’t think we would have played for so long if I had.” He towered over her frame, casting eerie shadows down at the ground, which somehow made her feel cold. The same shadows dancing over his face, in his eyes. She tried scooting back, but the leash wouldn’t allow it. He chuckled again, every sound more dreary and life-draining than the next, as large hands descended to pick her up into large arms.

“Let go!” She screamed now, and kicked, letting tears spill in mere seconds.

He hummed in response to her outburst, a chuckle that sounded dreadfully similar to a moan, and her ears started to burn at the sound. “Have I already earned your screams?” It became hard to breathe, his tone making it clear that this was merely the beginning, as his arms felt as though they could break her spine if they wished, or by accident if he weren’t careful. “You’re just so eager to please, aren’t yah?” She whimpered at his words, causing him to yet again send another hungry-hearted groan to shatter her ribcage and claw at her heart. She didn’t want to let the fear encompass her entirely and kept struggling to escape his hold, only to be met with the soft bed again, a mattress that seemed to want to swallow her and sheets intent on suffocating her. “You’re tired.” It was more than condescending, so much worse. “And now you’ve hurt yourself.” She was used to being mocked for her helplessness, for her lack of a quirk, but never were the insults adorned with this type of disgusting affection. She hated it, she loathed, so much she felt herself choke.

“Get off me!” She tried to make it sound more intimidating than a whine, but she was afraid she had failed miserably. The hand placed on her ribcage was back, hindering her form getting up. He stroked a fresh scrape on her knee, eyes so wide and so black and so crazed with frenzy. It stung, but she had greater problems at hand. She kicked and flailed, all to his amusement. He snickered at her attempts, her hands trying to push his hand off her chest, to no avail. Still trying to kick even though one leg was firmly caught with his other fist, the nail of his thumb digging, burying itself into the back of her knee.

“Like I said earlier…” He replaced the hand on her chest with his weight instead, moving to hold her throat in a soft grip, but she could feel the wanton pressure in his fingertips in spite of it, heat radiating off him in waves, or perhaps it was his breath. “Some people aren’t meant to take care of themselves.” Her other leg still flailing freely, until he decided to quell it’s conquest by placing his knee onto the inside of her thigh. He couldn’t help but let a content smile fall over his face as she yelled out in pain, her moves becoming more frantic, more desperate, until she again felt the, up until now wavering, headache begin to dull her senses again. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped fighting until she felt his wet, hot tongue sliding up her neck as a slow, burning threat before his teeth sunk skin deep into her flesh.

She kept struggling, but it didn’t take long before he had her entire position secured beneath him, and by that time she was so drowsy that not even the feeling of his teeth scraping against her throat was enough to wake her.

All he wanted was to hear those sounds she made, those earth-shattering, beautiful sounds, and he would give his all to coax them out of her. One has to give him props for trying not to break her beyond compare, but he would never lay any empty promises, not even if just to console her afterwards. He didn’t like liars, he had morals, he was a hero after all, but he was also human, and some things are just too bewitching to resist. It was her fault more than his, her fault for catching his attention.

PART TWO

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The little details: A Morgan and Tilith story

The shuttle carved through the upper atmosphere of the planet like a hot knife through butter and smoothly made its way through the swirling cloud banks. 

Aboard the security detail sat in the front of the craft going over the security details one final time while the diplomats in the rear made their own final preparations. 

They were a rather somber group; the weight of what they were meant to achieve bearing down on them as steadily as the gravity of the world they were speeding towards. 

“Shall we go over the talking points once more?” 

The Parziean delegate Jaldel’s voice was quiet but still held a tone of authority. She had asked the question yet was already opening the data packages with her nimble blue fingers as if she had issued a statement. 

Opposite the Parziean the Flinchestet and Brumark delegates were nodding in agreement and opening their own data packages. Jaldel turned and looked at the remaining delegates behind her. “Would you care you care to join us?” 

Occupying the rear corner of the diplomat sat the Hive delegate Tilith. Her size had required the crew to remove several seats to make enough space for her to sit in. When the crew had inquired if she would need specialized safety harnesses for when the shuttle breached atmo Tilith had politely refused, displaying her leg talons piercing through the lush carpet of the cabin and biting into the metal decking beneath it. 

Tilith had not moved for the entire duration of the flight from the federation worlds. Jaldel would have paid her no mind had she not mumbled and made rapid clicking sounds underneath her silver veil covering her mandibles.

“Delegate Tilith I believe is communicating with the Hive mind and no doubt rather engaged to join you” came a voice next to Tilith. 

Sitting next to her sat the human delegate, Earl von Morgan. He was considered a wild card in the federation; his elderly exterior appearance rarely matching his youthful and somewhat bold actions. Rumor was he had pulled a gun on a member of the inner ten when they attempted to black mail him into joining their group shortly before the Secessionist Schism war had broken out and that he was favored by not only Tilith but other members of the Hive ruling caste. 

Morgan calmly shook his head at Jaldel’s offer and instead pulled out a paper wrapped herb from his coat pocket. “I must decline, as I have a feeling that any laid plans we may concoct will be any use to us once we get down there.” 

He placed the wrapping into his mouth and reached into a his opposite pocket to retrieve a small lighter while Jaldel looked at him reprovingly. 

“More of your human wisdom?” the Flinchestet quipped drawing a chuckle from Brumark. 

Morgan lit his wrapping and took a deep inhale of it before blowing out a thick cloud of smoke in the Flinchestet’s direction causing them to cough and wave their hand in the air to disperse the smoke.  

“Rather more of a feeling.” Morgan said, taking another deep inhale as the shutters along the shuttle windows began to rise slowly and for the first time the delegates got a look at the planet they were here to save. 

“Something here feels very wrong.”

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

The shuttle doors finally opened and the ramp descended to the muddy surface of the planet much to Jaldel’s confusion. She tapped her communication device in her ear and spoke.

“Pilot, are you sure these are the coordinates you were given?”

“That is correct, mam.” The pilots reply was swift, but held a hint of uneasiness that Jaldel was feeling. “This is the location they gave me to follow for your meeting with the prince.” She looked out of the doorway once again to the world below and found herself hesitant to leave.

The coordinates for the discussion had led them to the front lines of the conflict rather than a safe location far away. the landing pad was nothing more than a hastily assembled cleared area that had been covered with metal grates while all of the buildings surrounding it were somewhat dug into the ground itself. The sounds of distant fighting could be heard and if she listened closely over the spin down of the shuttle engines she could hear the thumping sound of artillery gun.

Across the makeshift landing pad stood a trio of Tugundans. Two were dressed in full battle armor, their faces hard and seemingly uninterested while their weapons were held firmly at their sides. The third Tugundan standing in the middle wore a rather over decorated officers uniform, though even from this distance Jaldel could tell it was stained and hadn’t been cleaned in some time. 

The Flinchestet behind her was looking rather pale, even for one of her kind, and the Brumark was attempting to hide their nervousness by clenching deeply into the cushioned chair beside them. Jaldel stood atop the ramp taking it all in while considering her options when the pilot cut in again. 

“Mam, I’m being told that the delegation needs to exit now or we take off again as medical supply vessels are being held in holding patterns till we clear the pad.” 

Before she could respond Morgan began descending the ramp followed by Tilith who had woken from her trance like state only moments before. Jaldel was struck by how seemingly calm Morgan was as he walked into the warzone and realized she could not be shown up by this human and quickly followed after him down the ramp. 

The delegation made their way across the landing pad and stood in front of the trio of Tugundans. Jaldel stepped forward to the officer and produced a document. 

“By order of the Cosmic Federation, we are here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities between both the Tugunda and the-”

Before she could finish her sentence  the officer held up one hand to forestall Jaldel while the other went to a communication device in his ear. The officer was nodding at something that only he could hear. Without saying a word he pulled out a device and entered in several keys. Behind him large doors opened from the earth entrenched building and he quickly motioned the delegation inside.

“We have just received word that an enemy chemical strike is inbound.” He pointed to the delegations shuttle. “Tell your pilot to get back into the space as quickly as possible and enter the bunker.” 

The Flinchestet and Brumark delegates looked shaken and quickly entered the bunker followed shortly by Tilith and Morgan while Jaldel relayed the officers warning to the pilot. Jaldel watched the shuttle take off again before stepping inside the bunker just as the doors began sealing themselves. 

The group was led through a series of tunnels and passage ways. Overhead the loud thumping of artillery shells impacting could be felt as the tunnels would shake every so often. 

Much to the surprise of the delegation the tunnels were far from empty as row upon row of injured Tugunda soldiers lined either side of the tunnel.  Soldiers rushing passed in the opposite direction left the delegates single file and bumping into the injured soldiers much to their displeasure. 

After some time the group was led into a small room lit with a flickering overhead light. A wide metal table sat under the light with simple metal chairs surrounding it while military maps and charts decorated the walls. 

The officer sat at one side of the table while the two accompanying soldiers left the room to stand guard outside. He motioned the delegates to the chairs opposite him which they reluctantly took. 

“My name is Kucvulan, war strider and second in command to prince Marsov.” He removed his cap to reveal several bandages and dressings covering the back of his head which he bristled at. 

“I am Jaldel, head diplomat of this delegation.” Her emphasis at this was clear to establish her superiority fr the negotiations.   “We are here to negotiate a ceasefire between both parties of this conflict.” At the mention of the ceasefire Kucvulan appeared irked. “Did you not see the dozens of wounded outside? All a result of our enemies brutality; and you would us break bread with them?” 

The Flinchestet delegate coughed. “Forgive me, but we are here to negotiate with prince Marsov. Your feelings are irrelevant to these discussions.” 

“Prince Marsov is currently organizing the war from the front lines and is indisposed of. In his place he has appointed me as his representative.”

Nearly all of the delegates looked surprised at this save for Morgan who quietly sat at the corner of the table next to Tilith. As the negotiations continued he said very little in fact save for the casual remark but otherwise was quiet and calmly stroked his mustache. 

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Several hours had passed before the negotiation broke for the day and the delegates returned to their ship with the ride back into space certainly had a more somber mood as the everyone slowly absorbed what they had seen. It was some time before Jaldel spoke and broke the silence.

“It is clear the Tugundan’s are not at fault for this conflict.” 

Both the Flinchestet and Brumark delegates nodded in agreement. 

“The horrors they have endured no doubt leaving their resolve to finish this conflict iron.”

A soft chuckling drew the gathered groups attention to the back of the shuttle to see Morgan lighting another herbal wrapping.

“What do you find so amusing?” Jaldel said, a tone of anger slowly rising in her voice. 

Morgan took a deep inhale and blew out a small cloud of smoke and looked back at the delegates. “You’ve all been played for fools like a fish biting down on a hook.”

The trio looked confused at this remark as Morgan stood and went to the refreshment cabinet and began pouring two glasses of the finest Gloven wine before returning to his seat and handing one to Tilith. 

“The whole point of our negotiations was to bring about an end to this conflict for both sides.” Morgan began before he took a sip of his drink. “But would it not be better for the Tugundan’s to have the frame of war cast so that it makes them out to be the victims and thus garner more support from us?” Morgan noticed the trios confused faces for the first time. “Are you telling me none of you saw the signs?” 

Jaldel bristled at that remark, taking it as an insult to her intellect. “I believe it is you with the faulty perspective. I was paying attention to every detail from the moment we stepped off the shuttle.” Morgan nodded. “Then let us begin the breakdown of events from there shall we?”

He sat down again and took a fresh inhale before continuing. “Does it not strike you as somewhat odd timing that the exact moment we set foot on this world was to coincide with an artillery attack?” 

“Hardly.” Jaldel counter. “They have been fighting for months on end.”

“A fair point I grant you, but the other side must have known we were arriving as we are scheduled to meet with them as well in the coming days. Why would they jeopardize their negotiating position by launching an attack that may have very well killed us all?” 

Before Jaldel could counter again Morgan continued. “And then there is the manner of the attack itself. Kucvulan said it was a chemical attack, correct?”

“Indeed.” the Brumark spoke. 

“Then where was any of the hazmat protection gear for the soldiers?” 

The trio were silent and so Morgan pressed on. “If these chemical attacks that have badly disfigured their forces have truly been going on for months then every soldier we passed should have had some sort of protective gear they would have been scrambling for at the mere warning of a chemical strike.” 

“We were underground in a secure facility.” the Flinchestet added, “There would have been no need to have such protection.” 

“By that logic then why do ships have escape pods if they were built to not to be destroyed?”  It was here that Tilith spoke for the first time, her voice soft but with a tone that seemed to extend each syllable longer than it needed to be. 

The Flinchestet looked as if they were going to say something but stopped themselves as if realizing Tilith’s point, but Jaldel was still not convinced. 

“Kucvulan himself did not carry one and that confidence must have inspired his troops take comfort that if there commander did not need protection then they must be safe.”

Morgan stubbed the butt of his herbal wrap into the arm of his chair and then tossed it aside into a waste container. “Since you brought him up I think we should discuss the war strider himself next.” 

Jaldel scoff and reclined in her seat. “What is there to discuss? He seems the perfect model of a Tugundan officer.” 

“A bit too perfect for my liking?” Morgan said downing the remains of his drink in a single go. 

“Is that a hint of jealousy I hear in your voice?” Jaldel prodded. “Is this all some big show to hide your displeasure at being shown up?”

Morgan laughed loudly and swatted his chair arm at Jaldel’s words. It took him some time to recompose himself and wipe the tears from his eyes before staring down Jaldel. 

“Why would I be jealous of a man so eager to get his head blown off by the first enemy sniper?” 

The trio once again looked confused and now it was Morgan’s turn to lean back into his chair. 

“No sane officer would wear such a brightly colored uniform covered in medals and commendations on front lines. You might as well tie a little sign around your neck saying “Shoot me, I’m important.” Tilith chuckled and the Brumark coughed loudly when Jaldel glared at him. 

“When we passed the soldiers I touched several of them. Though it was brief their minds were full of anguish and pain from the previous days.” 

The Flinchestet’s mind entering ability through physical contact appeared to back Jaldel’s perspective. She nodded to the Flinchestet and smirked at Morgan. “You can not hide the secrets of your mind from a Flinchestet.” 

“Unless you’ve seen a few slasher flicks so I’m told.” Morgan remarked under his breath.“I will grant you I can not deny our colleagues ability, but the evidence does appear to tell a different story.” 

“Any other points that concerned you?” Tilith said, sipping once more from her glass.  

“The last item that struck me as odd was the absence of the prince for our talks.”

“You heard Kucvulan; the prince was on the front lines directing the war.” Jaldel’s rebuke was swift as it was to the point. 

This time it was Tilith to voice her concerns. “This did strike me as odd. What knowledge we Hive have of the prince.”

“Why do you say this?” the Brumark spoke, his attitude suddenly now more interested in the discussion. 

“I entered the Hive subspace and connected with the Hive directly and learned all information we had regarding the prince.” Tilith began, he talons slowly clacking against the decking. “We know that the prince is brash, direct, unimaginative, and hopelessly narcissistic. He is of the kind that would not have missed a chance to show himself off to members of other species.”

“I agree.” Morgan said, much to the surprise of Jaldel. “But all of this leads to a far more dangerous question than the ones we have been contemplating on.”

“And what would that be?” 

“If the Tugundan’s are not capable of such deception, than there is some unseen force here guiding them in the ways of subtly and misdirection.”  Morgan cupped his hands and rested his chin on them as he stared out the window. “And if there is such a force aiding them in this war, we must wonder if they are far more dangerous than the Tugundan war machine.” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kucvulan watched the shuttle retreat back above the clouds before returning to the command bunker. He waited until the doors slammed shut behind him before removing a compact communication device and activating it. 

“Everything was done per your request. The delegation is none the wiser.” 

A small image began flickering into place and a man cloaked midnight black coat appeared before Kucvulan. 

“Did it?” the shadowy man remarked. 

Kucvulan was confused for a moment. “Yes, we did exactly as you said and performed the roles assigned to us.” 

The man in the image looked frustrated and shook his head. “You did not. You improvised and put the entire plan in jeopardy!” 

“I-” Kucvulan began before the man continued in a far angrier tone. 

“You were to wait until the first shells hit the ground before ushering the delegation inside but instead did so before the fact! Do you think they are stupid?!” 

Kucvulan remained silent as the man continued to vent his anger. 

“You were aware of how events would play out but instead of keeping that knowledge to yourself you blatantly shared crucial information to them without even being asked for it! It is not a misdirection if you loudly announce “Look here, don’t look over there!” you half wit imbecile!”  

Had it been anyone else speaking to Kucvulan he would have removed their arms from their body and beat them to death with it for such insults. Yet this man had earned the respect of the royal family and his words were theirs. He could not disobey. 

“Forgive me, Yuri. I am not accustomed to such acts of... deceit.”

Yuri pinched his brow and took a long slow breath as if he was explaining his anger to a child. After some time he opened his eyes once more and glared at Kucvulan. 

“Do not endanger this war when we are so close to winning it. We do not need the Cosmic Federation’s intervention just as we have regained the initiative.” 

Kucvulan nodded. “What are your orders now?” 

“I am sending you further instructions for you and your men for events in the coming weeks while negotiations continue. Follow them to the letter. No deviations, no improvisations, no off the top remarks. Just. Follow. The. Instructions.”

With that the communication was disconnected and Kucvulan was left a mix of duty and rage. 

Leave it to humans to make things complicated, he thought as he went to get the new orders.

[thewayshedreamed]

Operation Ghost Leopard— Lysaedion AU

Thank you for the prompt, Non! I really enjoyed writing this one— it’s the first Lysaedion I’ve ever written and the first Throne of Glass fic I’m publishing. Gotta love a prompt that pushes you!

Prompt: Can u write a Lysaedion fic 🙃 Sorry to send u so many prompts lol I’m feeling inspired but don’t feel like writing haha

Hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is always welcome, especially being that I haven’t written these two before!

——————————————————————————

Lysandra turned her head over, fluffed the loose waves, and flipped them back over as she stood up. She adjusted her cleavage in her low-cut ballgown and pulled the fabric down her hips a little to make sure it was as smooth as possible. Exhaling a long breath, she righted her shoulders and walked from the bathroom to the gala ballroom.

Her gown was a beautiful, rich emerald green that hugged her curves and made her eyes sparkle in the low light of the room. She was attending said gala as part of her current mission, which required her to play the part she most resented. People often commented on her beauty, with her bright green eyes, dark brown hair, generous curves, and full lips. She was flattered by the compliments in her younger years, before she realized her beauty was slowly becoming her identity.

She grew exceedingly tired of the assumptions she so often encountered when meeting new people. She was treated as shallow, vapid, and for whatever reason, less intelligent than those around her. She was by no means ungrateful for her blessings; she knew there were many women who would kill for them. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help feeling underwhelmed by the assignments Arobynn tossed her way, wishing for a little more substance in her work.

She looked down toward her cleavage, making sure the microphone that was sewn into the neckline of her dress was intact and well-hidden. Tern had done a formidable job hiding it within the fabric, but she felt as though he’d felt the need to “adjust it” a few too many times tonight. She was grateful to be out of his company for the time being.

