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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Note

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

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septicstories · 3 years

Text

When Will You Realize (UNEDITED)

A/N: @you-said-yes is a bloody freaking genius and came up with this idea for the multiverse twins, and I'm in love. So, I'm gonna write this (Peter-centric, of course) and attempt to do it justice! I just hope I don't goof this masterpiece up too much.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: cursing (duh, it's me), family drama, Charles + Logan + Hank ignore Wanda and Pietro because they need Peter, very brief mentioning of a needle, sad Peter + Wanda + Pietro, Pietro having the nickname "Piet" (pronounced as the first bit of his name, not diet with a "p"), no beta readers or edits (sorry)

Word Count: 3.3k (3,380)

"Peter! The cops are here! ... again."

When Wanda had yelled that down to him, Peter only found himself sighing. What store manager is accusing him of shoplifting this time? Did that punk-ass kid behind the counter at 7/11 rat him out again?

But Peter didn't do anything about it.

Nope.

Well... actually... maybe a quick pick-pocket wouldn't hurt, right? Just see who the hell these cops are, maybe spook them when he says their names. Unless he already knows them, then that'd be weird.

Peter let go of the paddle he was using, calmly walking upstairs as time just slowed around him, nearly to a halt. He was greeted with three new faces, all three of the men. None of them looked like cops.

He went into the pocket of the man with hella sideburns, opening up his wallet, only to see a folded-up piece of paper instead of a badge.

After looking over the paper for a moment, Peter found himself grinning. This was a rental agreement for a car. These guys were from out of town.

Peter folded the paper, replacing it into the man's wallet before slipping it back into his pocket. And with new confidence, he went back to his basement and continued to play his solo game of ping-pong as he waited for the men to come down.

He heard one of the stairs creak, a sure sign that it wasn't one of his siblings. A very particular spot on one of the stairs made the most obnoxious creaking noise, and it was the only way he was able to identify anyone new.

"What do you guys want?"

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Peter just kept going from one end of the table to another, waiting for his brother to come down so the two could go even faster.

"I didn't do anything!"

Of course, that was what he was waiting for before the cops showed up. But now, he was just waiting for them to all get down here. He was just showing off at this point.

Peter dropped his paddle once again, slowly stretching across his couch. Well, slow for him. To the three men, it probably looked like it happened in the blink of an eye.

"I've been here all day."

A shit-eating grin spread across his face as the three men turned to him, one staring at him as though he were an animal at the zoo. The other two seemed exasperated.

"Just... relax, Peter. We're not cops--"

"'Course you're not cops, if you were cops, you wouldn't be driving a rental car." Peter interrupted.

"You're not cops?"

Peter didn't even hear Pietro come down the stairs.

"How'd you know we got a rental car?" the man with long hair and sunglasses asked.

"I checked your registration while you were walking through the door." Peter shrugged.

"Peter!"

Wanda must've recently come down as well, as she lightly smacked Peter's shoulder, like a scolding mother rather than an older sister.

"I also had some time to kill, so I went through your rental agreements and saw you're from out of town." Peter's shit-eating grin just spread across his face, before it dropped into a look of confusion. "Are you FBI?"

Peter shot up, grabbing the nearest wallet, which came from the guy with sunglasses. Nothing that a cop would carry. But there was a business card.

"Nope, you're not cops," he said in a near-mumble, reading the card.

"Peter!"

"Hey, what's with this Gifted Youngsters place?" Peter asked, ignoring his sister's scolding tone as he dropped the wallet, heading over to one of his many mini-fridges.

Peter grabbed two popsicles out of the fridge, slightly melted but still solid, handing one to his brother before beginning to munch on one.

"When I knew him, he wasn't so... young."

That was all he caught out of the conversation the three men had.

"Young?" Peter asked with his mouth full. "You're just old!"

"Peter, don't be rude," Pietro said, opening his popsicle and beginning to eat it at a monstrous pace.

"Both of you, stop!" Wanda said, her eyes beginning to shimmer a bright red color.

"So you're not afraid to show your powers." one of the men said.