Lysandra scanned the room for her target. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and made her way over to a waiter holding a tray of champagne. She smiled to him sweetly as he handed her drink over, thanking him for serving her. She surveyed the room over the lip of her glass, praying to the gods that she would see that head of golden hair. The sooner she located him, the sooner she could start building her rapport with him, and the faster this night would move.

Aedion Ashryver was anything but an easy target. Not only was he nobility, but he had extensive experience in battle and security, requiring an especially clever agent to complete this mission. When Arobynn had briefed her (along with Tern and the others), he had instructed her quite firmly to complete this mission by any means necessary.

Historically, that had always included bringing men home, whether it be to serve as a companion for the evening or offer her body to them. Lysandra wouldn’t claim that the thought didn’t repulse her each and every time, but her work was not for the feint of heart. Besides, she owed an incredible debt to the man she worked for, and it would be some time before she felt entitled to any sort of opinions on the matter. The consequences of those opinions were too grave to consider.

She knew she was in this position to tempt the young prince away from his post, allowing the rest of the men to move in on Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. His reputation as the party prince and his willingness to sleep with most were no doubt the reasons Lysandra had been selected for this mission. If anyone was going to stand in the way, it would be Aedion, who loved his cousin so fiercely that he wouldn’t hesitate to employ any skill in his repertoire to ensure her safety.

Arobynn and his men needed as many barriers eliminated as possible in their quest for the princess; a ploy to ensure the royals knew of his reach and influence in the area. Additionally, it was no small secret that he carried great affection for Aelin, and he believed she owed it to him to entertain the potential of a relationship after all they had been through.

That thought alone made Lysandra want to punch him in the throat. The nerve. The entitlement. As if the princess were indeed property.

She huffed a breath, still scanning the massive room for Aedion. She meant to walk forward, hoping to make a loop about the room, before a deep voice interrupted her.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, miss.”

Lysandra turned her head sharply and had to look up to peer into the face of her greeter. Her green eyes fell on ones of bright turquoise with a ring of gold; Ashryver eyes through and through. She scanned his face, observing how he had his golden hair swept into a low bun at the back of his head. If she truly had to complete this mission by any means necessary, she decided she could be much worse off than the beautiful man next to her.

She plastered her most dazzling smile on her face as she answered him. “I don’t believe you have,” she said, extending her hand to him. “Olivia.”

His mouth quirked up at one of the corners, amusement sparkling in his eyes. He took her hand in his, bowing slightly to place a chaste kiss to the back of it.

“Aedion. It’s lovely to meet you, Olivia.” He smiled, and she swore her heart skipped a beat. “Care to join me for a drink?”

“I would love that.”

——————————————————————————

About an hour later, they were each several drinks in, having settled at a table near the dance floor. Lysandra had just finished laughing at something Aedion had said moments before, and when she looked back to him, she felt like she wanted to pretend... pretend that she wasn’t an agent hired to sabotage the security of this party. That her participation didn’t effectively ruin any chance that she would ever get to have a genuine night like this with the young prince. He had been nothing but a gentleman the entire evening, and to top it off, he was charming and had a fantastic sense of humor... two things not common in the men she so often spent her time with. She was interrupted from her thoughts, once again, by that intoxicating voice.

“Olivia, would you dance with me?”

“Oh, I’m no dancer. But I appreciate the offer, Prince.”

He chuckled at her. “I told you to stop calling me that. It feels too proper. Please, call me Aedion.”

“Are your intentions with me improper, Aedion?” she asked. She didn’t know what had made her so bold so quickly, but she had a suspicion that it had to do with thoroughly enjoying his company.

She hoped she hadn’t crossed the line too quickly, but she was immediately comforted when he threw his head back and laughed.

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

Something in the words made her toes curl, and she had to shake her head slightly to refocus. He stood, holding his hand toward her.

“Seriously, let’s dance. I promise to lead, and I’ll even let you stand on my feet if you’re that bad off. Trust me.” The way he said the last two words made her stomach sink as if it were filled with lead. Guilt had never struck her on a mission before tonight.

He led her to the dance floor, lifting her hand in the air to spin her once, before gripping her waist with his other hand. She kept her one hand in his and rested the other on his shoulder. He guided her through a waltz, coaching her as needed. She found that he was an excellent teacher, and before long, they were gliding across the floor together.

“You’re a great dancer,” she said. She looked up into his face to find him already looking at her.

“Surprised?” he asked, taking that opportunity to pivot and spin them quickly a couple of times to the rhythm of the music before returning to their original steps.

She laughed, delighting in the way he led her so seamlessly across the dance floor. He wore a matching smile, and she found herself trying to commit it to memory.

“Honestly? A little. I didn’t exactly expect a former General to be so light on his feet.”

He gave her a sheepish smile, not missing a single step as he answered. “Ah. Well, neither the military, nor the war itself, saved me from the years of cotillion.” He ended with a grimace.

“You don’t seem too enthused about that,” she laughed. It was quickly drowned out but the popping of the speakers near the stage, startling her toward.

He steadier her, and she righted herself quickly. “Teenage Aedion was an absolute nightmare regarding cotillion, but my mother was relentless. All comes with the territory, I suppose.” He led them into another couple of swift turns, and as they did so, the damned speakers popped for a second time.

Lysandra jumped despite her effort not to, earning a low chuckle from Aedion. “It’s okay, Liv. Just noise interference.” Even so, he pulled her a little closer to him.

Gods, he was so fucking nice.

Just as quickly as she had the thought, she felt inclined to take it back. His hand started to slide up her waist as they moved, dangerously close to the underside of her breast. She supposed he’d earned his reputation from somewhere, and she was about to experience it.

“What do you say you and me get out of here for a little while? I could use a break from the noise,” he purred.

By any means necessary.

She held her breath, but he pulled his hand away slightly before he placed it on her ribs just below her collarbone, covering the neckline of her gown on that side of her body. He leaned his head close to her opposite ear, her breathing more and more shallow as he moved.

She cursed her heart for beating so intensely, knowing he could feel it due to the placement of his hand. She managed to keep her face somewhat neutral, not daring to look at him. She gave a brisk nod before he continued.

“Tern should have invested in better equipment. Your mic isn’t playing nice with the sound system, Lysandra.”

She stumbled slightly, but she corrected herself quickly, hoping no one noticed. He spoke again quickly.

“Give them the signal,” he instructed, as he brushed his lips over hers.

It took her a second to realize his meaning. Give them the signal that we’re going to find somewhere to enjoy each other.

Understanding dawned on her then— he was playing into his known reputation, looking like the promiscuous prince who couldn’t keep from feeling her up on the dance floor, all the while covering her mic to shield his words from listening ears. Her anger washed over her upon her realization that he was absolutely capitalizing on this knowledge. He obviously knew she wasn’t at the gala for leisure, and he also knew who she worked for if he knew her name. For a man who had seemed every bit the gentleman tonight, she couldn’t believe he was taking advantage of this situation to have his way with her. And to instruct her so arrogantly to give the signal, confident in what he knew. It had her blood boiling in seconds.

Despite her growing anger, she obliged. She ran the lapels of his tuxedo jacket between her index and middle fingers before placing a kiss to his cheek and grabbing his hand. This communicated to Tern and the others what she had planned next, so at least she didn’t have to worry about their eyes on her for a while. If she didn’t return within thirty minutes, they would go looking for her, but that still gave her plenty of time to hand the prince his ass.

Once they emerged from the ballroom, Aedion shifted forward, pulling her hand-in-hand behind him. He walked briskly down the hall, scanning all around them for any witnesses. The coast looked clear for the most part. Lysandra wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing as it applied to her.

They approached a women’s private restroom, and he pulled her swiftly inside. He locked the door behind him, gripped her by the waist, and turned her so that her back was against it. His eyes roamed her body, paying particular attention the assets exposed by her low neckline and his higher vantage point. She was still bristling with anger, and it irritated her that she flushed under his gaze.

He ran his nose along her temple, across her cheek, and then up and down the side of her own. She lifted her chin, shoulders squared, unwilling to back down after his odd power move on the dance floor. He offered a sideways smile, and she hated that it made her heart flip all the same.

“We only have a few minutes, Liv,” he murmured.

Liv? He already called me Lysandra.

“What are you waiting for?” she challenged.

He broke into a full grin at that, eyes glancing at her scarlet lips. His gaze darkened as it dropped past her mouth, landing on the neckline of her gown yet again. His hands came up, his calloused fingers running along it back and forth. She thought he aimed to tease her, but suddenly, he had gripped her gown on each side of her sternum and yanked. The gown ripped open down the middle, and any plans she had to seem collected vanished. She gaped at him, utterly speechless.

Rather than groping her chest, he rubbed the layers of fabric between his left thumb and fingers. Once he landed on what he was looking for, he fished her microphone out from between the layers, disposing of it in the sink and turning on the water. She watched as it danced under the stream, seeming as chaotic as her heartbeat and the thoughts running through her head.

“What the hell was that?” she whispered roughly.

He angled away from her as he shrugged off his jacket. He spoke, but his words weren’t meant for her.

“Come in, Whitethorn.”

A few seconds of silence.

“Have the wolves engaged the others?”

He was unbuttoning his white dress shirt. Once he got four of the buttons loose, he gripped it between his shoulders with one of his large hands and pulled it over his head.

“I’ll keep you posted on our location. Notify me once Salvaterre is in position.”

His attention turned to Lysandra again, keeping his gaze locked above her neck.

“Take off your dress and put this on,” he ordered, throwing his white shirt toward her.

“You’re not serious.”

“Look, I’ll turn around, but we don’t have a lot of time,” he said impatiently as he pulled his belt from their loops around his waist.

She did as he said, letting the ripped gown fall to the floor. She eased the massive shirt over her head and was enveloped in his scent. She didn’t hate it.

“It’s on. Now will you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

He shoved his belt toward her, and when she offered him a confused look in return, he elaborated.

“Don’t women do something with these to make a dress or something? Put it around your waist. I’ll roll up your sleeves.”

He worked around her efficiently, despite her frequent movements to wrap the belt around her. She pulled it tight, wrapping the excess around itself and tucking it under.

“You still haven’t told me anything, Aedion.”

He pulled the elastic from his hair, letting his long, golden locks fall to his shoulders. She couldn’t help but give him a once over. The fact that he was now in nothing but his slacks, a plain white v-neck stretched tightly across his shoulders, and his hair hanging freely was quite distracting, to say the least.

“I’m on a bit of a mission myself. The twins are working the room near your colleagues to serve as a distraction and to buy us some time. Being that they won’t look for us for another 20 minutes or so, we should be okay. But you’re not exactly easy to sneak out of an event in a tight green dress and looking... like you do,” he explained. He handed the elastic to her, prompting her to pull up her long locks.

“You were quite clever out there. With the mic and all that,” she deadpanned. “I should have known you were up to something.” She pulled her hair into a messy bun and regarded him as he shoved his bow tie into his tuxedo jacket.

“Last I checked, people didn’t earn high ranks in the military or high-profile security positions by looks alone,” he joked. He turned to look her over, running a hand through his hair.

“Gods, you couldn’t be plain if you tried,” he remarked under his breath.

She tried not to blush under his praise, but her body had already betrayed her. His eyes fell to her mouth, and she felt her body heat under his appreciative gaze yet again. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb resting on her bottom lip. She was holding her breath, but his next words brought her abruptly back to the present.

“Lick my thumb.”

She blinked up at him and pulled her head back slightly. “I’m sorry, what?”

He rolled his eyes, daring to look exasperated. “I’m going to wipe off your lipstick. We’re meant to be sneaking out after a quick romp in the bathroom.”

“Please don’t say romp. And, no.”

“Fine,” he said and made to move his thumb toward his own mouth. He was too close and his scent was all over her. She couldn’t think straight.

“Wait! Stop,” she gripped his hand and brought his thumb between her lips. She watched as his pupils dilated, but he shifted his focus to his task as if he was completely unaffected. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, then her top lip, and he spent a little additional time cleaning things up around her Cupid’s bow. She hated the heat that rushed through her at his touch.

He cocked his head as he finished, and she realized it must be because he was receiving some type of communication.

“10-4. We’re on our way,” he responded.

“Why should I go anywhere with you? They’re going to look for me. I can’t just leave. What the hell is this about?” The words poured from her, one statement after the next, all rapid fire. She almost mentioned that he was playing right into her own mission by leaving the princess vulnerable, but she knew it was unwise.

He scooped her gown from the floor and shoved it into the large trashcan in the bathroom.

“I need you to trust me, okay?” The earnestness in his expression broke her heart. “They can come looking for you. They won’t find you, and you’re officially under the protection of the royal family of Terrasen, anyway. They can’t hurt you.” He threw his vest and jacket over his arm, gripping her hand as he opened the door.

He flipped off the light, leading her down the dim hall near the ballroom. They slipped into one of the side doors, and he placed her between himself and the wall as they walked the perimeter of the gala. He walked quickly, his long legs making it nearly impossible for Lysandra to keep up with him without stumbling. She observed the twins holding court near her colleagues, and she dipped her head in the hopes that they wouldn’t see her. She hadn’t made the conscious decision to do so, and she realized then that she was more onboard with this exit than she’d been willing to admit. They approached the doors toward the front of the ballroom, and he shifted her in front of him so that her form would be blocked by his large frame from anyone inside the event.

They made it through the lobby in seconds, and he gripped her hand to guide her toward a large, black SUV. She skidded to a halt, feeling compelled to warn him of the threats to his cousin.

“They’ll look for Aelin,” she breathed.

He pulled her slightly to continue walking, speaking in a hushed tone. “The princess will be fine. We have to keep moving.”

Guilt poured through her, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain everything to him. She wouldn’t have the time, anyway. They approached the SUV, and he pulled the door open roughly, ushering her inside as quickly as she could move. He hauled himself inside after her, speaking lowly.

“Target secured. You may retreat.” She realized he was talking to the twins inside. A dark, intimidating man sat in the driver’s seat, and Lysandra assumed he must be “Salvaterre”. He pulled forward, easing them away from the building, but hitting the gas urgently once they turned onto the highway.

A large, tattooed hand reach from the seat behind them, making her jump in surprise. The hand gripped Aedion’s shoulder, giving it a slight shake. “Well done, brother,” he praised.

“Are one of you going to tell me what the hell is going on? Since Ashryver here seems unwilling to do so?” she demanded, impatience tickling her spine.

None of the men spoke, but she felt the smooth caress of breath over her ear. She turned, and a pair of turquoise eyes identical to Aedion’s locked with her own. The princess of Terrasen looked at her, her chin resting on her folded arms over the back of the seat.

“Evening, Lys. It’s been too long,” Aelin cooed.

“Aelin,” she said as a greeting. She didn’t have anything else to add.

“Maybe I could offer some insight,” she remarked, eyes scanning Lysandra’s face but never showing any signs of discomfort at the tension.

“And why would you be able to do that?” she seethed.

“I’m the one that asked them to find you.”

——————————————————————————

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[ofstarsandfireflies]

I didn’t have this movie.

Can you believe that?

I had to purchase this movie because I’d assumed I already had it.

In all fairness, Tony was a little overprotective of the kid.

He was his kid after all.

So when Spider-Man wants to do more than just help little old ladies cross the street or save cats in trees, Tony says no.

He doesn’t want Peter fighting in do or die situations where Tony himself has almost lost his life on more than one occasion.

He’d be worried sick.

And that is how their fight started.

That is how Peter takes the tracker out of his suit and goes off in search of a way to prove himself.

And that is how Peter is abducted, seemingly by a god damn Sorcerer.

Tony’s first thought is his ex husband Stephen, hoping he’d followed him and has Peter safe, already dialling Strange’s number for answers.

Of course, Strange doesn’t have any, but he’s more than willing to help Tony find his kid because Peter is his kid too.

Their marriage hadn’t lasted long, but long enough for them both to have signed the adoption papers and for Stephen to have become a permanent memory to Peter.

Tony has always admired that Stephen wanted to stay as part of their lives despite how hectic it could be, and he’s grateful that Stephen wants to help, but if he doesn’t know who this other magic user is, how are they going to find Peter?

Enraged by whoever has his child and what they could potentially do to him, Stephen and Tony head for the mission destination where Peter had been taken.

Meanwhile, Peter wakes up and meets other kids his age, and the self appointed leader of them, Harry Osborne.

Peter knows the name, it’s almost as famous as the Stark name, but for far worse reasons.

So when Harry sees he’s actually talking to Spider-Man, he decides to let the Peter in on a secret.

The two of them are going to escape, and they’re going to use the others to do so, but he needs Peter on his side as a bodyguard to ensure he escapes.

Peter is not on board for this plan at all.

He’ll only agree to it if they all escape.

Harry tries to tell him that they’ll only slow them down, that he’s the more important one here with his last name being Osborne, but Peter shuts him down again.

Everyone escapes.

No ifs, ands or buts about it.

Tony is not happy about the situation he has found himself in.

Not only has his son been kidnapped, but he’s searching for him with his ex husband, who is just as supportive as he was back then and twice as good looking since he’s kept the grey streaks Tony commented on last time they saw one another.

But he won’t let himself focus on that.

Peter was in danger and now was not the time to be getting hung up on feelings that he should have buried a long time ago.

Stephen isn’t having as much luck as Tony is.

He can’t focus on anything when Tony is bending down to look at something and showing him just how tight those jeans really are.

Stephen is walking over to him before he can stop himself, looking at the drag marks Tony is running his hand over, analysing the track with his glasses.

They were made by the exact same sneaker type and size Peter wore, and their trail leads away to the left, their path highlighted to him only.

Stephen watches him walk off without a word to him, sighing to himself as he follows.

The trail ends but there’s no tyre marks or anything else for him to follow.

It’s like he vanished into thin air.

And just like that, their only lead is gone, and Tony looks so small as his body starts to shrink in on itself.

Stephen steps up behind him, wrapping his arms around his chest to offer some comfort and Tony is immediately throwing himself away from him, yelling at him that now is not the time, that there’s something wrong with Stephen if he thinks now is the time for getting his freak on and Tony has to find HIS son, not their son, all while Stephen just stands there and takes Tony’s anger.

But when Tony decides to finish yelling and find Peter by himself, they both realise there are three villains surrounding them, all of whom have given Peter some trouble in the past.

One of them, Kraven the Hunter, steps forward and while the two Avengers think they’re in for a fight, the villain isn’t here for one at all.

In the most bizarre turn of events, these three men are trying to reform themselves for society so they can get back to their lives and their families.

If they help out two Avengers with finding a third, they’re bound to put in a good name for them, right?

And that is how they learn about a new villain calling himself Mysterio.

He shouldn’t even be allowed to call himself a villain because he refuses to get his hands dirty, giving out orders and using ‘magic’ tricks to fool people, in this case kids, to be lured away to be sold in the human trafficking ring he’s currently running.

Stephen has heard enough, and has decided Tony has heard enough too, quickly telling the three men they will talk to some people before making a portal so he and Tony can leave.

But Tony doesn’t want to leave.

What if they have Mysterio’s location?

What if they can help them find Peter?

The three men are so moved by Tony’s determination to find his son that the name completely goes over their head, one of them crying about how he’d do anything for his daughter, but Stephen believes they have all the information that they’re going to get out of them, and that bringing them along could cause issues down the road if they decide to turn on them.

When he tries to leave again, Tony grabs his hand a little too tightly in his gauntlet, making Stephen wrench it free and slicing it open.

Tony is apologising and trying to get the stubborn Sorcerer to let him have a look at the damage, blood dripping onto the ground when he finally gets him to show him the cut.

And that is when Kraven pounces, the other two men yelling at him to calm down as Tony and Stephen slip through the portal and close it.

There’s silence between them as Stephen struggles to bandage his hand up, Tony taking over and doing it for him like he used to back when...

Well, that was then.

He shouldn’t be thinking of those days gone.

Not with Peter still in danger.

Stephen can’t help but smile as he remembers those times as well, quickly fading when reality settles back in and Tony is moving away from him.

They have a name, one Tony already has an identity and an address for, and Stephen makes the portal to the apartment where this man has been living.

They find a cluttered mess of drones and other tech this guy has been using, but one thing stands out to both of them.

A helmet like an overturned fishbowl, linked up to a server where it’s apparently downloading something.

And when they both go to reach for it, it topples to the ground and shatters, triggering the servers to begin erasing themselves.

Tony gets Friday in there to prevent any evidence from being destroyed, but while she does stop the purge, she finds nothing that can help them find Peter.

So, the blame game begins again, Tony ultimately telling Stephen to leave so he can find his son in peace without any more delays.

Stephen isn’t going anywhere though. Tony might not want his help but he’s stuck with him whether he likes it or not.

Tony is about to retort when the room they’re in turns completely black, the whirring of the now alive drones the only sound around them.

Stephen makes his way over to the blue light on Tony’s chest so they can get out of here together.

Friday can’t see their way out, Tony’s armour isn’t responding and Stephen’s magic isn’t working, which means they have to work together to get out of here.

Tony accidentally bangs into one of the drones and it shocks him, but it also knocks into another one, the two short circuiting.

As they both come to the realisation as to what they need to do, the life or death situation they find themselves in becomes a game, racing to get out first and destroy as many of the drones as possible.

Stephen is the winner, emerging first and finally being able to make a portal for the two of them to get to safety.

But when he turns around, Tony isn’t behind him.

He’s still inside the building.

And a convoy of cars has just pulled up.

Racing back inside yelling for Tony to answer him, he sees that familiar blue glow shining dimly.

When he reaches for him, the shock from a drone makes him pull back for an second before he’s reaching again, pain surging through his body as he grabs Tony and hoists him off the floor, tracing his steps back to the exit as fast as he can while drones swarm around him.

Finally they get out, both falling through the portal he’d left open, Tony landing beside him as he manages to stay conscious enough to close the portal, a shadowy figure looming over them as the darkness takes him.

Harry’s escape plan once he gets everyone on board is a failure.

Only he had managed to get out and he didn’t get far before he was brought back.

It’s while he’s being dragged back that he hears about the two Avengers who have been following a trail to where he’s being kept.

Some think it’s for Spider-Man, some think it’s for him, but either way everyone is now on high alert.

When he’s thrown back into the shipping container with the rest of the kids, he smiles at them.

It wasn’t a failure.

He got what he wanted.

Stephen wakes up in a comfortable bed, Professor Xavier sitting at his side and telling him they’re safe.

When Stephen asks about Tony, Xavier nods to the window, Stephen looking out into a grassy courtyard where a group of kids are chasing him around.

And he can’t help his smile when Tony lets them catch him and drag him to the ground to pile on top of him.

Its then he hears Xavier telling him he can help him. While he can’t pinpoint an exact location, he does have an item belonging to Peter.

Tony notices Stephen off to the side with something in his hand.

Something he shouldn’t have.

It’s Peter’s jacket.

Tony instantly pulls the jacket close to him, shaking his head about the fact that only their kid would take a bright yellow blazer from school to a mission like he was on a field trip.

Stephen doesn’t know how to comfort him.

His eyes trail down the jacket and land on a brown hair caught on the back.

He picks it off.

This.

This is what will lead them straight to their son.

And it’s about this time that Harry comes back to Peter with his actual plan.

He will make sure everyone gets out and Peter will follow them and protect them all in their escape.

Peter doesn’t mind playing the decoy, but when he asks Harry how he’s going to accomplish this, Harry pulls something from the pocket of his jacket.

It’s a handful of small berries.

Poison.

Not enough to kill Peter, but enough to stop his heart for a short while.

Peter runs the calculations in his head and comes to the conclusion that this amount is perfect for up to two minutes, so Harry better use that time wisely.

Harry promises and shakes his hand goodbye.

Then he alerts their guards, and Peter chews down the berries.

It is utter chaos when Stephen and Tony finally get to the shipping yard where Peter is being held.

There’s men everywhere firing at them, Stephen taking care of most of them as Tony wrenches open the cargo bin’s door.

The gunfire.

The magical blasts.

Tony’s heartbeat in his ears.

Everything ceases when he sees Peter laying on the floor of the old container and there is no register of a heartbeat on his display.

He feels something trying to pull him away but he doesn’t want to leave.

That’s his son, he can’t leave him here.

A familiar voice, so distant, is telling him it’s too dangerous to stay, that they’ll come back for him, and Tony is screaming, crying, fighting to get to his son as he’s pulled away through a portal and held against the chest of the man he once loved.

The man who had been with him the day Peter had become part of their family.

The man who’d wanted to remain a part of his life, despite their marriage falling through.

Tony pulls away, numb all over, and manages to catch the rest of what Stephen is saying.

He saying he’s sorry.

And Tony just turns around and walks away from him.

He has nothing to be sorry about.

It was Tony’s fault this had happened, not his.

Peter is startled back to consciousness by his name being called.

It was Tony calling him.

He can hear Stephen’s voice too, but by the time he gets to the steel door, the portal he knew to be on the other side of it is already closing, and he can’t give away his position when the others still need his help.

Tony has stopped crying.

He’s stopped fighting Stephen off.

He was too late to save his...their son.

And now, with nothing left to fight for, he just wants to go home.

It’s not the ending Stephen had hoped for.

He wanted them to reunite as a family and maybe get back to how things used to be between him and Tony, because as much as neither want to admit it, they’ve fallen for the other all over again.

And while Stephen still wants to try tell him that being with Tony these last few days have made him remember all the good times they had, all the love he still has for him and how he doesn’t want to forget that, Tony does want to forget.

So he leaves Tony at the X-Mansion to rest while he goes back and utterly destroys what is left of the shipping yard, killing everyone he comes into contact with while fighting his way to where he’d seen Peter’s body.

And the last opponent standing in his way is this man who calls himself Mysterio.

All Stephen wants is Peter.

He’ll let the guy go, there doesn’t have to be battle and Quinten doesn’t have to die.

But this guy sees no way he can lose.

He has illusions on his side, even against the Sorcerer’s magic and with no field blocking his powers, he can still win.

And he probably would have if he hadn’t anticipated just how pissed the Sorcerer Supreme was that his chance for a happy ending had been ruined by this scum.

So when Peter starts hearing screams coming from behind him, he does a quick head count, making sure no one got left behind.

And when they start to get louder and longer, he can’t take it anymore.

He needs to go see who’s in trouble.

They might need his help.

Telling this to Harry gets him a nod and a promise that they’ll be alright now, and Peter goes back to where they’d been held, checking the bodies for any survivors as he follows the cries for help.

And then they stop.

And Stephen is staring at him, his shaking hands covered in blood.

Peter’s alive.

Peter’s alive and Tony doesn’t know.

Tony is heading to the blackbird to be taken home seeming how Stephen up and left him here.

And he’s half way up the ramp when he hears something that makes him stop.

That almost sounded like Peter.

He turns in hope, sees his son running toward him and throws himself off the ramp to get to Peter as fast as possible, recognising Stephen is there beside him as well as he grabs them both in the tightest hug he can manage without killing them.

He doesn’t want to know how Peter is here now.

He doesn’t need to know what Stephen did to achieve this.

All he knows is that he has his son again.

His alive son.

Stephen wraps his arms around him.

There may be a chance for them to be a family again after all.

They can take it slowly.

No need to rush anything.

It’s not like anyone wants revenge on him for what he did.

Quotes

“Clearly you’re not ready and you’re not coming back until you are. You think you can do these things but you just can’t, Nemo!”

“I hate you.”

Tony and Peter’s fight

“We’re all gonna escape.”

“Gil, please, not another one of your escape plans.”

“Sorry but they, they just, they never really work.”

“Yeah, why should this be any different?”

“Coz we got him!”

Harry Osborne talking up Spider-Man

“So we’re cheating death now. That’s what we’re doing. But we’re having fun at the same time. I can do this. Just be careful.”

“Yeah, careful I don’t make you cry when I win!”

“Oh, I don’t think so!”

“Give it up, old man! You can’t fight evolution, I was built for speed!”

“The question is Dory, are you hungry?”

“Hungry?”

“Yeah! Cause you’re about to eat my bubbles! The clownfish is the winner! We did it! Look at us! Dory?...oh no...”

Stephen realising Tony got left behind

“It’s be alright. It’ll be ok.”

“No. No it won’t.”

“Sure it will, you’ll see.”

“No. I promised him I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”

“Huh. That’s a funny thing to promise.”

“What?”

“Well, you can’t never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him.”

Stephen and Tony connecting

“It’s there, I know it is because when I look at you, I can feel it. And when I look at you I’m...I’m whole. Please. I don’t want that to go away. I don’t want to forget.”

“I’m sorry Dory, but I do.”

Stephen trying to keep Tony in his life.

Anything part 1

Tony enlists the help of Doctor Strange when Peter is snatched by a kidnapping ring of human traffickers.

January, February

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15

Day 16 Day 17 Day 18 Day 19

[themurphyzone]

PatB Nova Ch 7

Ch 7: Perturb

AN: This chapter’s somehow got long so a lot of stuff I wanted to originally place here’s going in the next one.

FFN Link

Terran Date 2015.4.23

Since I currently lack access to my regular equipment, I’m making do with an audio recording program from a Terran computer. I must admit it’s not nearly as efficient as my usual method, but it will have to suffice.

Pinky is an…interesting host. I won’t deny that he’s rather generous, and the delicacy he identified as cream cheese is surprisingly palatable. I’ve also taken up residence in his cage which he also kindly offered for my use as a safe place to sleep. The sponge bed has been moved to the cage per my request.

Objective assessment of Pinky: his species is a lab mouse, his eyes have to be some odd mutation because it cannot be possible for them to be that blue, and he’s an amiable idiot. As I’m recording this, he’s currently scolding two inanimate objects for their failure to keep the cage clean in his absence.

Today’s goal: Pinky is planning for a trip to the local mall to obtain a hat to wear for the Derby. Once again, it’s an illogical custom I am unfamiliar with. I’ve agreed to accompany him for two purposes. The first, clues on Snowball’s whereabouts. And the second, to gather intel on Terran habits for world domination purposes. Snowball and I will be able to put my information to good use when we’re reunited.

Signing off for now, the Brain.

o-o-o-o-o

Getting lost, losing communications, and the unrelenting solitude were the major dangers of setting foot outside of Penumbra. Only the first two conditions applied now.

Pinky leapt through the mail slot and danced along the pavement. He wore a lavender blouse that left his shoulders exposed, his shorts made of a Terran material called denim. Apparently, this excursion was also an opportunity to make a fashion statement. But Brain didn’t see the practicality of Pinky’s clothes.  The silly Terran stepped on an odd rock here and there, but his twirls didn’t slow down. Just looking at him made Brain slightly dizzy.

Thin, white clouds drifted lazily in the vast blue sky far above them. Brain looked up, one hand on his brow to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. New Selene and the stars weren’t visible, though they were somewhere much higher than the sky.

He squinted and lowered his gaze to the ground, dark spots forming in his vision and making everything rather blurry.

Brain had switched his jumpsuit and gloves for a Terran disguise, a simple red shirt and another pair of denim shorts, both items borrowed from Pinky’s large collection of outfits. But since Pinky’s legs were longer, the shorts technically functioned more like pants, and the shirt was knee-length. Though it was comfortable, so he went along with it for now.

Besides, Pinky had been shockingly adamant about the jumpsuit and gloves needing a wash. Brain had protested at first since the material had anti-olfactory functions built in, but Pinky insisted and Brain agreed if only to shut up the Terran.

Procuring formal clothes for conquest would just have to wait.

And there was another issue he hadn’t anticipated.

Everything was so colorful and loud. He was so used to everything being muted and dark. Already he missed the ever present hum of the lab technology, and he’d barely set foot outside the door. Brain stood on the coarse welcome mat, on the border between safety and the unknown.

He was just grateful his accelerated healing kicked in overnight, and the bandages were no longer necessary.

“Come on, Brain!” Pinky shouted as he skipped along the pavement, careful to avoid all the cracks. “The sidewalk is great! Just don’t step on the crack, or you’ll break your mama’s back!”

Brain scowled. “My mother is on a different planet entirely, if she hasn’t already fallen victim to the many dangers of the natural world. Stepping on a cracked rock here on Terra will have no effect on her skeletal structure. The two actions are entirely uncorrelated.”

“The corals are related?” Pinky gasped, hands flying to his mouth in genuine surprise. “I knew they looked similar!”  

There was absolutely no reasoning with him, was there?

A large, sleek metal structure roared down the large stretch of pavement in front of them, a cloud of smoke trailing behind it as it rounded a corner and disappeared. It wasn’t his first time seeing one of those vehicles, since they’d been peppered throughout the satellite images he’d viewed back on Penumbra.

A car. One of the forms of land-based transportation on Terra, Brain recalled from the file on Terran technology. Highly practical for traveling long distances.

Cars were much larger in person. The images made them seem so tiny.

And once again, he found himself woefully lacking essential information. Did cars function similarly to a rover? How did it zoom by so quickly? What was the power source?

He looked up at the sky again, but the sunlight had somehow gotten stronger during his pondering, and he quickly averted his eyes.

“Poit. Your eyes are so squinty, Brain!” Pinky lightly tapped Brain’s head, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Don’t look directly into the sun. It’s bad for your eyes and you’d need to eat lots and lots of carrots to fix them and then your fur will turn orange!”

“A side effect of all this light,” Brain replied, making a mental note that carrots were an edible item that caused orange fur. He’d have to avoid them in the future. “I’m fine. Let’s depart for this…mall.”

The word felt strange on his tongue. But his feet wouldn’t leave the safety of the welcome mat.

“I’d love for you to come along, but if you’d rather not, that’s fine too,” Pinky said. There was a slight tinge of disappointment in his voice though, but he still seemed as sunny as the actual star. It was somewhat unsettling.

“Won’t you join my little expedition, Brain?” Snowball wrapped an arm around Brain’s shoulders. Fine mist trailed from the aisam’s claws, surrounding them with an icy chill that traveled up Brain’s spine and settled into his fur. “The road to Eclipse Lab is awfully barren and I could use a little company. Perhaps we could test our skills with star identification along the way.”

Brain shoved him away and Snowball clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“For the last time, I’m n-not interested in visiting that horrible, scrik-ridden m-mess of a lab, Snowball. If you wish to leave New Selene sometime in the next cycle, you will allow me to fine-tune the propulsion system in peace,” Brain retorted, hating the tremor in his voice caused by a brief yet violent case of the shivers. He picked up a wrench and examined it for overuse damage, turning his back on Snowball so he wouldn’t see Brain’s hands tremble.

Whether it was from the cold or the mere thought of setting foot in the place where he’d been prodded and restrained by long, claw-like fingers, he couldn’t say.

“You can’t be an invertebrate, Brain,” Snowball grumbled. His disappointment was palpable, and Brain’s fingers tightened around the wrench. “Our combined intellect is unparalleled and far superior to those imbecilic Terrans. Whatever it takes to rule, whatever it takes to wear the crown, we must seize it by any means possible.”

Then he was gone, and the Conquistador’s silent frame became Brain’s steadfast companion.

“Earth to Brain! Oh sorry, should I say Terra to Brain instead? Come in, Terra to Brain! This is Lieutenant Pinky reporting in! Over!”

Pinky was suddenly in front of his face, and Brain leapt back in surprise. He must’ve been lost in his ponderings again. Pinky held something behind his back, something bright and yellow poking out near his tail.

“Yes, Pinky. I hear you,” Brain sighed. Then Pinky showed him the item behind his back, and it turned out to be the oddest pair of safety goggles Brain had ever seen in his life. The star-shaped frame was yellow and provided little protection for the nose, and the lens were tinted dark instead of clear. “These goggles are highly impractical for technical work.”

“They’re sunglasses actually. Slipped inside and grabbed ‘em while you were pandering. I use these if I’m playing movie star-slash-chiropractor! Try them on!” Pinky said. Deciding it was best to humor him, Brain slid on the glasses, and his vision became a shade darker. The colors were still there, just not as bright. The headache that had threatened to form dissipated into nothingness.

“This is bearable,” Brain said. Pinky was slightly darker as well, though the tinted lens did nothing to diminish his shining blue eyes.

Pinky clapped his hands in glee. “Exactly! Also works for grizzlies and honey bears and teddies! And now you’re a movie star too!”  

Brain rolled his eyes, sweeping his antennae back so they didn’t get in the way. “That’s not a classification of any star. Despite your questionable logic, and I use that word in a fairly liberal sense, the color spectrum of your planet is no longer a strain on my eyes. So…thanks.”

“Aww! You’re welcome, Brain,” Pinky said. “And really, you can wear them in the lab too. I don’t mind.”

“No, Pinky. I’m coming along. I have goals to accomplish during this trip,” Brain said. Taking a deep breath, he stepped off the welcome mat, then hopped off the step and onto the pavement.

It wasn’t as difficult as his mind made it out to be.  

Pinky laughed, and Brain barely got out of the way in time before several ounces of idiosyncrasies could crash into him.

Brain wouldn’t get anything done by sitting around and being too afraid to leave the lab’s safe haven. Somewhere underneath the massive sky, Snowball was likely planning his own day’s activities. And today, they’d be taking the first steps to conquer Terra.

Through any means possible.

o-o-o-o-o

Brain prided himself on his keen observation skills, something that would serve him well when he and Snowball finally exploited the inhabitants’ many weaknesses. Pinky considered it a ‘a blousery, blustery, beautiful day’, whatever that meant, and skipped to and fro in every direction to take in the sights of the city. Brain kept him in view at all times, not wanting to be left alone in this strange world.

He quickly found that the word ‘Terrans’ failed to encapsulate the biodiversity of the planet, in addition to individual differences between members of the same species. Humans varied greatly in size, shape, and appearance, though even the tallest ones weren’t nearly as large as a Selenian. Some had their heads buried in their devices with cords going into their ears and were oblivious to their surroundings, and Brain had to keep an eye out for those dangerous folks since they didn’t seem to care about anyone in their path.

While inconvenient for him, their failure to pay attention could easily be turned into an advantage.

Several humans walked alongside quadrupedal creatures that sniffed the ground and had collars and ropes around their necks that led to a handle in the human’s hand. Pinky called them ‘dogs’ and ‘leashes’. He was more than happy to clarify anything Brain didn’t understand, and while he figured that he would have to research Terra more in-depth later, Pinky’s happy explanations were sufficient for now.