"Powers, what powers?" Wanda squeaked out, her eyes flaring red before returning to their usual color.

"You see something strange here?" Pietro asked, leaning against Wanda with an empty popsicle stick in his hand.

"Nothing anybody would believe if you told them?" Peter asked, a massive smirk on his face.

When he saw the tired look on one of the men's faces, he did a little internal victory dance, patting himself on the back for that.

With the cockiest fucking look on his face, Peter went over to the pong machine in his room, turning it on.

"So who are you, what do you want?"

"We need your help, Peter."

"With what?" Wanda and Pietro asked in unison, glaring daggers into the three men.

"To break into a highly secure facility. And to get someone out."

"A prison break?" Wanda asked, her eyes widening.

Peter just chuckled, smirking. "That's illegal you know."

"Well, only if you get caught."

"Okay, no. Peter's not going." Wanda said, her fists clenched by her sides.

Exactly as she said that, Peter asked "What's in it for me?"

"Peter, no, this is an awful--" "You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon."

Peter's fingers froze on the joystick, pausing. The Pentagon? The fucking Pentagon? Wait, were these guys actually cops? Like, undercover cops who are actually good at their jobs?

"How do I know I can trust you?" Peter asked, arching an eyebrow, slowly turning from the machine.

"Because we're just like you."

Peter stiffened, eyes bouncing between each of the three men. They all look normal, albeit a bit like hobos, but still normal. They didn't have any of the physical bits to a mutation, the lucky sons of bitches.

"Show him."

An absolutely disgusting squelching noise filled the room as the man with sideburns had bone breaking through his clenched fists, into a trio of boney claws, gnarly and super gross.

Peter's breath hitched as he watched, before gulping and nodding. "It's cool but it's disgusting."

"So? Are you coming with us?"

"No, he's not," Wanda spoke up again. "Listen, I don't know who the hell you are and why you're asking for Peter to help you break into the Pentagon, nor do I want to know who you're breaking out of the Pentagon, but my baby brother won't be joining you."

Peter rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Who are you to make decisions for me? I'm fucking 17, Wanda! I'm not gonna be staying in this damn house my whole life!"

Peter stood up, going over to his closet, and grabbing a backpack.

"Look, I know you guys are gonna drive me there and there's probably a plan. Fill me in on our way there. I need to bring food so I don't pass out on you guys."

"Peter, ple--" "We'll meet you outside. Thank you, Peter." the man with the sunglasses said as the three left the basement.

Pietro and Wanda shared a glance before heading up the stairs. "Wait for a second!"

Peter shook his head, grabbing the nearest box of food and stuffing it into his bag.

I'm not a baby. I'm 17. I can't stay here for the rest of my life because of humanity. I can't do that to myself. I'd rather be slaughtered for my mutation than sit the hell still and never leave this fucking house.

Pietro and Wanda couldn't keep him here. He loved them both to death, and he'd absolutely come to visit. But he couldn't stay. Even just a taste of adventure like this would be enough to sate him for the day. Maybe a few.

Besides, it wasn't like he was leaving for good. He was gonna come back. Probably. Y'know, assuming he doesn't get caught and shot to death.

Peter gulped.

That won't happen... right?

"Nah, I'll be fine," Peter mumbled to himself, grabbing another box of snacks and opting to grab a hair tie as well. The clock on his wall was ticking slower and slower the deeper into thought he got.

They wouldn't let him get hurt, right? He'd be a-okay.

"Slow down, you crazy child."

Peter stiffened for a moment.

That creaky stair was a blessing and a curse.

Reluctantly, he looked at Wanda, giving her a glare as time sped up. Pietro was right behind her.

"You're so ambitious for a juvenile."

Peter rolled his eyes again.

With this shit.

"But then, if you're so smart, tell me, why are you still so afraid?" Peter asked sarcastically, a scowl finding its way onto his face.

Wanda and Pietro give each other another look before they come closer to Peter. Peter went over to another side of his room, grabbing another box of food, this one already opened.