Brain firmly held Pinky’s hand as they passed by a human and a golden-furred dog with large paws and a long, panting tongue. The dog sniffed them curiously and made a ‘groomph’ noise, and though it didn’t seem hostile, Brain dragged Pinky away before the dog had the opportunity to slobber all over them.  

But even the ‘goldy’, as Pinky called it, was more preferable to the tiny, yappy thing that Pinky identified as a ‘Chi-wa-wa’. At least it was yanked back by its leash before it could give chase to them.

Pinky called himself a mouse, and his friend Pharfignewton was a horse. Two species down.

The flying creatures were pigeons, crows, and sparrows. They ate whatever they could scavenge on the ground. The tiny things that scurried around his feet were insects, and Pinky yanked him back from stepping on a sidewalk crack filled with red and black ‘ants’.

“Fire ants will make your feet itchy and tingly!” he warned. “And not the pleasant kind either!”

Brain committed his warning to memory.

Cars crawled by slowly on the street, packed closely as far as the eye could see. They made odd screeching noises from time to time, the humans inside grumpily slamming their palms against their steering devices.

Lights on every corner controlled the flow of cars. Everyone became furious with red and brightened when it was green. He wasn’t exactly sure what yellow was supposed to do since some cars sped right past and others came to a stop. Regardless, humans were dependent on those lights in their vehicles. It was an interesting observation.

There were plenty of additional rules too, which Pinky was adamant on teaching. Only cross at the white strips at the lights, and only when the red hand changed to the green human. Look left, right, then left again before crossing. Pat your head and rub your belly if you see an out-of-state license plate…well, Brain was pretty sure that wasn’t a safety rule since none of the humans were doing it. Just a Pinky thing then.

Everything was alive, from the structures that creaked on the highest buildings to the scattered pebbles underfoot. While he’d known the planet’s atmosphere carried sound far better than New Selene’s,  experiencing it for himself was nothing short of fascinating. He’d have to research the exact composition that made it all possible later. Energy flowed towards him in all directions, though the daytime thankfully masked his glowing orbs.

Blending in wasn’t difficult either. Humans were more oblivious than he thought.

“Last corner, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, twirling happily as they waited for the signal to cross the busy intersection. “Then we’re at the mall! You’ll love it! There’s food and clothing and perfume and toys and-“

“Pinky, what exactly is the purpose of a mall?” Brain asked. Pinky had been rather unclear on that. Mostly he’d just been gushing about all the fun things they could do.

“To do fun fun silly-willy things with your friends and look at stuff you can never afford on a lab mouse’s salary, of course!” Pinky replied.

The signal to cross finally appeared, and Pinky skipped merrily across the white strip, nimbly avoiding getting trampled by several humans walking in the opposite direction. Brain walked at a normal pace, keeping his tail close to his body. He didn’t trust the distracted humans to watch where they were going, especially since their handheld devices seemed to hold more importance than avoiding getting run over heavy wheels.

As Brain stepped onto the sidewalk, an odd texture struck him on the head, knocking his sunglasses askew. Several drops of a lukewarm liquid splashing onto his fur. It didn’t hurt, but it was still an unpleasant surprise. The human next to him didn’t notice. He was too busy yelling into his device and gesturing wildly, then stomped off in a huff. He almost trampled Pinky, who barely managed to pull his tail out of the way before the man’s large foot crushed it.

“Well, he was certainly rude. He littered and didn’t say sorry for dropping the cup on your head!” Pinky complained as he helped Brain to his feet, his blue eyes narrowed at the man’s back as he disappeared into the crowd. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted in the man’s general direction. “Hey, litterbug! I bet your mom’s older than you! Narf!”  

He gave a firm nod, satisfied with his ludicrous and underwhelming insult.

A furious Pinky. That was an interesting concept, yet anger and Pinky somehow remained mutually exclusive in Brain’s mind.

“Not to worry, Pinky,” Brain said, wiping the liquid away from the base of his antennae. He returned his sunglasses to the proper position. “He’s long gone. I’ve suffered worse.”

Pinky took a deep breath, then took a sniff of the cup’s opening and wrinkled his nose. “Maybe he wouldn’t be so grumpy or litterbuggy if he put more sugar in his cappuccino,” he sighed. “Styrofoam too. Can’t recycle that.”

Dragging the cup over to a nearby garbage can, Pinky hoisted it over his head and trying to stick it through the hole on top. The cup was barely over the rim, Pinky clinging to the metal with one hand and scrabbling for a foothold. He wasn’t giving up without a fight, so Brain grabbed Pinky’s ankles to give him the extra boost needed to push the cup in.

Pinky climbed down once he heard the dull thud from inside the can. “Thanks,” he said gratefully, though he still seemed unusually morose.

Brain walked into a section lined with vegetation and dirt that separated the street from the mall. But Pinky didn’t follow. He was looking into the direction they came from. “The cup’s in the proper place now. Let’s go, Pinky.”

Instead of following Brain, Pinky moved to the curbside, looking down at his feet. Really. Pinky came to the mall for a purpose, however inane it was. He needed to commit to that goal.

Brain growled in frustration, grasping his wayward companion’s wrist and pulling him in the mall’s direction. Pinky stumbled, but hardly budged otherwise. “Quit being stubborn, Pinky. The sun will burn out before you twitch a finger at this rate.”

“But the rest of it…“ Pinky whimpered, pointing to the street.

The road was filled with cups like the one Pinky had just thrown away. Filthy, damp, and unreadable papers lined the curb. A plastic bag tumbled in the wind. There were even a few objects that might’ve been clothing at one point.  

Some people passed them by without a care in the world, others clicked their tongue at the mess but hurried on their way. Two people on the other side of the intersection were clothed in white from head to toe, picking away at the garbage with long sticks and depositing them into large bags.

From the sheer amount of garbage that lined the streets, Brain thought it was a futile effort on their part.

This was one of Terra’s downsides. Its inhabitants were destroying the very planet they lived on. It was one of the few observations the Selenian scientists were accurate about.  

Pinky reached for a mass of papers, a revolting yellowish-green grime covering its surface, but Brain pulled him back before he could touch it.

“Don’t touch that with your bare hands, Pinky,” Brain scolded. “It’s unsanitary.”

Pinky pouted. Now obstinance. He shifted moods rather quickly, didn’t he? It was baffling.

“We gotta take care of Mother Earth, Brain!” Pinky protested as Brain dragged him into the vegetation. “Or there won’t be any pretty flowers to sniff and the acorn and pinecone elves won’t ever set aside their differences to sign that peace treaty!”

“The databank contained many details regarding the pollution of Terra, Pinky,” Brain admitted. “So I’m aware of the issue. But cleaning this one street would take time we can’t spare. You’re being sidetracked from your goal, and I can’t achieve my own objectives either.”

“Wait…” Pinky murmured. “You’re gonna rule soon, aren’t you? So you can definitely protect the world! That’s wonderful, Brain! I know you can do it!”

The sudden shift in mood caught Brain off-guard.  

I can? Brain almost said, but the hope shining in Pinky’s eyes quelled that uncertain response. There was nothing but sincere admiration in that pool of blue, a massive surge of electrons flowing from Pinky’s chest into Brain’s antennae.

He would dare describe the electrons as a positive charge. How? Electrons were supposed to be negative! What kind of anomaly did he have the terrifying pleasure of knowing?

Brain cleared his throat, focusing on the enormous sprawling complex in front of them. Pinky’s blind faith was off-putting, and it was much easier to disregard it. “Of course. I will have unquestionable power in the near-future. Solving these issues will be easier than calibrating an auto-navigation interface.”

Pinky blinked.

“And…I’ll oversee those peace treaty negotiations between the elves.”

Pinky brightened immediately. “Thank you, Brain! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Long arms snagged Brain and lifted him off the ground in an enormous hug. Brain’s feet kicked out, but the warmth Pinky emitted had the strangest subduing effect. Brain’s antennae weren’t obstructed either, just swept back. Apparently, Pinky learned from last time.

Brain’s chest was oddly warm. Or maybe it was Pinky’s. It was hard to know for certain.

“Your orbs are so glowy,” Pinky said in awe.

And they weren’t achieving anything from this display of sentimentality! With some difficulty, Brain reclaimed his right arm and bopped Pinky on top of his empty noggin.

Pinky immediately let go, stumbling around dizzily and startling a nearby sparrow with his loud giggles. Brain landed on the base of his tail, a brief painful twinge travelling up his spine. In hindsight, he didn’t plan that well. At least there wasn’t another kink.

“That was jolly fun, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed upon recovery.

If he ever had the spare time, he was definitely researching the differences between actual Terran phrases and Pinky-isms.

“I’m sure,” Brain sighed, though he wasn’t sure and never would be, but Pinky didn’t need to know that.

They walked into a large, multi-level structure that Pinky called a ‘parking garage’, which housed a large amount of dormant vehicles. It was similar to the traffic they’d passed earlier, but the drivers were elsewhere. They were packed close, almost touching, and Brain wondered how anyone could possibly get in or out in these tight quarters.

Another few inches closer and the drivers would be completely trapped. That idea had potential.

Pinky hopped onto each yellow marking on the ground, arms flailing as he tried to avoid the gray areas in between. Brain followed at a more sedate pace. Then Pinky gasped and straightened up just as he landed on the last yellow marking before the mall entrance, Brain nearly bumping into him.

“Look, Brain! Somebody’s dropped their wallet!” Pinky gasped, hurrying over to a black object lying against the curb. He undid the zipper and glanced inside. “Egad, that’s a lot of money!”

Brain peeked inside. A wad of folded green paper was tucked inside one of the pockets. “A currency-based economy? Selene and its colonies utilized barter systems,” he said.  

Which could be an issue. Brain had originally planned to trade the Conquistador’s spare parts for useful items.

“Oh no, Brain. Currants would get squished in your pants. Then you’d need a really strong stain remover,” Pinky replied. “Besides, this man’s very lucky he can buy so many hats! That’s what I’d do if I had any money!”

He must’ve misheard that. Surely.

“Pinky, tell me you brought the monetary value required for your hat.”

Pinky dug his hand into a fur pocket, but only came out with a piece of fluff. “Hmmm, well, I have some dryer lint! Only money I have is Nicholas the Nickel, and he’s cleaning the cage with—oh.” His ears and tail fell limp under Brain’s glare.

Brain kicked a loose pebble, and it ricocheted harshly off the base of a metal sign. Of all the native species he could’ve chosen for a guide, it just had to be the one individual whose head was denser than a neutron star.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky murmured. “I’m not very good at this goal-setting thing, am I?”

He said ‘sorry’ a lot for placation’s sake. But no matter the context, he always sounded sincere. Brain pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to be irate with Pinky anymore.

“You require more practice,” Brain replied. He glanced at the strange, valuable green papers in the wallet. Funny how they came across the commodity needed at this moment. “However, it’s most fortunate that we should stumble on the item required in trade for your hat.”

The money was all in 20s and 50s, and while Brain was unfamiliar with this currency, he figured there would be enough to spare. He took the money out of the pocket and tucked it under his arm. Then he flipped his sunglasses down, but Pinky tugged the money out of his grip before he could walk off.

“No, Brain! That’s stealing!” Pinky protested, slipping the money back into the wallet. “This rightfully belongs to a Mr. Joe Lamont! We have to take this wallet to Lost and Found now!”

Pinky’s stubborn side came out randomly, it seemed.

“The money is here at your convenience, Pinky. You have to use every asset possible to achieve your goal,” Brain said.

“What if Mr. Lamont needs this?” Pinky tapped a card that displayed a human’s photo along with other identifying information. Then he pointed to a small picture of a man and woman. “What if he needs this for anniversary or birthday presents, or else his wife won’t be happy and he’ll be sad cause he left his wallet somewhere and what if someone picks it up and won’t give it back? Cause that’s just mean!”

“Then he should’ve been more careful with such a valuable item,” Brain snapped. Pinky made a noise of disbelief and turned his back to Brain. “So take one or two of the papers for yourself and give the rest back.”

While he’d prefer to keep the entire wallet for future use, it seemed he would just have to compromise with Pinky.

“He won’t notice.”

“NARF!” Pinky retorted.

His assumption was wrong. Pinky wouldn’t accept a compromise either. It was a losing battle, and as much as hated conceding defeat, no other options presented themselves.

“Fine! Do what makes you happy! See if I care!” Brain shouted at Pinky’s back.

He was only presenting the most logical solution. It wasn’t his fault this idiot wasn’t taking the opportunity! And none of this was helping him find Snowball or conquer Terra either!

“Returning the wallet would make me happy, Brain,” Pinky said with conviction.

“Why?” Brain asked. This wasn’t the type of goal-setting he’d pictured at all.

“It feels right.”

Tasks should be performed with efficiency in mind, not for emotion’s sake. But it seemed that keeping Pinky in his normal euphoric state would be in Brain’s best interest for now.

“Alright, let’s return that wallet. Neither you nor I shall use any of the money for personal reasons. We’re heading to the…Lost and Found?” Brain said reluctantly. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to keep Pinky in a good mood. “You lead the way. I’m not familiar with this locale.”

Pinky faced Brain, and the bright smile was back. Brain looked away. He wasn’t doing this out of altruism, and Pinky needed to learn that.  

“Yup, it’s like the Island of Misfit Toys, but for car keys, jackets, and other things too!” Pinky exclaimed, hoisting the wallet above his head. “And now it’s for Mr. Lamont’s wallet!”

The satellite images never pinpointed a geographical location named the Island of Misfit Toys. Probably situated next to a more prominent landmass then.

“Welcome to Macy’s, Brain!” Pinky cheered as they entered a pristine white building. “For all your expensive brand clothing and Thanksgiving Day needs!”

The store was brightly lit, so Brain kept his sunglasses down. Numerous bottles of varying colors were on display. Women shouted from behind their counters, urging passersby to purchase their products. Most people walked by quickly, looking rather uncomfortable and twitchy until they were far from the display area. Only two women seemed interested at all, spraying misty clouds on tiny strips of paper and sniffing them curiously.

“What are they doing?” Brain whispered as he shuffled closer to Pinky for protection’s sake. There was a predatory gleam in those workers’ eyes, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Even Pinky with his near-perpetual cheer seemed uncomfortable, his fingers anxiously drumming against the wallet. “Poit. Selling perfume. All sorts of lovely scents, but this is definitely why online shopping is more popular these days.”

Before Brain could respond, one of the workers suddenly rushed towards them with a manic smile that showed way too many teeth.

“Hi, you wanna buy some perfume buy one and ya get another half price ‘til May!” she shrieked. Without giving them a chance to respond, she sprayed perfume directly in their faces.

Pink mist engulfed them and obstructed their vision. A pungent scent clogged Brain’s nose, trickling its way down his throat, and he let out a hacking cough to expel it. Pinky’s wheeze suddenly turned into a yelp, and by the time the mist cleared, the woman was walking away with the wallet in hand.

Pinky clung to the wallet desperately, his legs kicking out as he was hoisted into the air. “Please, miss! Brain and I—ehem—Brain and I need to give this wallet to Lost and Found so Mr. Lamont can buy his wife nice presents!”

“Oh, it’s a sizeable wallet you’ve got there too!” the woman exclaimed. Brain found her pitch highly grating. “Let’s see, with money like that you can get lilac, honeysuckle, eau de escargot, a perfume that smells like wet goat hair sponsored by Gwenyth Paltrow-“

“I’m sure they smell lovely, but-“

“Very lovely indeed!” the woman spoke over Pinky, who could only dangle helplessly.

Brain gritted his teeth and hurried after them, shaking off his earlier disorientation. When she stopped to jabber about perfume again, he slammed his tail onto her bare ankle and administered a quick shock. Startled, she dropped Pinky the wallet. Brain darted between her sandals just in time to catch Pinky, who clutched the wallet to his chest, slightly dizzy from his sudden fall.

The perfume bottle was aimed in their direction again.

Brain took off with Pinky in his arms, running as fast as he could when those dreaded sandals got too close for comfort. He allowed Pinky to safekeep the wallet, since he was already so protective of it.

“Relentless scrik!” Brain panted as the woman hurled various sales pitches behind them. Pinky wasn’t heavy, but the wallet was a different story. And Pinky made it look so simple!

Well, Pinky was simple in general. Perhaps it was a distributive effect.  

“Brain, go into the carpeted area!” Pinky shouted. “She can’t follow us out of her department!”

Deciding to trust Pinky’s word, Brain ran straight onto the carpet, barely dodging someone’s shoe in time, and his foot caught on the raised border between the carpet and tile. He fell onto his face, one of the sunglasses’ handles digging into his fur on impact. Pinky and the wallet tumbled across the floor, coming to a stop a short distance away.  

As Pinky predicted, the woman stopped chasing them.

“Annnnd there goes my bonus,” she muttered dejectedly. She slammed the perfume bottle onto a nearby counter, startling a sleepy coworker who toppled off her chair in surprise and plastered on a fake smile for a passing customer. He glanced at her briefly and walked away with a grimace.  

“Sooo…welcome to Macy’s?” Pinky laughed nervously. “On the bright side, we smell like radish roses now!”

Brain threw a button at him.  

o-o-o-o-o

They kept to the corners after that fiasco, hoping to avoid drawing attention to a moving wallet. Pinky marveled at the various styles advertised by a human-like object he called a ‘Manny Kin’. He prattled on about the models and clothing, and Brain tuned him out to better observe the humans.

The younger ones appeared restless and bored out of their minds. The adults often stopped to admire an article of clothing, checked the price, and shook their heads before moving onto the next item. Everyone was dressed in a far more casual style than the clothing on sale.

“Oh, here’s the mall center! It’s where all the real fun happens, Brain!” Pinky said, his tail wagging in excitement. “Plus, the Lost and Found is just beyond this store. We’ll make Mr. Lamont happy in no time!”

Instead of a back wall, there was a large, doorless opening that led out of the store. Pinky danced his way across the boundary with a cheerful goodbye to the Macy’s sign. As Brain stepped into the wide open space, he was astounded by the sheer scale of the mall center.

He’d expected a plain corridor that connected different sections, not a massive space with a roof that appeared to touch the sky. The population density was much higher than in Macy’s, humans loudly chatting among themselves, shouting at consumers to purchase wares, and swinging large bags from their arms.

There were two floors above their heads, connected to the ground by staircases and escalators. The escalators seemed by far the popular choice for people moving between floors. Brain felt dizzy just looking at that open space above them, and he decided to focus only straight ahead for now.

Dozens of smaller stores lined the walls. Most of them sold clothes like Macy’s, and Brain couldn’t fathom why humans needed so many stores just to sell clothes. A fresh, rich scent wafted through the air, and though it was much more pleasant than the perfume, it made him somewhat famished as well.

“Look, Brain! The cookie shop! Don’t they smell divine?” Pinky asked with a dreamy sigh. “They taste delicious too!”

“Another one of your foods?” Brain asked, though it fell on deaf ears. Pinky had gone over to the display case, practically drooling on it as he admired the cookies inside, the wallet leaning against his side.

Brain stood on the other side of the wallet, just in case anyone had any ideas about stealing it.

At first, Brain thought the cookies were classified by ingredient, but one of the groups was labelled ‘snickerdoodle’ and Brain was of the opinion that no sane planet in the universe would ever call anything by that strange moniker.

“Let’s be on our way, Pinky,” Brain said, because there wasn’t anything productive he could do while his Terran guide was staring longingly at cookies. “That wallet won’t return itself.”

“Okay, Brain…” Pinky said forlornly. His hands squeaked sadly against the glass, but before he could pick up the wallet, a woman came out from behind the counter, her dark hair tied back in a bun. She approached them with a napkin in one hand.

Brain grabbed Pinky’s hand and the wallet, tensing up in case he had to yank them away at a moment’s notice.

But the woman made no move to snatch the wallet. She only squatted next to them and held out the napkin, revealing two small pieces of cookies. “Free sample?” she asked. “They’re fresh out of the oven.”

“Thanks so much...Laura!” Pinky read the name tag pinned to her shirt, then snatched up one of the pieces and shoved it into his mouth. Crumbs stained his muzzle. “Narrrrf! That was dee-lish!”

Cautiously, Brain took the second piece and bit into it. Sweetness flooded his taste buds, and he quickly finished his portion, the cookie melting in his mouth. If anything, Pinky had understated how delicious it tasted.

“It’s exquisite,” he said to Laura, who beamed right back.

“Glad you enjoyed it!” Laura said. She provided them with wet napkins so they could rid themselves of the remaining crumbs, and they left the cookie shop behind.

“She was so nice, Brain!” Pinky said, safeguarding the wallet once again. “Sugar cookies are my favorites! Well, after chocolate chip and macadamia and snickerdoodle-“

Brain nodded. “She didn’t steal anything while our guard was down. Count that in your definition of ‘nice’.”

Thankfully, they didn’t have to walk far to get to the Lost and Found. Brain hoped to put this wallet nonsense behind them in the next half hour. They had objectives to fulfill.

The Lost and Found was in a hallway that led to an exit from the mall, and Brain made a mental note of its location. He refused to set foot in that Macy’s ever again.

A podium was situated in front of the doors, and the worker behind it nervously held out a box to an irate man in a formal suit similar to the merchandise at Macy’s. He snatched the box and threw several articles of clothing and various lost items to the ground.

Pinky lifted the wallet above his head, his feet tapping in excitement. “That’s the man! He looks exactly like his pictures!”

Mr. Lamont was practically tearing the box apart without any regard for the other lost belongings, and the worker’s eyes were wide with fear. That didn’t bode well. Brain grabbed Pinky’s tail, but it slipped out of his grasp. The idiot had no sense of impending danger and walked right up to the belligerent man.

“You’re hiding it, aren’t you?” Mr. Lamont snarled, slamming his hand against the podium. The worker cowered behind his chair. “Hand over my wallet this instant, or you’ll be out of a job.”

The worker paled.

Brain rushed over to try and pull Pinky back. Mr. Lamont hadn’t noticed them yet. There was still a chance they could slip the wallet among the other items and leave without detection.

“Hi, Mr. Lamont! You dropped your wallet in the parking garage!” Pinky greeted. “Me and my friend here were just taking it to Lost and Found, and what a coinkydink we’d find you here too! Isn’t that great?”

Pinky held the wallet up expectantly, that silly smile never leaving his face.

Mr. Lamont snatched the wallet out of Pinky’s hands, wrinkling his nose haughtily.

“You’re welcome!” Pinky chirped, then happily turned to Brain. “We did it!”  

Pinky had done most of the work, but if he wanted to share credit, Brain chose not to correct him. “Yes. Now we may return to what we originally-“

Mr. Lamont’s foot slammed into Pinky’s side, too fast for Brain to shout a warning. Pinky yelped as he was thrown into a wall. There he laid in a crumpled heap, hands wrapped around his abdomen for protection.

“How much did you take, thief?” Mr. Lamont spat. He cast a looming shadow over Pinky, who whimpered in pain, tears forming in pitiful blue eyes.  

It was such a foreign appearance for the idiotic but kindhearted mouse.

A strange fury overtook Brain, one that was much different from dealing with troublesome ships, arguing with Snowball, or frustration with his current predicament. It brewed in the depth of his stomach and spread through the rest of his body.

Brain whipped off his sunglasses, placing himself firmly between Pinky and the ungrateful reprobate.

“He stole nothing from you,” Brain growled. “Count the money yourself, you repugnant excuse of an organism, unless your mind has degraded far beyond the ability to perform simple arithmetic.”

“And just who do you think you are?” Mr. Lamont sneered.  

Brain crossed his arms proudly. He refused to cower before the Terran. “A genetically enhanced Selenian mos seeking dominion over your world.”

And when all was said and done, Mr. Lamont would be bowing down to him.

But that glorious fantasy was cut short. Brain saw the black sole of a shoe, there was a forceful pressure against his body. His limbs refused to cooperate. He couldn’t reach his tail for self-defense, his heart pumping faster and faster until it couldn’t compensate for the lack of electrons anymore-

The crushing pressure vanished.

Faraway voices blended together, one angry, one meek, and one familiar.

Someone lifted his head, a gentle hand moving his antennae aside, then slowly pushed his head down until he rested against soft fabric. Brain’s fingers twitched. His full mobility would take several minutes to return, but this wasn’t a terrible position to wait it out.

A drop of moisture fell on his face, followed by several more.

Rain?

He’d heard of that particular climate pattern, but had never seen it in action before.

Brain opened his eyes, craning his neck to see this curious phenomenon. But he was met with Pinky’s tearful gaze instead.

He’d learned much of Terran culture during this expedition, but was it really worth all these ridiculous emotions?

“Stop dampening my fur with your lacrimal ducts, Pinky,” Brain said, his voice hoarse.

Pinky managed a giggle, inanity that was far more preferable to all this crying. “Sorry, Brain. I don’t have any milk. But are you okay? P-p-poit.”

“I’ll need several minutes to recuperate. Then I’ll be ready.” Brain felt his cheeks heat up from the proximity. Mobility returned to his right leg, and he couldn’t wait for this mortifying close contact to be over. “Where’s Mr. Lamont?”

Pinky scowled at the name, an expression that looked odd on him, but not wholly unwelcome. “Mr. Lameany called you vermin and left with his wallet. But you’re not vermin, Brain! You’re my best friend!”

A childish insult. He’d have to teach Pinky about using more sophisticated language.

“And you…are Pinky,” he sighed, patting Pinky’s arm.

Pinky smiled brightly. At least Brain could strive towards one of his objectives. They weren’t quite through with business at the mall though. He’d have to tough it out.

But for now, he settled back against Pinky, who happily taught him the age-old Terran method of settling arguments known as rock-paper-scissors.

AN: FINISHED AT LAST.

I am not making stuff up as I write I totally had a plan for this fic y’all can’t prove nothing.

Brain gets to learn good and bad stuff about Terra, poor Pinky gets hurt. These mice can’t even go the mall without something happening, can they?

[shitpostsfromtheinvisiblelibrary]

Day five: Palace

Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, body dysmorphia, PTSD

Rating: T

Pairing: Kai x Irene

Irene slowly trailed a finger down the small scar on the back of her hand, before another, and another. They crossed over and blurred together until her skin was splotched peach and silver, broken up by the scars that she’d ‘earned’.

And it wasn't just the ones on her hands either. The gouge into her arm from Nemo’s island. She touched that one too, it was all rough and jagged at the edges from where that glass had cut her, and then from it being torn even further when Indigo has dropped them all into the shark tank.

There was bullet scar on her chest, the exit wound in her back.

A burn from Alberich’s Library.

The traceries of frostbite around fingernails that she was very lucky to not lose.

She hated them all.

They were awful to look at.

They were a constant reminder of her mistakes. Of all the things that she had done wrong. She had deserved each and everyone of those injuries, a punishment for her own stupidity and shortcomings.

She sometimes wished that she could just… rip her skin off. Be done with all of them. She wanted to forget. She didn't want to remember laying in the snow, thinking that she would die. She didn’t want memories of a bullet hitting her chest, or of peeling skin and flickering flames.

Her body was scarred through and through.

And she feared that her mind was too.

She wasn't sleeping well, she hadn't been for months.

It hadn't been too bad to start with, but since getting a new student, she had been unable to share a room with Kai, and the nightmares seemed to creep back in without him there to keep her safe. Or at least, make her feel safe.

She was aware that safety was very much an illusion, but it was an illusion that she wanted to believe in. And it wasn't like Kai wouldn't try to keep her safe, she knew that he’d try his hardest, just like he had always done. But they had powerful enemies, and he was only one dragon.

Irene reached out and touched the mirror, hoping that the cool glass would help soothe her somewhat, but it didn’t. So instead, she wrapped her arms around herself tightly, and shut her eyes, trying to take as deep of a breath as she could manage with lungs that suddenly ached, reminding her of inhaled smoke and the tang of her own blood.

She pressed her hand to her lips as she coughed, and kept coughing up she had to grab a hold of something to keep herself upright.

This had been a terrible idea.

They’d all decided that they would meet several of the signatories of the treaty, so that they could try and learn a little more about why each of them had signed, and what they wished to gain.

It was one of the last ones of these visits, and they were in one of the many homes of Ao Shun. A gorgeous palace somewhere in the middle of nowhere, France. In the same world that she had first met him in, in fact, the opposite of a pied-à-terre she guessed from the brief tour of the frankly massive place.

She had taken along a few of the more appropriate dresses that she’d collected, plain but beautiful ball gowns that she rarely had the chance to wear. And looking at them now, she wished that she’d bought something knew. Something that hid more.

Her hands could be hidden with gloves, and the bullet scar was rarely visible unless just in her underwear or less, but the burn was on her shoulder and the dresses all had thin straps suitable for the warm weather.

Kai was the only one who’d seen that one.

She lay her hand on her shoulder, the skin feeling wrong to the touch, and she very slowly and very carefully exhaled.

It wasn't like she had much other options, right now she only wore her dressing gown and whilst it was a very private dinner, less than a dozen in attendance, it was still just her dressing gown. She touched the skirt, before huffing and carrying it into the bathroom, hoping that the steam of her bath would draw out any creases left in the silk.

The bathtub was practically a swimming pool with three steps down into it. Irene was grateful for this, being on the tall side of things, she was rather tired of baths that did not allow her the opportunity to fully submerge in the water. She had her own bag of toiletries, but things had been left out on the side for her and upon seeing what they were, added a generous handful of Epsom salts to the water, hoping that the smell would soothe her nerves somewhat.

Kai laughed when he came into Irene’s bathroom to see her sat on the steps to the bath, kicking her feet in the water. He stopped when she looked up though. “What’s wrong?” He dropped to his knees, ignoring the cracking pain of them hitting marble (black and seamed with silver,) and grasped her shoulder. “Irene, what’s happened?”

She waved her hand toward her dress, and hiccuped. “I can’t do it.” She whispered. “There’s just so many of them.”

“So many what?” Kai asked, frowning.

“Scars.” She said, staring at her hand. “I… it’s so bad.”

“They are just little scars, Irene.” Kai said, trying to insist that they were fine. Irene just shook her head and swallowed down a sob. “What is it? Tell me.”

“How…” Her lower lip wobbled. “Can you look at me and not see it?” Kai exhaled and cupped her face, feeling sticky tears on her cheeks. “I can’t not see it.”

“See what? Irene, I don’t understand, what am I meant to be seeing?” Kai said. He was getting more frantic, searching for something that was wrong, there weren't new injuries, he’d have heard an attack anyway. As far as he could see, there was nothing physically wrong with her. “The scars?” He said slowly. “That’s what’s wrong?”

“I am… in bits.” She said. “I don’t know how you can look at me and not hate me.” His fingers pressed into her cheeks and he leant forward and kissed her forehead.

“Irene. You are always going to be beautiful to me, scars or no scars. I do not care about them, and I can promise you that anyone who is worth it, won’t care either.” He leant his forehead against hers. “I would never hate you. Why would you think that?”

“I am in bits.” She repeated. “I deserved all of them. I was stupid, and I got hurt and I deserved all of it.” Kai nearly scoffed.

“You are being stupid right now.” He said before thinking that was probably not the correct thing to say. “Irene, yes you make mistakes. We all do. It happens. But that doesn’t mean that you deserved to be hurt the way that you have been.” He ignored the fact that he was dressed, he planned on getting changed anyway, and sat side by side with her, lukewarm bathwater seeping into his clothes. “How long have you been sat here? The water’s cold.”

“I don’t know.” She mumbled.

“Let’s get you dry and warm, and then we are going to have a talk about all of this then.” He said firmly, getting up again and hauling her to her feet, not gving her the chance to argue no. He wrapped a towel around her, and then another one for good measure and pushed her back to the bedroom.

Irene crawled underneath the covers before he could stop her. “I suppose that works.” He muttered.

He’d been creeping down the corridor to sleep with her most nights that they had been away and he had done that the night before, when they had arrived at his uncles palace. He sat cross legged on his side of the bed. “Now,” He began. “I am going to talk, and you can lay there and listen.”

“In the past eighteen months or so, you have repeatedly put your life on the line for others, for me, and for the Library and even more than that.” He found her hand underneath the duvet and squeezed it. Her fingers were cold. “And in doing so, you have been hurt. You have been repeatedly injured, and this has left you with a lot of physical scars that we took the time to treat and heal.”

He slowly exhaled. “I wish that I could fix the scars that it has left on your mind. You did not deserve to be hurt, no matter your mistakes. You did not deserve any of it. Your scars are a part of you. And I know that you hate them and wish that you didn’t have to see them every day, but that isn't something that can be easily done and the sad reality is that you are going to have them forever.”

“They are hideous.”

“That is just the way that you see them.” Kai replied. “You see them as your punishment. I wish you could see them the way that I do. You are beautiful Irene, even with the scars, you are.” He carefully pulled the covers back and slid underneath them to curl up against her side, still tightly holding her hands. “There is no easy fix for the way that you feel, but I want you to know that you will always be able to talk to me about them if you want to. If you feel like this again.”

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” Her voice was hoarse. “I’m tired.”

“I know you are.” He said, slowly moving to embrace her. “I know, it’s so tiring feeling like this, you need a break. You need that time to heal. Talk to Coppelia, I am sure we can manage without you. And if you need me to make excuses for my uncle, you don’t have to come down to dinner. I’ll make sure that everything is smoothed over.”

“Thank you.” She croaked. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

Kai returned to her room late after the dinner had ended, he’d told his uncle that Irene was simply exhausted and in no fit state to be joining them, it wasn't too far from the truth, she’d been exhausted when they had arrived and it wasn't hard to believe that she simply needed rest. She was only human after all.

She’d moved from her bed to sit on the stone window ledge, draped in blankets and staring out onto moon-soaked fields. She still looked tired and rough, but somewhat more relaxed. He did note that she’d turned the mirror to face the wall.

“I’ll talk to Coppelia in the morning.” She said when he locked the door. “About some time away from work. I need to rest.”

“Thank you. Maybe when you are a bit more yourself again, you’ll see what I do. But I think time and rest are exactly what you need right now.” He touched her shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend to be perfect all the time.”

“I am ninety percent flaws.”

“Yes, but they may you, you, which, I suppose, is perfection in it’s own right.”

[et-lesailes]

in it together

pairing: ari levinson (chris evans in red sea diving resort, 2019) x reader

themes: light angst n drama but a teensy bit of cute fluff at the end

word count: approx 1900

summary: you and your husband, ari levinson, are a part of a group of agents working to rescue hundreds on hundreds of ethopian-jewish refugees, all while pretending to run the red sea diving resort in sudan, africa. when the colonel comes to check in on you guys, clearly suspicious of your presence there, he gets a little handsy with you and it is safe to say ari is not very pleased.

taglist: @world-of-losers​, @viarogers​

note: requested by @clevercamijo​ // tbh this is nothing too intense, more of a drabble really-- but if you want something even more angsty, i totally got you. hehe, hope you like it though :)

** feel free to send an ask if you would like to be added to my taglist of any chris evans related fics!

You watched from the entrance of the resort with fond eyes as your husband was chatting with some guests, his wetsuit slightly unzipped and his hair blowing slightly in the breeze now that it was drier from his earlier dive. You were grateful for this experience; not only were you helping save lives from a conflict you had been incredibly passionate about fighting against ever since you had first learned about it, but you were doing it with the man you loved right by your side, leading your team. You trusted Ari more than anyone else in the entire world, and you had full faith that along with the other agents, you would succeed in your mission. 

The light smile you wore suddenly dropped from your face, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you caught sight of the familiar trucks approaching from further away. He turned his head towards the noise and you could see his shoulders barely tense, though not much else in his features or body language gave himself away; considering his occupation, he was good at acting composed, even under pressure. He politely excused himself from the guests he was talking to, wishing them well on their diving tour before making his way to you, subtly squeezing your shoulder. “Go ahead inside, honey,” he murmured, making sure his voice was quiet; as a part of your cover, it was important no one outside the agency knew that the two of you were married, because it could provide more complications and risks. As far as anyone else was concerned, he was resort owner Guy Thomas and you were Lexi Nilsson, a former member of a waitstaff at a Michelin star restaurant and now a hostess at the resort. 

You nodded your head but murmured quietly, “Be careful.” Slipping inside, you found the other agents, discreetly letting them know of the special visitors who were showing up. You watched from inside as one of the soldiers approached Ari, rolling your eyes at the cocky expression he wore as he asked your husband if his men could check out the resort’s trucks. You hated that man since you met him, and you watched his every movement warily; this was a lawless land, and hell, if he wanted to, he could probably shoot down Ari or any one of the fellow agents and get away with it.

Well, perhaps that was a stretch, but you still did not trust him. You watched as his men inspected the back of the trucks- the very same trucks you all used to smuggle the refugees to safety. You couldn’t help but hold your breath. You knew that Ari and the others did a wonderful job leaving behind no traces, but understandably, it did get your heart racing when your team was under suspicion. A small, smug smirk crossed your lips upon seeing the cocky expression fall from the colonel’s face once his men told him the trucks were empty, now only hoping that he would leave. Instead, Colonel Ahmed only invited himself in for dinner, eliciting a small groan of frustration from your lips. All you wanted was to quietly slip into your room with your husband and crawl into bed in his warm arms, to bury your head in his broad chest and let your fingers lightly play with his soft, lengthy hair. 

But instead, the man came inside, quietly informing you to resume your position as hotel staff, giving you a discreet apologetic glance before turning to Ahmed with a smile on his face, encouraging him and his soldiers to come inside and wait at the table while he went to get changed. 

_______________________

It took you everything not to punch these ogling men in their faces as you stood before them at the table, waiting patiently as they inspected the menu in front of them, though the reason they seemed to be taking so long was because their eyes were on you more than the words in front of them. You could tell that Ari could notice; he was not letting his annoyance show in any obvious ways, but you knew him well enough to read the subtle signs. The way his knuckles tensed to white as he held his glass, the slight creases appearing in his forehead the longer the men took to state their damn order, his stunning blue eyes just slightly darker than usual. Still, you avoided eye contact with him. If these soldiers even slightly picked up on the fact that the two of you had a remotely deeper relationship, it could mean trouble. 