"Where's the fire? What's the hurry about?" Pietro asked, letting out a nervous laugh as he joked. The tension in the room was making everybody uncomfortable.

They get a bit closer, and Peter forcefully shoved what was bound to be a squished Twinkie into his backpack.

"You better cool it off before you burn it out. You got so much to do."

Pietro and Peter's eyes met, making Peter's resolve crack. Just a little bit. Not much. But a little bit.

Wanda's hand landing on his shoulder wasn't much help.

"And only so many hours of the day."

Wanda's voice was always soft and soothing. The Sokovian lullabies she'd hum to him when he was a child would sometimes play through his head when he was stressed out, and he'd even find himself mumbling the lyrics.

But not right now. Now wasn't the time for her calming voice. No, he had shit to do.

Peter brushed Wanda's hand off of him, storming away from them before speaking, "But you know when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old."

His tone was sharp, like a blade cutting open old sutures.

Pietro's brow furrowed, with a frown making its way onto his face, his own tone becoming less playful.

"You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through."

The scowl on Peter's face only deepened as he turned away from his siblings. He didn't need to hear all of this. Not right now.

Wanda, with that voice that made Peter want to cry, spoke up again. "When will you realize..."

Peter stiffened, a lump growing in his throat. They couldn't do this to him. They couldn't persuade him to stay. They couldn't do that.

"Vienna waits for you." Pietro and Wanda spoke together, Pietro's tone had softened a tad.

When the twins saw Peter's face when he turned around, their hearts broke a little.

Their younger brother had tears in his eyes, his mouth twitching as he took in one shaky breath after another. His mouth opened, only to clamp shut, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes tight.

Peter sped over to his dresser, digging through one of his drawers, in search of his goggles.

"Slow down," Wanda began, her voice making him stop for a single second. "You're doing fine."

Pietro piped up again. "You can't be everything you want to be before your time."

Peter clicked his tongue, fresh tears beginning to roll down his face. They had the motherfucking audacity to pull that shit on him.

"Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight," Peter said sarcastically, turning around and spreading his arms out as he gave both of his siblings a teary-eyed glare.

To them, it probably looked like the glare of a child. Pathetic. Weak. Fragile.

Did he care?

"Tonight," he mumbled again.

Nope, not one bit.

Wanda took a step forward as Peter turned back around, still looking for those damn goggles.

"Too bad, but it's the life you lead," she said calmly.

She was going to start losing composure soon, Peter was sure of it. She had to crack soon. He wasn't going to let his dam burst anymore until he knows he's not the only one who wants to cry.

"You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need."

Peter winced as though he just got a needle stabbed into his arm. A painful pinch that'd be sore for a bit, but he'd forget about it soon.

Wanda sent Pietro a glare, which made the other speedster back down a bit. But only a bit.

"Though you can see when you're wrong, you know you can't always see when you're right." Wanda and Pietro spoke at the same time, making Peter shiver.

It bugged him the hell out whenever they did that. Creepy as shit.

Wanda made it even creepier by repeating herself. "You're right."

She came closer as Pietro spoke. "You've got your passion."

"You've got your pride," Wanda said softly, taking Peter's shaky hands into her calm grip.

They need to stop. They needed to stop doing all that shit to him. They were trying to get him to stay. They shouldn't be doing that.

Peter yanked his hand out of Wanda's grip, his other hand grabbing his goggles before stuffing them in his pockets.

"But don't you know only fools are satisfied?" Peter said bitterly, staring between the twins.

He gulped as he watched Pietro glare at him, his arm going around Wanda as he did so.

"Dream on," Pietro said dully as Peter turned his back on the twins.

"But don't imagine they'll all come true." Wanda and Pietro did their freaky twin thing again, speaking at the same time.

Peter zipped up his backpack, just trying not to cry. He just needed to get past them, and into that car, and then it would be smooth sailing from there.

"When will you realize?" Wanda asked as Peter slung the backpack over his shoulder.

"Vienna waits for you." Pietro finished with a soft murmur.

Peter didn't even need to turn around for Pietro and Wanda to know what Peter's face looked like.

Hot tears burned down his face as he shoved past his older siblings, Pietro purposefully knocking Peter's shoulder with his own. A little thing they'd do when they knew they had a rough day ahead of them. A sign. A quick "good luck. I love you."

A sob got stuck in Peter's throat as he went up the stairs, hitting that creaky stair on the way up.

Wanda, with a defeated sigh, fell back onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. There wasn't any way to stop Peter. Once his mind was set on something, he was going to do it if it were the last thing he'd do.

She just worried that this would be the last thing he'd do.

Before Wanda could even speak, Pietro's hand rested on her back as he sat beside her.

"He'll be okay, Wanda."

Peter was about to leave, fingers grazing the doorknob before he paused.

He turned to the small stand by their front door, grabbing Wanda's locket from when she and Pietro were children. Carefully, he opened it, revealing pictures of Wanda and Pietro as children.

Peter's fingers clumsily fiddled with the locket before placing it around his neck before taking in a deep breath and wiping the tears from his face.

The front door of the Maximoff household swung open as Peter left the house, his hair falling in front of his face as he left, walking at a pace that seemed a tad bit too fast to be human.

The guy with sideburns was sitting in the driver's seat of the car while the two other men stood outside the car.

"Ready?" the man with the sunglasses asked.

Peter found much more interest in the markings on his shoes, staring down at his mixed shoelaces before giving a weak response.

"Yeah."

Slow down, you crazy child. Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while.

Peter got into the back seat of the car, slamming the door shut as the other two men piled into the car. He swears he heard Pietro and Wanda in his head.

It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two

His backpack got tucked by his feet on the floor of the car, buckling his seat belt before releasing a sigh. He wanted their voices out of his head. They needed to get out of his head, or else he may actually get fucking shot because he wasn't focused on the mission.

The Maximoff house was now quiet. The only noises came from the basement.

"When will you realize?" Pietro asked, his voice barely carrying over a whisper.

"Vienna waits for you." Wanda finished softly.

The two were leaning against each other on the couch that Peter called his bed, looking around the messy room.

A picture sat on his desk, the three of them all together and smiling. Peter was only eight when they took that picture. His two front teeth were missing from his massive grin, curly brown hair framing his face. He just looked... happy.

Peter, at that moment, felt far from that young kid he used to be. His arms crossed over his chest, doing his best to seem nonchalant. But he was stressed as hell.

In Sokovian, Peter mumbled to himself "And you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old."

Peter could live with dying young. As morbid as it may be, he's accepted his mortality. He knew people wanted him dead because he didn't share the same species name as others.

His eyes looked out the window while the man in the sunglasses and the man with the sideburns spoke in the front seat. Hopefully not to Peter, because he wasn't paying attention.

Unfortunately, instead of seeing an empty doorstep, Pietro and Wanda were standing on the porch.

Pietro's hand was still on Wanda's back, and Peter could see the tear streaks on Wanda's face from within the car.

"You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through," the two whispered, Pietro beginning to choke up "Why don't you realize?"

"Hey, kid, you alright?"

Peter turned to look at the guy with glasses who sat with him in the back seat, nodding with pursed lips.

"I'm good, man. What's the plan?"

Wanda and Pietro still stood on the doorstep, watching Peter look away from them. Wanda bit her lip, looking down at the ground as fat tears streamed down her face.

"Vienna waits for you." she and Pietro were so choked up, their speech was barely audible. "When will you realize?"

Peter listened in on the plan, nodding, but once they stopped saying his name, he looked back out the window. His sister was in tears as Pietro wiped at his face, making Peter's eyes well up a bit too.

With all he had in him, Peter mustered up a small, sad smile on his face. Luckily enough for him, his siblings looked up right then.

Peter gave a small wave, getting teary smiles and waves from his siblings.

The car's engine roared to life, and the group began to pull away from the Maximoff house. Peter turned in his seat a tad, watching as his siblings grew smaller and smaller in the window as the car pulled away from the Maximoff house.