“Would you like some more time to look over the menu, sir?” you finally questioned in the best polite voice you could muster, even managing to offer him a light smile. The colonel brought his eyes to yours, looking at you for a few moments before slowly smirking, immediately making you feel uncomfortable. “I think,” he replied with thickly accented English, “that what I want is not on this menu.” Before you could even respond, he had his arm around your waist, his strong hold suddenly jerking you right onto his lap. Your eyes rounded in surprise, your expression one of pure shock as you locked eyes onto Ari’s, immediately starting to squirm. “Hey! P-please, let go of me!” you demanded; normally, you would punch this pervert’s teeth in, but even in a situation like this, you knew you could not risk giving up your cover. You were supposed to be an innocent member of the waitstaff at the resort, and you would commit to your role as seriously as possible if it meant saving lives. 

Ari looked just as shocked as he immediately stood up, eyes narrowed; you could tell it was also taking everything in him to not grab the bastard and throw him onto the floor. “Let go of my employee, please,” he spoke through grit teeth, glaring down Ahmed with a look of disapproval and authority. “Oh, but Mr Thomas,” the colonel spoke nonchalantly, his fingers squeezing your waist only making you squirm further in discomfort as you tried to fight his hold. “How can I help myself? You see, all the native women here look exactly the same-- so boring. When such exquisite foreigners come, I get… excited.” He gave you a sleazy grin, making you practically want to throw up all over him. “How about we make a deal? You let me have the pretty woman, and I leave you and your resort alone.” Your husband looked at the man in complete disgust, not even bothering to hide it anymore. “Listen, Colonel-- I’m not sure how you run things here, nor do I want to know. But if you don’t get your hands off of her, I will take serious measures to make sure you won’t even have the status to come look at this damn resort, do you understand?” You bit on your lip as you felt Ahmed’s grip barely tighten in anger before slowly relaxing, though he still was not letting you go. Slowly leaning into your ear, you felt his warm breath on your skin as he muttered, “Where are you from, beautiful?” You shut your eyes for a second, forcing yourself to remain composed and to not completely lose it as you quietly replied, “I’m from the United States. I was raised in Minnesota.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Ari slowly slide the knife beside his plate underneath the table, but you averted your gaze from him, instead focusing on the floor so that you would not have to even look towards the disgusting man violating your personal space at the moment.

He suddenly stood up, bringing you right up with him as he kept his hold on your waist-- and that was when all chaos ensued. Ari was immediately up and at him with the knife pointed at his neck, and Ahmed’s soldiers were all standing with their guns pointed at Ari. Ahmed himself looked thoroughly unfazed, even giving Ari his creepy little smile as he stared him down, still holding you tightly by his side. “You have no power over me, Mr Thomas,” he hissed, and you could see the heat practically radiating from Ari’s anger. “Let. Her. Go. I won’t say it again.” He growled lowly, keeping a firm hold on the knife, his eyes locked onto Ahmed’s fearlessly. The staredown lasted a few moments longer before one of the men behind Ari suddenly whacked him in the head with his gun, a gasp escaping your lips as you watched your husband fall onto his knees as he let out a groan of pain. Ahmed simply chuckled as he let you go, eyeing both of you somewhat suspiciously but scoffing. “I’m not hungry anymore,” he spoke with a casual smirk, barely snickering before turning around and leaving with his men.

_______________________

You sighed softly as you gently inspected Ari’s head, making sure there was no swelling before settling yourself back into the sand next to him, eyes flickering over the waters in front of you. “What a fucking dick,” you mumbled, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, suddenly wrapping his arm around you pulling you close to him. “Tell me about it. I wish I could have just stuck that knife in his fuckin’ throat.” He muttered in response, but you were too busy looking around nervously, already trying to distance yourself from the male. “Ari, we’re outside, we shouldn’t--” you began to whisper, but you were cut off by his lips on yours, one large hand moving to frame the side of your face while his other arm pulled you closer to his body. “Then the guests can start rumors about how the hotel owner’s fucking his waitress. I don’t care. Sweetheart, I was so worried about you today.”

You couldn’t help but smile against his lips, kissing him back allowing yourself to melt in his warm and loving embrace. “I’m okay,” you whispered reassuringly, moving your own hand up to stroke his hair gently away from his face. “We’re both okay. And that’s not going to change.” He gave you a small smile, looking into your eyes with complete love and adoration for a few moments before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “I can’t wait until we’ve succeeded with this mission. When we’ve saved every single refugee, every man, woman, child, family-- and... I can’t wait until we can finally go home together and start a family of our own.” He pressed his forehead against yours, looking down into your eyes. “It’s going to happen soon, baby, I know it.” Your smile only grew wider as you listened to him, gazing up into his eyes almost dreamily as you thought about it. You, Ari, and your little baby, whomever he or she may be. You could only hope that child would have the same passion and bravery that their father had, though at the same time, such a prospect concerned you as a future mother. 

Still stroking his hair, you pecked his lips lightly with a breathy chuckle, murmuring, “I love you so much, Ari Levinson.” It had been a while since you had used his full name, considering the two of you had been undercover for quite some time now. He smiled and suddenly stood up, holding your hand to pull you up with him before wrapping his arms around your waist tightly, your full name rolling off his tongue slowly and delicately as if he simply enjoyed the mere experience of saying it himself. “I love you,” he whispered back, glancing towards the waves shimmering under the moonlight before looking back to you, placing a hand on the back of your neck and pulling you in for a passionate kiss, as if professing his love to you in front of the god of the seas himself. 

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 4, I hate April Fools it’s coincidence

In which Sans is that kid who made you laugh in church and got you in trouble. Also, rudimentary sex ed, though probably not at the same time. Chapter can also be found here.

*returns to blaring this song on headphones at a volume between “too loud” and “nngh hit me harder”* Try it, @lostmypotatoes!

It started as soon as they left the room. The guard said his usual "Go and return safely, Your Eminence" in his usual half-respectful, mostly-bored tone, glanced over at the sound of bones clicking on the marble floor, and nearly shrieked as Sans closed the door behind him.

"S'up," said the boss monster.

The man clutched his weapon and inched far, far back, ekeing out a miniature version of "Hail, visitor" from behind the halberd shaft.

Sans gave him a big smile, looming over the poor man with his fangs on full display. Frisk raised her hand very slightly. "That will do, Sans," she said in her High Priestess voice. "You, sir. When I returned from services last night, I found my chambers unguarded. When you have finished your work today, inform your sergeant that I will speak with him this evening and learn the reason for this malfeasance. Until then, no one is to enter for any reason. Is that clear?"

Nodnodnod. Frisk folded her hands and walked as briskly away as her tight gown would allow, clearing her throat to stop Sans from waving bye-bye in the guard's face. They were at the stairwell before she permitted herself to smile under the veil.

"This's gonna be a long day," the skeleton said as they hurried down multiple flights of stairs. "You hafta do this every time ya go somewhere?"

"Correct," she said. "I dare you to try it in these shoes, too." Frisk picked up her skirt enough to reveal her high-heeled slippers.

"Hell, no. I'm not payin' for those in my size," he retorted. But as he came down the wide staircase a few steps below her, his eye sockets seemed to stay pointed at her feet for several seconds, long enough to make her wonder if she was imagining it, and remind her of the times she had caught him staring at her during their lessons.

Actually, it was hard not to wonder about several things. Sans definitely seemed penitent, and he had ignored several opportunities to escape after his initial attempt failed. That in itself was noteworthy, but then there were all those odd, multicolored looks, how he'd healed her after she'd been stupid enough to break her hand hitting him; telling Papyrus that she was "okay" – a standing ovation by his standards – protecting her, touching her face, that jokey "I think I love ya"...

Frisk shook herself. She was being pathetic. Just because she'd gone straight from a convent to an exalted position with no opportunity in between for any romantic endeavors, that was no excuse to latch on to the first male of either species she happened to spend time with! Was she really this starved for affection? Was she genuinely trying to convince herself that a misanthropic skeleton behaving with a shred of decency meant he'd somehow fallen madly in love with her in less than a week? What would she even do if he had, which he hadn't? He'll be gone soon, she reminded herself. Think of what you need to do. Be grateful he doesn't want you dead and he's agreed to protect you!

Besides, there was always the basket of letters in her workroom. Frisk wrinkled her nose, but had to smooth it out as they approached the chapel doors. She never knew who was looking closely enough to see under her veil.

For most morning services, a minor priestess was in charge of the readings, while Frisk directed the choir and gave the closing benediction. This particular morning, she walked into the chapel with Sans three steps behind, bracing herself, hoping the parishioners would be too shocked to do anything but sit and stare.

The organist was warming up as they headed to the altar, and a ripple of gasps and terrified whispers began running up and down the pews, almost in time with the music. When Frisk stationed the skeleton in a partly hidden nook and assumed her position facing the congregation, she came within milliseconds of laughing again: every face was frozen in pop-eyed disbelief, most of their mouths agape. She made the mistake of glancing at Sans, who opened his own mouth and did an impression of the shocked humans that nearly broke her.

There was nothing for it. Reminding herself that Sans was quite frightening to look at, Frisk disregarded protocol again and motioned for the priestess at the altar to move aside. The girl was happy to do so, putting Frisk between herself and Sans.

The High Priestess waited until everyone began to notice that nothing was happening, calming down enough to get curious. Then, "I beg your attention, ladies and gentlemen," said Frisk. "We are joined today by an emissary from the monster kingdom who has agreed to apprentice under me as we strive to renew peaceful relations between our nations. I beg you to put aside fear and hatred, and join me in welcoming Sans as an honored guest of Church and Crown." She turned to the minor priestess. "My apologies, Sister Olivia. Please begin."

To her profound relief, the majority of her listeners seemed thoughtful or intrigued, a few nodding slowly. Only four or five of them got up and left, which was better than she'd hoped.

To her even greater relief, Sans stayed quite still and well-behaved for the whole service. The chapel was lavishly decorated with stained glass, statuary, and an embroidered altar cloth, but as Frisk remembered all too well from childhood, it wasn't enough to look at for an entire hour. She was probably the only one who could tell how bored Sans was as the prayers wore on; she learned quickly not to look at him during the readings, because he kept making faces and forcing her to bite the insides of her cheeks. Thank God she wasn't scheduled to sing today!

The service eventually ended, and she glanced apologetically at the boss monster as people rushed up to the altar, forming a dense, fretful clot around her. The first question to make it through the hubbub was "Is this the skeleton you bested in the dungeons, my lady?"

Frisk had already fielded many, many inquiries about that incident, and had kept her answers vague. Now, knowing whatever she said would be disseminated by people who had witnessed Sans' size and non-ferocity for themselves, she could tell them, "Yes. The monsters have been suffering a famine for many years, and Sans was captured in search of food for his family. By the time I came down to speak with him, he had been imprisoned for several days without knowing what his fate would be. Monsters are not animals, and he understood very well that he would likely be killed or enslaved. He had every reason to believe I was a threat and behave accordingly. Since we reached an understanding, he has given me no reason to worry for my or anyone's else's safety."

She let them absorb that information, and it seemed to be working, though the next questions were still "Is it dangerous?" and "How do we know it won't turn on you?" Luckily, the priestess had had plenty of practice at not screaming Were you even listening?! at people, and stayed as calm, patient, and reassuring as possible, emphasizing that the skeleton was not dangerous, and was not her slave, or an "it," adding that he would remain with her for another six weeks.

That last was a deliberate lie. No one was going to take custody of Sans from her through official channels, but anyone who wanted to get ahold of him illicitly would probably make their move closer to the middle or end of his visit, after they'd gotten more information to work with; if they thought he'd be there longer than was the case, it could very well keep him safer.

She wasn't sure if Sans could hear them from where he was, but she suspected he could, because the fifth time someone asked, "Are you sure it isn't going to hurt us?" the skeleton uncrossed his arms and lumbered up to the altar, scattering humans before him like frightened birds.

"Please excuse us, everyone, and peace be with you. Thank you for your patience, Sans," Frisk told him. "Would you like to take a different route back?"

"Indubitably," Sans said, confusing everyone in earshot. "After you, m'lady." He nodded in the humans' general direction before setting off after Frisk, who had folded her hands again to conceal their shaking.

Her heartrate slowed somewhat as they crossed several hallways to the foyer connecting the chapel with most other wings of the palace. Double-paned, diamond-patterned windows reached from a few feet off the floor to the five-story ceiling, and crystal chandeliers caught the sunlight and scattered it like tiny opals across the blue carpet. The marble floors and columns had been polished to near-mirror brightness; a guard in spotless red livery was stationed at every door, with two at the foot of each staircase.

The men did double takes as they passed, but were better trained than those assigned to Frisk's room: they recovered quickly, bowing to the High Priestess and taking their cue to ignore the giant skeleton trailing after her. Each guard was lean and alert, with a sword in hand and a dagger at the hip. "I thought you were gonna sing today," Sans said suddenly.

Frisk didn't understand where that came from till she saw him checking out the weaponry and remembered the assassin's remark about her voice...and her body. Her hands tightened involuntarily. "I rarely do at matins. More people attend vespers, so we use the morning services as practice for the less experienced clergy. I'm essentially there to supervise." She stopped in front of a set of double doors so tall that Sans could walk through without ducking his head. This time, a footman scurried to open them for her, leaving the guards free to try not to stare at the boss monster. "I'm excused this evening because I...well, I was supposed to be there last night. Enough people saw me before the service that I can pretend I was there the whole time."

Sans stepped up beside her, trying not to walk too fast. "Atta girl," he said amiably. "That shit is boring."

The priestess bit her cheek again. "That's no way to speak of a holy ritual," she scolded him.

"Well, I'd rather get a hol-y in my head than hafta do that every day."

She emitted a low snrrrk that made him laugh in turn, and they might have started another cycle if someone in red-and-white livery hadn't spotted them from far up the hall and began jogging over. "Your Eminence!" the man called.

Sans moved half in front of her, but Frisk tapped his elbow and murmured, "It's all right, he's the King's manservant. Yes, Lucas?"

"His Majesty and His Holiness jointly request the honor of your presence at your earliest convenience," said the manservant, sparing Sans a bored glance.

Frisk knew a command when she heard one. "Of course." She beckoned for Sans to follow as the man turned to speed-walk back the way he'd come.

"Have you heard, my lady," Lucas said as they hurried along, "that a man was found dead in the hyacinth courtyard early this morning?"

"Oh, dear," the priestess responded, careful not to overdo it. "Was he murdered?"

Behind her, the boss monster made a very quiet noise, and she turned her head just enough to shut him up. It was almost a shame to waste her acting on one person; she doubtless would have had this conversation with her parishioners if Sans hadn't taken precedence.

"No, it seems he jumped from a great height," said the manservant. "A very great one."

Frisk shook her head with a little sigh. "What a hideous tragedy. Peace be upon his soul and those of his loved ones."

Sans was loudly silent as the servant made several rapid turns and steered them up a series of increasingly opulent staircases, though wider and more richly carpeted halls. Eventually, they reached a set of doors over twenty feet high, emblazoned with the kingdom's heraldic griffins in brass and precious stones. "Fancy," remarked Sans.

"Very kind of you, sir." Lucas stood to attention as the guards hastened to open the door, the guards calling up and down the room that Her Eminence had arrived.

Despite the oversized doors, it wasn't a throne room, or an audience chamber, barely rating the word "chamber" at all; it was just a room with a high ceiling, several expensive chairs and a table near a fireplace. But it was the King's favorite, and Frisk knew from experience that he used it instead of the throne room whenever possible.

King Stephin sat now by the fire, a gaunt, gray-haired man with strong features and dark gray eyes. Next to him was a portly, red-haired priest in richly patterned silver-and-black robes, a marked contrast to the King's plain clothing. "Your Highness. Your Holiness," Frisk murmured, bowing deeply to each in turn. She took a step to the side, sweeping her arm at Sans. "May I have the honor of presenting Sans—"

"The emissary from the monster kingdom, honored guest of Church and Crown?" The king rose and took Frisk's hand briefly, studying the skeleton with great interest. "This is a surprise, but I hope it will prove a pleasant one for all concerned. Welcome, Sans."

Sans grunted. Frisk was petrified that that would be all he did, but then he said, fairly politely, "Thanks, Yer Majesty. Sorry if I don't know how to act the exact right way. No disrespect intended, I just didn't get much training fer this."

The king laughed, clapping his hands and sinking back into his chair. "That's quite all right, sir! I haven't been to the Underground in many, many years, but I recall that my exalted counterpart prefers less formality than is practiced in our court." He shifted to look at Frisk. "So, my dear, what is true in this matter, and what is creativity?"

Frisk smiled. "It's true that I had to work to get his attention at first, Majesty, but we didn't battle for three days and nights, and no one was harmed. All I have been doing since then is keeping him in my chambers to learn herbal lore. As of this morning, I am allowing him to accompany me in my duties whenever possible so that he can learn more about humans firsthand."

"Very interesting," said the Cardinal. "I hope, Your Eminence, that this experience shall justify your asserting authority over this monster in our names, without consulting His Majesty or myself beforehand."

She half-bowed. "With great respect, Your Holiness, it was an opportunity not to be wasted. I will take full responsibility for the consequences of my actions, good or ill."

"I see. You've been instructing him in herbal lore, eh?" The red-headed priest chuckled. "And how would you rate his progress thus far?"

"Superb, Your Excellency. He's the most intelligent person I've had the pleasure of working with," she said calmly.

"Oh?" The Cardinal scowled at Sans. "Tell me, sir, what have you learned in your time with our High Priestess?"

His inflection was just condescending enough that Frisk had to bite her tongue—if this was going to work, she had to trust Sans to speak for himself.

Sure enough, the boss monster shrugged and said, offhand, "The exalted lady has instructed me in the rudiments of phytological science, with the ultimate goal of sustainable agricultural improvements. I like the part where it bubbles."

Behind her veil, Frisk couldn't keep from grinning, and it took several seconds to get it under control. One of the guards in the opposite corner coughed, and the King laughed outright. "Thank you, sir. Your point is taken," the Cardinal said stiffly.

"Sans may have valuable information to impart in turn," said Frisk. "I understand that the Underground harnesses the power of wind and sun at least partly in lieu of magic. It would behoove both our races for humans to lessen our dependence on...traditional sources."

"And with this mutually beneficial exchange of ideas and cultural intercouse in mind," Sans said grandly, "I have a request for Yer Holiness. Can you excuse Her Em'nence from midnight services and maybe some of the other ones for the duration of my visit?"

Frisk started, but allowed him to add, "The lady has a lot to teach me, and it'll take a lot of time. Besides, t'be perfectly honest, it feels weird for me to be in church with 'er. I don't wanna distract anyone, either."

The Cardinal tapped his ring of office on the table. "Your zeal is commendable, but you needn't attend services with the High Priestess. Surely you can study or otherwise entertain yourself while she performs her duties?"

Frisk raised a hand to eye level. The men sat up expectantly, and the boss monster looked confused. "Please don't be alarmed, Sans," the young woman said. "This is necessary, and I will take it down the moment we're through." She raised her hand higher and brought it down, snapping her fingers twice.

The skeleton flinched as a golden dome appeared high overhead, forming a sort of bubble around them. "We can speak freely now," said Frisk, and laid a hand on his radius. "You're all right, Sans. All it does is block sound and images."

Sans nodded, but he looked so uncomfortable that she added, "You really need to lighten up."

That got a chuckle, and he stopped fidgeting. The Cardinal and King exchanged glances, and Frisk sobered as she turned back to them. "I barely survived an attempt on my life this morning. The guard at my door was either removed or persuaded to let a man into my rooms when I was at midnight service, and if Sans had not been there, I would be dead. I've retained him as a bodyguard, but he cannot protect me if I leave him in my rooms."

"Ah," said the King. "Is that the origin of the mysterious corpse in the hyacinth garden?"

"It is indeed, Your Highness. The man didn't leave us an opportunity to ask who hired him, so I intend to act as though nothing happened. We'll see if anyone gets frustrated that I'm still alive and behaving normally."

The Cardinal chuckled, and the King gave her a little salute. "Very clever, my dear, but please clarify something for us," said the latter. "How long will Sans be here, exactly?"

"I've said that it would be six weeks, but it will actually be twenty-five days more, Your Majesty."

"Understood. Thank you very much for your service, Sans," the King said gravely.

Sans shrugged. "To be honest, Yer Highness, she's my best option at this point," he replied.

The King smiled thinly. Frisk glanced at the barrier, then said to the Cardinal, "Your Holiness, how long would it take to acquire copies of the Church's ledgers regarding a very specific class of goods?"

The Cardinal looked at Sans, who didn't know why he was being looked at, and at the High Priestess, and her determined expression. "I don't believe that's wise, Your—"

"I beg you to excuse my directness, Your Holiness, but I will have that information, with or without your intercession, and I would much rather do so without raising any suspicions, or prices." Frisk took a deep breath. "If you do, I may find I'll have enough work on my hands to consider retiring within the year. I understand that my friend from St. Brigid's has been studying for the examinations and making excellent progress?"

The King's eyes widened, and His Holiness raised his eyebrows. "Mathilda Owen?" he inquired. "Yes, actually. She should be ready for the last stages by the spring equinox." He rested his head on one fist. "Am I to understand, young lady, that you would seriously consider relinquishing your position in the near future?"

"I think it's an excellent idea, Frisk," the King said quietly. "Next week is an uncomfortable anniversary, and the Prince and I would be very unhappy to have you meet the same fate as your predecessor."

"As would I, Your Majesty," she replied, earning another little smile.

"I understand, High Priestess," the Cardinal murmured. "You may expect the records in question to be forwarded to you shortly after the Feast of All Souls."

"Thank you, Your Holiness." She looked from one man to the other. "Is that all for now, Majesty? Your Holiness?"

"I believe so," said the Cardinal, and the King nodded.

"Thank you very much," Frisk said. She glanced up and clicked her tongue, letting the barrier vanish.

"To answer your request, Sans," the Cardinal said smoothly, "Her Eminence will attend matins every Sunday, and of course the Feast of All Souls, but otherwise, you may dedicate your time to the exchange of agricultural and magical knowledge. We ask only to be kept apprised of your progress, in which Dr. Serif will also be interested."

"Of course, Your Holiness," Frisk assured him, hoping they couldn't tell how disgruntled Sans was.

They took their leave with great cordiality, King Stephin rising to clasp Frisk's hand and give Sans a benevolent nod. The Cardinal was less gracious, but clearly pleased with the conversation, smiling to himself as the great doors closed.

Frisk and Sans were most of the way back to her room before the skeleton said, "What the crap."

"You were wonderful, Sans. Thank you so much." The priestess smiled at him, earning another scowl and mumble. "To answer your questions out of order, the Cardinal has wanted me to step down for a while now. I pay too much attention to where Church funds are going, and he likes for his minions to be able to steal freely. He doesn't seem to know that Mathilda is just as scrupulous as I am, and better at math."

"Lovely. Any chance he's the one who hired the assassin?"

"I thought of that, but it's very unlikely. He's been investigated for embezzlement and similar misdeeds already, and everyone knows he and I don't see eye to eye, so my death would make him look very bad. He could even be tried for it on a circumstantial basis. At the very least, he'd have that suspicion hanging over him for the rest of his career. It simply wouldn't be worth it."

"Gotcha. And this other chick is...?"

"Mathilda? She was my best friend in the convent. I never had visitors on family days, so her parents would take me on picnics with them. We've stayed in touch, and her brother...is also kind," she said quickly, catching herself too late. "Mathilda isn't as gifted as I am with magic, but she's an amazingly hard worker, and she's been practicing the entire time I've been here."

"Good fer her, but I didn't think you could just quit bein' High Priestess an' pass it off. Ya didn't mention that the other night."

"Because I can't just quit bein' High Priestess an' pass it off," she said in a fair imitation of his gravelly voice. "I told you already, I'll have to either accept a similiar position elsewhere, like Mother Superior at a large convent, or get married. I haven't decided which."

"Right. Now, what was all that about the Church and a ledg—wait, what?"

Frisk stopped to look at him, unsure if he was joking. "It's not complicated, Sans. I can't stop being High Priestess until I either take on another role in the Church or marry someone. I can't just say, 'I'm tired of this, so I'm going to buy my own private kingdom now and do whatever I want for the rest of my life.'"

His eyes were blank, and she couldn't tell what he was thinking, so she shrugged and started walking again. "I know it doesn't sound fair, but the position of High Priestess comes with a large income, and if we were allowed to leave whenever we liked, that would encourage someone to stay long enough to become wealthy and then abandon the Church. It's happened before."

The boss monster seemed deep in thought, which made no sense to Frisk. "So," she said, "what did you think of the King?"

Sans looked at her sideways, and after a moment, he admitted, "He's not nearly as crappy as I was expecting. Is he that nice all the time, or are you a special case?"

"He can be very kind," Frisk said evenly. "I know him personally because I tutored his son for a few years. Prince Gaius has never been very healthy, and when I first came here as High Priestess, he was using his illness as an excuse to get out of everything. The King asked me to show him how I use sounds to focus my magic, so I spent every other evening in the royal suites until about six or seven months ago. I don't visit very often anymore."

The skeleton nodded. "How old's he now? The kid?"

"Eleven."

"That's it? Isn't the king kinda old to have a son that age? Or is that normal for humans?"

She didn't answer. As they ascended the staircases back to her rooms, Sans said, "And ya mean to tell me humans don't use solar or wind power for anything? You just take whatever magic ya need from us?"

"Not for long," she said, a touch of steel in her voice, and he left it at that.

To their relief, a trolley loaded with breakfast dishes had been left in front of the double doors, the guard standing ready to push it inside for her. "Thank you," Frisk said to him, making Sans go in before he could frighten the man any further. All this, she thought wearily, and it wasn't even nine o'clock yet. Sans had been right: it was going to be a long day.

~

Except, it wasn't. She changed into a more comfortable dress while Sans stretched out on the bed for a few minutes before they ate, trading egg puns and seguing into cracking the books open for a morning of study. The word must have gotten around about her visitor, because no one came to speak with her; the lesson stopped long enough for lunch, then kept right going. Sans had been getting impatient doing recipes for runny noses and papercuts, but put up with it in order to learn the basics, and Frisk was already rewarding his diligence with more interesting subject matter.

"Some of us could really use this," he said, pointing to a section on skin moisturizers. "Not me, obviously, but Pap's best friend is always gettin' itchy 'cause she keeps visiting Hotland and she's, y'know, a fish."

Frisk chuckled. "I can see how that would be a problem. Look here: do you recognize anything with aseptic properties?"

"Yep, glycerin. Makes sense t'find it here if it's a humectant, which..." Flip flip. "Yep! It's a humectant—attracts water. Can ya use it as a preservative?"

"You can, but as usual, it's only effective in certain ratios. It also depends whether it's the type made from soybeans or animal tallow. The differences are—"

And so on. They didn't stop again till mid-afternoon, when Frisk had to speak with the sergeant in charge of her guard rotation. "I offer my sincerest apologies, and I take full responsibility," Sans heard from near the door. He had been tasked with stirring the now-medium-sized cauldron in the middle of the worktable. It rested on a small base that kept it balanced and heated, fueled by a touch of Frisk's magic. "The man on duty last night relieved the previous guard at the correct time, but he wasn't present in the morning, and we haven't been able to find him. I beg forgiveness for this oversight, my lady!"

"Notify me the moment he is found, Sergeant. You are dismissed," Frisk said coldly.

The guy kept whinging about how sorry he was, and after a few seconds, Sans decided it was time to heave a huge sigh. The sound echoed in the room, and in the ensuing pause, Frisk opened the door and shooed the man out. "Thank you," she said, coming back to the table and removing her veil.

"Did I mention yer job sucks?" Sans checked the book and removed the stirrer, tapping it to shake off the last drops. "Can't ya just be a normal witch somewhere?"

"I believe I've told you before, the polite term is 'sorceress,'" the priestess answered, sniffing at the mixture. "And no, I didn't study at a convent for nearly eight years to end up as a village healer. I have nothing against them, but it'd be like a countess marrying a farmer—technically possible, and absolutely not going to happen."

Sans' eye socket twitched. Not very deep down, he felt as irritated as he had when she'd mentioned marriage on the way here, with some bonus aggravation at wasting his feelings on something that he didn't even care about because it was none of his business and he didn't care. "Here's what ya need to do," he said with forced joviality. "Hook up with a farmer or some other schlub. Piss the Church off so bad that they leave y'alone. Hire someone ta bump off Mr. Frisk an' pay the local constable to look the other way. Boom, you're free."

She didn't seem amused. "Let me think about it for a no, Sans."

The boss monster tapped his feet on the rungs of his stool and watched her put on oven mitts. She pulled over a rack of empty vials, picked up the cauldron, and began pouring it out into each one without spilling a drop. "Find somebody rich, then," Sans said carelessly. "That way, you can buy that private kingdom with his money 'n keep yers t'play with. 'Course, you'd have to find somebody first—no offense, there's nothin' wrong with ya, but I honestly dunno what yer supply 'n demand looks like. Do humans think it's weird to get with a former priestess, or...?"

Frisk put down the cauldron and considered him with a half smile, a thoughtful kind of look. "It's funny you should mention that. Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure, why not," he said, nonplussed. "What are pals for?"

That got him a real smile, one of the ones that made him forget thinking. The priestess got up and retrieved a small tray from a side table near the double doors, handing him the top envelope from a stack of letters. "I recognize the crest on this one," she said. "Open it, please, and tell me what Lord Gray wants."

Sans dutifully broke the wax seal, unfolded the expensive paper, and began mumbling out loud, "'Salutations, honored lady. I humbly request blah blah the honor of blah blah blah eternal gratitude blah your hand in marriage'?!"

There were two piles of envelopes on the tray. Frisk picked up one stack, laying them aside on the table. "These are normal letters asking me favors, claiming to be long-lost relatives, making improbable threats—the usual. These? They're proposals. All of them."

The skeleton didn't think she was lying, per se, but to her obvious amusement, he opened each one and skimmed it for certain key words, tossing it aside as soon as he found them. When he'd gone through all of them, Frisk gathered the envelopes up, went to the fireplace, and tossed the armful into the near-overflowing basket. "Dirt. I need to have someone file these for me," she grumbled. "I can't lose track of who's said what and how many times he's asked. It started when I turned twenty-one and became legally independent, and it's gotten to the point where—"

"Good fer you." Sans shifted around and thumped his elbow on the table, startling her silent. "Let's get back t'savin' the world." The skeleton flipped the nearest book to a random page. "Here, this looks crucial to the survival of my entire race. It's...what the hell's an 'oral contraceptive'?"

Frisk stayed quiet for so long that he glanced up. To his surprise, her face was bright red. "I don't think that's high on a monster's list of priorities," she said. "I keep forgetting to ask you, how's your magic feeling? I lowered that barrier when we got back, so you should start regenerating soon. You still can't teleport directly in or out of this room, though."

Sans had no idea what kind of medicine would embarrass her that badly, and made a mental note to look the word up later. "I'm startin' t'get some back, yeah. I should be able to help ya cut down on walkin' time starting tomorrow, if y'like."

"I thank you for the offer, but if makes me as sick as last time, I'd rather walk the whole castle in three-inch heels." Frisk came up beside him and flicked the pages a few times. "We need to take inventory of my supplies. I don't spend much time decanting anymore as a rule, so I'm running out of basics and don't have many specialized items on hand."

The conversation stayed along safe lines from that point on. Dinner came and went; the High Priestess offered to take him for a walk, but Sans had already had his fill of non-Frisk humans for the day and elected instead to soak in the tub for nearly an hour. He actually fell asleep for a bit, until Frisk had to bang on the door and threaten to come in and drag him out. His indifference to the idea – pointing out that skeletons didn't have any private parts – only got him in further trouble.

Later, Sans was sitting on the bed when Frisk emerged from her dressing room in her purple robe, towelling her hair dry. "Bedtime," she announced.

The skeleton yawned. "Sounds good. Want me t'check under your bed for monsters? Or assassins, or whatever?"

Frisk paused mid-rub. "Would you?" she mumbled, cheeks pink.

It was so cute that Sans had to cover himself with a big, emphatic gesture that carried him to his feet. "What'm I bein' paid for if I'm not makin' you feel safe, huh? Here." He strode out and made a big production of flinging open the office doors, revealing the empty couch and a messy desk. "Ta-da! Nothin' but the specter of bureaucracy."

"If only you could save me from that, too. Still, thank you," Frisk said, grinning now. "And I forgot to thank you for getting me out of midnight services for a few weeks. I can sleep in for the first time in months."

"Glad t'service ya." Sans saluted and turned on his heel with a grinding sound. "Night, kiddo." He went back to his room, shut off the light, and lay down, bemused at himself for calling her that. "If she's a kid, you're a real sicko," he mumbled out loud, and fell asleep wondering again what a contraceptive was.

~

They both rose late for another quiet day of study, interrupted only by meals and a trip outside before dinner. There was a lovely little terrace near the kitchens that few people used at this time of year, as there was nowhere to get out of the wind; luckily, Sans couldn't feel the cold, and was happy to stride around without worrying about banging his head on any doorways or low ceilings. The High Priestess' rooms were luxurious enough to have adequate space for him, but as weirdly satisfying as it was to play with plants and cauldrons, and as much as he enjoyed the view across the table, he had to admit it was good to stretch his legbones.

They didn't talk much outside, as Sans went to the railing to survey the outbuildings and orchards down below, while Frisk found a bench that had been in full sun most of the day. She'd brought a black cloak with red lining and a deep hood, and stayed huddled in it while the boss monster wandered around the terrace, each shooing away the occasional enterprising pigeon. When Sans came over to her with a question about the castle's layout, he noticed how tightly she'd pulled the cloak around herself and instead asked, "You cold?"

Frisk nodded, trying not to shiver.

"Well, why'n'tcha say so?" The skeleton extended his hand. "C'mon. Time to eat."

The priestess readily accepted, letting him tug her to her feet. "This is convenient," she said, still holding his hand. "The kitchens are right eep!"

In hindsight, Sans had to admit he probably should have warned her before he took them straight back to her rooms, materializing outside the double doors. "Sorry," he said to her, and not to the guard huddled in the corner. "You all right?"

Frisk tried to pull away from him and nearly fell over. "I am not all right!" She dusted herself off with one hand, the other clutching his sleeve. "You almost gave me and this poor man a heart attack, and now someone has to bring our food all the way up here!"

"Oh. Right. Sorry 'bout that." Sans shrugged at the guard, then opened the doors, letting her march into the room unaided. "But hey, yer already doin' better than last time, right?"

Frisk did not deign to answer, electing to stand in front of the fireplace to warm herself. "Right," the skeleton said. "I'll be over here."

Nothing. Her dignified, offended expression was adorable, but it reminded him that he had an unanswered question, and now would be a good time to look it up. There were a few varieties of dictionary on the bookshelves, and he selected the pharmacological one, deftly turning the pages to the middle of C.

In additional hindsight, Sans would tell himself sternly that once he found the definition he was looking for, he could probably have been more tactful than "Oh, fer crap's sake. Do humans really hafta screw that much?"

And he knew he should have anticipated the volume of her reaction, which was none for a moment, then a "What?!" that drilled straight through his skull and bounced around in it for a couple of minutes straight.

While he was standing there, eyes blank as he tried to recover his equilibrium, the beet-red priestess snatched the dictionary out of his phalanges and thrust it back onto the shelf. "All right," she said. "All right. All. Right. First things first: can I assume that you now understand what several of those recipes are intended for?"

"I un'erstand you damn near killed me," Sans complained, patting the side of his skull to be sure it was intact.

"I'm not very sorry, Sans," Frisk retorted. "Putting aside your terminology, I try not to judge monsters for having different physiologies than we do, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't judge humans. Given the way we're made and the number of children we can have in a lifetime, it's best to be able to space them out without having to give up interpersonal relations entirely."

The skeleton knew what he'd read, and what she was saying, but on some level, he was sure he'd misunderstood something. "You mean sex? Like, doin' it just for fun? Monsters know humans go at it a lot more than we do, but we always figured you just want a lot of kids."

He'd meant it honestly, which must have been why Frisk didn't kill him on the spot. She took a deep breath and said as calmly as possible, "I infer that this is not the case among monsters?"

"Hell, no. We don't toss magic around like that," he said, highly offended.

Frisk pulled the hood of her cloak back up and turned away, but he'd seen her trying not to laugh. "I don't know how much monsters are taught about human reproduction, but I can assure you that there's no magic involved, as such. It's an entirely physical process." She cleared her throat. "Monsters have to invest their magic before you can have children?"

"Well, yeah. If two monsters want a kid, it takes a lot of time and effort, 'specially if they're really different shapes or sizes They have to wanna be parents pretty bad for it to work."

"Interesting. Humans don't have to intend anything. If anything, we have to intend not to. If certain actions are taken, pregnancy can result unless specifically prevented. It's as simple as that."

Sans mulled it over. When viewed through that lens, the little he knew about human behavior – especially men's – made a lot more sense. It was bizarre and at least somewhat gross, but it made sense.

The priestess was still facing the fireplace. "Is it the same for boss monsters?" she asked, failing to sound casual.

The skeleton didn't know how to answer that, and the silence was getting awkward when they heard a knock on the door. "Heyyy, din-din," he said brightly, rushing to open it and scaring the life out of the poor woman pushing the trolley.

By unspoken accord, they didn't revisit the subject. He was pretty sure she was still thinking about it, though, and when they parted for the night, he had to admit that it was kind of funny—each of them obviously wanted to ask the other more stuff, but wasn't going to be the one to bring it back up. Maybe tomorrow, he told himself, not believing a word of it.

The barrier against external dreams was still up in the bedroom, but that night, he had one on his own. It was pretty simple: he dreamed he was a priest of some sort, but mostly a farmer? Anyway, he lived with his wife and several kids who kept going in and out the door and getting older each time they came back. Every time they did, he also got a little older, but his wife didn't; the more wrinkly he got, the more she laughed at him, pinching his face and offering to make him oatmeal or prune juice. He didn't mind, though. It was impossible to be mad when she was so sweet about it.

[amazingmsme]

Avenger Hazing

AN: All I’m gonna say is that with how long it took me to finally finish it, I better see some notes.

It was hard being an Avenger. It was even harder being the youngest one on the team. What with the stress of school and a normal social life topped with being a superhero, along with the secret fear that he was somehow letting everyone down, Peter had a lot on his plate. He strived to fit in both at school, and with the other Avengers. Most of the time they went out of their way to help him feel accepted, but there were definitely moments when he knew they still saw him as a child. They were never maliciously mean or anything like that, but they would tease him more than the older team members.

"This is an adult beverage. Why don't you get some juice?"

"Better not stay out too late, it's a school night."

"I'm gonna run to McDonald's. Peter, you want me to get you a happy meal?"

"Whoa, slow down on the sweets, don't want you bouncing off the walls. Literally."

"Hey, if it isn't the itsy bitsy spider!"

Peter always laughed it off. He knew they were just joking, but sometimes the comments would grate on his nerves. 

"Maybe we shouldn't watch that one. We don't want to give the kid nightmares." Peter didn't say how he had already seen the movie more times than he could count.

"In kindergarten? Wasn't that like five years ago for you?" He bit his tongue, wanting to tell Clint that he was well into his junior year of high school.

"A girl? Is she cute? You got a crush on her squirt?" Peter tried to turn his head away to hide his blush. "Look how red he is! He totally has a crush!" He just sunk deeper into the couch, burying his face behind his phone.

"Your hands are so much smaller compared to mine!" Thor too? He really couldn't catch a break.

~~~~

He went down to the lab to work with Tony. He just needed to get stuff off his mind, and experimenting always helped him relax.

"You okay bud?" Tony glanced at him from over the top of his safety glasses.

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe because that's the fifthteenth new web fluid formula you made in the 45 minutes you've been down here."

Peter sighed; he should've known he wouldn't be able to hide it from Tony. "It's just that the other Avengers have been..."

"Hazing you?"

"Yeah, that."

"I noticed. You want me to make them stop? Cause one lecture and I'll make sure they never do it again."

"No, no I can deal with it. But sometimes it feels like they only see me as a little kid, and that they forgot I fought toe to toe with them."

"Trust me, they know. They just want to forget they got their asses handed to them by a 14 year old."

"Yeheah, I guess so. I still wish they wouldn't tease me so much though."

"Have you ever teased them back?"

Peter was taken aback by the question. "What? N-no, they're the Avengers!"

"So are you."

"You know what I mean. What am I supposed to say when it's someone like Ms. Romanoff or Captain Rogers?"

"Just say the same thing you'd say if it were me."

"M-Mr. Stark?"

"Look, all I'm saying is, they're probably doing it to get a rise out of you. They want some sort of reaction. But if you're not comfortable enough yet, I completely understand. I mean hell, it took you three months to sit like a normal person when you were in my company, and another four for you to relax completely."

Peter laughed at that, and Tony smiled.

"I'm serious though. If it ever gets to be too much, you just let me know."

"Thanks Mr. Stark."

~~~~

Tony made sure to keep a closer eye on the others after that. If they picked on him more than usual or if Peter seemed too uncomfortable, he'd step in.

"Alright that's enough."

"Leave the kid be."

"Go pick on someone else."

"Stop bullying my kid."

It made Peter happy to know Tony cared for him so much. It was a relief, and having him there helped him to relax and be more like himself. He started to get more comfortable with the team, even when Tony wasn't there. They still teased him, but after his talk with Tony he didn't take their verbal jabs too personally. And some of them were pretty funny, if he was being honest.

He was sitting on the couch, finally having finished his homework. He watched as various people passed through the living room, greeting him as they walked by. He leaned back into the cushions and closed his eyes, letting all the stress from school melt away.

"Must be pretty boring in here all by yourself." Peter opened his eyes, craning his neck backwards to see Bucky walk over to the couch, trailed by Sam.

"Not really, I just finished my homework so I was taking a break."

"Man I don't miss that," Sam said, taking a seat next to him.

"Thankfully I only have one more year before I go to college." Bucky nodded thoughtfully, "Nice." He turned the tv on and started flipping through the channels, looking for something to catch his eye. He finally gave up his search, settling with Go! Diego! Go! An odd choice, to say the least. He snickered to himself, and Peter glanced at him, then at the screen, and all became clear.

"Oh ha ha, very funny. Find something else please." Bucky's eyes glinted with mischief, "Oh but I chose this just for you. I thought you'd like it."

"I used to. When I was five," he made sure to put emphasis on his words to get his point across, but Bucky just grinned.

"Wasn't that long ago then."

Peter rolled his eyes, looking down at his phone to avoid eye contact and mumbled, "At least I had colored tv when I was born."

Sam, who had been eating pretzels, started coughing, startling Peter. He patted his back, making sure he wouldn't choke, completely oblivious to the shocked expression on Bucky's face.

When he was finished almost choking, Sam said, "Ohoho mahan, that has got to be the funniest damn thing I've heard come out of your mouth."

Peter's mouth twitched into a smile, "Really? 'Cause it wasn't even that funny," he said modestly.

"It's just 'cause it was aimed at me," Bucky said, sending a playful glare at the two of them.

"It was funny Barnes, and you know it," Sam said, pointing at him with a huge grin on his face. He slung an arm around Peter's shoulder, bringing him in closer. "I'm honestly surprised you had the guts to say anything."

"W-well I wasn't really thinking. If I was I probably wouldn't have said it."

"Well I'm glad you did, cause I needed a good laugh, even if it almost killed me." Peter smiled shyly, ducking his head down. He caught a glimpse of Bucky sticking his tongue out at him, but when he shot his head up, he acted as though he were innocent.

"And you try to say that I'm childish."

"Another jab! You feeling bold today Peter?"

He shrugged, "Maybe I'm just finally starting to feel comfortable around you guys."

"And that means insulting me?"

"It means I'll retaliate if you try and tease me, like you've all been doing."

"So what you're saying is, you won't put up with our bullshit without giving us some of your own?" Sam clarified, and Peter nodded. "It's about damn time. All I kept hearing about Spider-Man was how quick and witty he was, and I was starting to think maybe they were talking about someone else."

Peter laughed, although it was a slightly nervous one. "I was worried that I'd make you guys hate me or offend you if I said anything. I guess I'm not afraid of that anymore." It was true. His walls had broken down, and he knew he didn't have to be scared of making the others hate him over something he said.

The smiles both men wore were genuine, "I'm glad Peter."

~~~~

He was a lot more bold after that. The Avengers were pleasantly surprised when he made a sly pass at Strange one morning while they were eating breakfast, and now if they tried to give him a hard time he'd shoot right back with a sassy remark of his own. The change wasn't unwelcomed.

Peter liked hanging out with the Avengers. He wasn't as nervous around them as he once was, and he found their reactions when he smarted off quite entertaining. He could see why they liked doing it to him, but he was more than happy when they eased up on their teasing. All except for Sam and Bucky of course. Those two were relentless.

He found himself on the couch in the living room yet again when two familiar faces plopped down next to him. He looked up from his phone, greeting them, "Hey guys." He was in a very heated discussion about how the giant fossilized dinosaur that was recently found was totally real and not just "fake news" and had to throw the cold hard evidence in MJ's face. He sent her the screen shot from National Geographic's website, only for her to reply, "Snopes, or it's fake." His face scrunched up in annoyance. He knew she was doing this to mess with him, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Sam looked him up and down, taking in his seemingly sour demeanor, "Man, what's eating you? You look upset," he voiced his concerns.

Peter simply huffed out a breath, "My friend's just being annoying," he said and then grumbled to himself, "I'll show you the Snopes... Ha just like I fucking said!" The two men on the couch shared a confused glance, thinking it best to leave him be. Teenagers... They can be so weird sometimes. Peter sent the screenshot to her and smugly waited for her response.

"Fake."

He wanted to scream in frustration, but thought that if he did then she'd somehow know and get her cruel satisfaction. So instead he just took a deep breath and stared at the tv, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Damn what did they say? You look like you have a frog in your mouth!" Bucky exclaimed. That sure as hell got his attention. "What?"

"Whenever you stare into space like that you make this face that looks like you're hiding a frog in your mouth," Bucky teased with a wide grin, nudging his shoulder. Peter brushed him off with a half hearted glare, "That's just my face, and it doesn't look like that!" he cried out defensively. Sam couldn't help but laugh as he nodded, "It totally does!"

Peter rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore them, "Well then me and my frog are just gonna sit in silence," he said defiantly, turning away from them and directing all of his attention to the tv. Tony was right, they just wanted a reaction from him, just like MJ. So he wouldn't give it to them.

"Aw c'mon man, you know we're just teasing."

"..." Ah the silent treatment. Truly the pettiest of tactics. Well if Peter was going to be childish, then two could play that game. Or rather, three.

"Rrrrribbit," Bucky croaked from low in his throat. And he might've been imagining it, but he swore he saw a hint of a smile. Sam seemed to catch on and joined, "Rrribbit, ribbit!" Peter's smile was noticeable by now, but he was doing his best to hide it. Bucky gasped, "Is that a smile I see! You better watch out, you don't want Kermit to escape!"

"Shut up hobo!" he said, referring to his lazy clothes and shaggy appearance. Bucky's jaw dropped open, "You did not just say that to me! You're gonna pay!" He sensed the oncoming attack and was able to roll over the back of the couch successfully, but Bucky was quick on his tail and easily caught him a second later.

"You think you can get away with calling me a hobo?" he queried. When he shrugged Bucky hoisted him over his shoulder making him let out a small shriek. Peter looked to Sam, "Mr. Wilson hehelp!" Damnit, the kid always turned on his innocent charm when he wanted one of the team members on his side, but it wouldn't work this time.

"Sure, I'll help. What do you need me to do Buck?" Said man tossed the boy onto the couch and grabbed his wrists before he could make another run for it.

"Sit on his legs, we don't want him running off again, do we?" Sam complied and chuckled to himself, "This gives a whole new meaning to the term babysitting."

"Just because you guys are old doesn't mean I'm a baby-waitno! Mr. Barnes stoooop!" his snarky demeanor quickly melted away into panic when he saw Bucky leaning over him, a long string of spit dangling over his face before he slurped it back into his mouth with a laugh. "You're so gross."

"Watch it," he warned with a poke, noticing the slight flinch and giggle that left his lips. A sadistic grin found its way onto his face as he met eyes with Sam. "Now what was it you said about us being old?" he asked, letting his hands rest right above his underarms. Peter had a feeling he knew where this was going and squirmed, already giggling in anticipation.

"Mr. Barnes dohohohon't!"

He chose to act ignorant, as though he had no clue as to what he was about to put him through, but he knew all too well. "I'm not doing anything, why are you laughing?" he teased with a knowing grin.

"Behecause I know what you're gohonna dohoho."

Bucky tilted his head to the side quizzically, a few strands of hair falling in his face. "And what am I gonna do to you?"

Let me get one thing straight: Peter Parker is a smart kid. But this isn't one of his brightest moments. He answered quickly and without thinking, because if he had been thinking, he surely wouldn't have fallen for this trap so easily. "Tickle me." As soon as those words left his lips, Peter realized his mistake. His eyes grew wide as Bucky flashed him a wide, feral smile.

"Well since you asked so nicely."

"No wait I didn't mean ihihit!" He rushed to amend his mistake, but Bucky was already skittering his fingers in his armpits. Peter screeched and pulled at his arms, but his grasp around his wrists held strong. He could tell he was struggling to keep him pinned though.

"Damn how strong are you?" Bucky asked, switching hands to hold him down. Peter managed to worm an arm free and on reflex, shot his hand forward, flicking his wrist to web him.

Only he wasn't wearing his webshooters. He froze in fear as both men stared at him in shock. Sam had a hand covering his mouth and Bucky's gaping mouth slowly morphed into an evil grin. Peter gulped and tried to scoot back, but Sam sitting on his legs prevented him from moving too far.

"Did you seriously just try to web me?" The amusement in Bucky's voice was evident. Peter chuckled nervously, wrapping his arms around his torso for protection.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" he tried.

"Not a chance."

"Worth a shot," Peter shrugged. His nervous smile grew the closer Bucky got.

"Any last words?" Sam asked.

"Go easy on me?" That made them laugh and Bucky shook his head fondly.

"We'll see." He hovered his hands above Peter's stomach, wiggling his fingers as he inched closer. He squirmed as giggles bubbled out of his throat, much to their amusement. "Dude I'm not even touching you," he teased.

"Ihihi can stihil feel ihihit!" He tried to curl in on himself to stop the ghostly tingles, but to no avail.

"Wait so you can feel it? With your Peter tingle?" Bucky asked, continuing to hover over his stomach. Peter covered his face in embarrassment, "Dohohon't call it thahat!" he whined.

"I think I've built up enough anticipation, what d'you think Sam?" he asked for his opinion.

"I have to agree. I mean, he did call us old, and we're not getting any younger," he said, reaching forward and squeezing the kid's knee. Peter yelped out a laugh and kicked out his leg, but Sam kept him pinned as he kept squeezing, skittering a few fingers on the back of his knee. Peter threw a hand over his mouth to try and muffle the embarrassing stream of giggles, but to no avail. Bucky finally let his hands descend and they skittered all over his stomach. Peter let out a squeal, his eyes squeezing shut and nose crinkling adorably.

Bucky chuckled to himself as he walked his fingers up his ribs. "The itsy bitsy spider, crawled up the water spout," he sang the nursery rhyme slowly, each finger worming between his ribs until he reached the top. "Down came the rain and washed the spider out!" He raked his hands down his ribcage, making his shriek and thrash around on the couch. "Out came the sun and dried up all the rain," he formed his hand into a claw and vibrates it into his stomach.

Sam grinned and said the last line along with Bucky, squeezing his thighs as the other walked his fingers back up his ribs, "And the itsy bitsy spider crawled up the spout again!"

Peter's laughter kicked up a notch as he tried uselessly to bat at the offending hands. "Plehehease, you've hahad your fuhuhun!"

Sam snorted, "Pft, yeah right, we're only just getting started."

"Yeah, you can't just stop eating after only one chip, you gotta keep going!"

Sam's brows drew together in confusion. "Seriously, that's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey I'm a little busy at the moment, so watch yourself or else you're next," he threatened playfully. Sam conceded with a chuckle.

"Okay you win."  

Meanwhile, Peter was still laughing his head off. He had given up on trying to free himself and succumbed to the torture they dished out. He threw his head back, laughing loud and free.

"You wanna take back what you said about us being old?" Bucky bargained and blinked in surprise when Peter shook his head.

"You're lihihike a huhundred years ohohold!" Bucky narrowed his eyes with a malicious smile stretching across his face.

"Wrong answer."

"Amazing. I've never seen someone already in a casket pull out a shovel and dig even deeper," Sam said in slight awe. He adjusted himself, grabbing the teen's feet in a headlock. He started kicking out and squirmed under their hold, protests flying from his mouth.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry! But I don't lie and I already knew you'd punish me more for lying I had no choice!" he tried to explain himself. His words dissipated into hiccupy laughter as Sam raked his blunt nails down the soles.

While he was thrown into hysterics, Bucky sniffed the air, "You smell that Sam? That's bullshit." Sam couldn't help but chuckle. Peter tossed his head back and forth.

"No it's not I swear!"

Bucky simply shrugged his shoulders, an unsympathetic smirk on his face, "Sure, but I don't really care." He drilled his thumbs into his hips, making him buck like a wild bull. He latched onto Bucky's wrists, not really trying to push them away, instead just needing something to ground himself.

The frantic laughter had caught the attention of  one super soldier, and he followed the echoing noise through the expansive halls. Finally landing upon the scene, he smiled to himself and leaned against the doorframe, watching as his best friends took the poor kid apart.

Sam reached up and scribbled on the backside of his knee, drawing forth a loud and embarrassing snort. Peter's hand flew up to cover his mouth while the men laughed along with him. "We're gonna have to call you Spider-Ham if you keep snorting like that!" Sam teased.

Peter blushed a deep red, "Shuhuhut uhuhup!" He squealed when Bucky's hands started to squeeze and knead his sides before letting out deep belly laughter.

"Alright I think the kid's had enough," Steve spoke up, knowing from personal experience just how cruel they could be.

Bucky stuck his lip out in a mock pout, "Aw but look at him! I could keep this up for hours!"

Peter looked at Steve, pleading, "Mihihister Rohogers hehelp!" He was his last hope.

Steve rolled his eyes, "Let him breathe Buck."

Sam came to a stop, letting go of his legs. Bucky wasn't so quick to listen.

"Let me just do one last thing. You know what it is," he sent a wink towards his best friend. Steve shook his head with pity and chuckled. He gave Peter a sympathetic yet amused look, "Good luck."

Peter paused while taking in some much needed breaths, his brows furrowing in confusion. "W-why do I need-"

He was interrupted when Bucky leaned down and blew a loud raspberry on his stomach. Peter's eyes crinkled shut as he curled in on himself, shoving at Bucky's head to try and push him off. He took in another deep breath of air before blowing, shaking his head back and forth.

"FUHUHUCK!" Peter screamed out. Bucky's facial hair made it ten thousand times worse, and raspberries where just totally unfair. Bucky pulled away a shocked expression plastered on his face. Peter flopped back on the couch, panting.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when Spider-Man said fuck," Sam said.

"And in front of Captain America no less!" Steve joined in. Peter raised his hand weakly, batting the air.

"Sorry sir."

Steve couldn't help but laugh, "You're alright kid. I know it was justified." He leaned against the back of the couch with one hand as Bucky helped Peter into a sitting position.

"You okay?" he asked. Peter nodded.

"Yeheah, my stomach just hurts from laughing. Not a bad pain though."

Sam reached over to ruffle his hair, "I'm glad to hear that."

"You guys suck though," he said, biting back a grin.

Bucky raised his brows, "Oho, bold words for someone as ticklish as you."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't attack me again. Not now anyway," he said with a shrug, having already recovered. Enhanced senses and strength, and all that.

Sam leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms and studying him. "And what makes you so sure?"

"Well, uh, cause, he won't let you," he said, pointing at Steve. Said man looked down at him quizzically, but a certain fondness clear on his face. Bucky just tilted his head back and let out a hearty laugh.

"Oh please he can't do anything, he's almost as bad as you," he said. To prove his point he reached up behind him and squeezed his hip. Steve jerked away, barking out a laugh. He was able to catch his wrist before he could do it again.

"Don't," he warned, voice commanding. Bucky held his hands up in surrender.

Steve sighed heavily, but with a smile on his face. He looked down at Peter, who still grinned from ear to ear. "I think they're gonna be the death of both of us kid." Sam and Bucky only chimed in their agreements. His smile only grew, "Good thing they're ticklish too."

"What no way!" Peter said in excitement.

"What?!"

"You're dead Rogers!"

Steve was already giggling as he ran across the room. "Make sure to go for Sam's ribs, and Bucky's thighs make him scream like a girl!" he shouted from down the corridor. Peter couldn't be happier. He finally felt like one of the team, having endured all their teasing and hazing, he was accepted. That didn't exclude him from things like this, instead only making him feel more welcomed. And like he said, whatever they dish out, he can serve right back.