At the same time, the twins watched as the car pulled away from their house, Wanda's body shuddering as she kept in unshed tears.

Pietro let out a heavy sigh as Wanda's head hit his shoulder.

"He'll be okay, Wanda. He always comes out of these things okay."

"He's breaking someone out of the pentagon, Piet. I don't want him to... y'know."

"Yeah... I know."

Peter turned back around in his seat, letting out a heavy sigh of his own.

"They'll be okay." the man with glasses murmured beside Peter.

His only response was a nod and a yawn. "I'm gonna rest up real quick, okay? Save up energy, and stuff."

Because I'm absolutely fucking drained.

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dreadnought-dear-captain · 4 years

Text

Happy (Slightly Belated) Birthday, Baghdad Waltz!

*CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BAGHDAD WALTZ UP TO CHAPTER 37*

I know these are stressful times right now, but I wanted to post a little something for BW’s third birthday on 3/13/2020 (and I’m a little late because I had a lot to say). THREE!! I cannot believe it. Truly, I cannot, but here we are. I know there are still a few stragglers hanging around from when I first started posting this story (extra hearts to you all), so many people who have come and gone and sometimes return again, and so many new people joining this crazy journey all the time.

You are all so great, and you make it possible for me to keep writing this. I probably would have quit a long time ago without your support, because this shit has been quite hard to sustain sometimes. I know I am very bad at keeping up with comments and things, and I’m so sorry. I am terrible with social media, too. People IRL will say the same thing about me. I am super old school and still talk on the phone with my friends. I KNOW.

(Heyyyy Bayside High)

I’ve prepared a couple of things for BW’s birthday. First, a few statistics I thought I’d whip up. Then a few questions and answers about BW, both from myself and from my beloved beta, @pitchforkcentral86. And I’m still trucking away diligently at chapter 38! I just have a few scenes to go.

-- BW Statistics --

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

Words to date: 526,011

Chapters to date: 37

Shortest chapter: 3,821 words (Prologue)

Longest chapter: 31,395 words (Chapter 33)

Number of words per chapter: 12,530 (median), 14,257 (average) (note: the median is probably a better measure, since this is such an abnormal distribution - see below for the changes in chapter length over time)

Estimated total work to date: 2,890-3,120 hours (approx 18-20 hours/week). This includes writing, rewriting, editing, research, conversations with beta, outlining, and a small portion of the brainstorming. This is a conservative estimate and only includes a fraction of the ambient thinking I do about this story. And God, I do so much processing when I sleep! Perhaps I will be a BW “expert” -- estimated at around 10,000 hours I guess? -- by the time I am done with the story and all my revisions hahahahaaaaaa D:

Money spent to date (estimated): $600-700. This includes books on various subject matter and writing craft, video access to therapy education resources, and other educational materials. This does not include the incalculable sum in lost productivity from thinking about BW when I’m supposed to be doing other things!

Most of you probably don’t know this, but @pitchforkcentral86 is not just a beta reader. She is my partner in crime with BW. She knows my characters as well as I do, sometimes better. She helps me troubleshoot scenes, she tells me when my writing sucks, when my I’m not being true to my characters, when I’m not being real enough (sometimes when I’m being TOO real). She gives me porn inspiration and listens to me bitch and calls my bullshit and makes this story what it is. I really mean it - this story would not be nearly as good without her, and you can see how much better it gets once she starts to get involved around chapter 17.

So I decided I would answer some silly little questions about BW. Just my own personal opinions about stuff! And asked @pitchforkcentral86 to contribute as well. See below.

What are my favorite scenes in BW and why?

In no particular order:

The 9/11 memory (Chapter 26): When Steve is in therapy with Hope remembering when Bucky returns from Ground Zero. This was one of the first times I experimented with writing in a sort of stream-of-consciousness way (though certainly not the last!). I have done several tweaks to it since the original version, texturing it more. It’s so rich in detail, visceral detail, little details about their relationship, pieces of Bucky’s past, clues about his alcoholism, the way he handles stress, his difficulties letting Steve in, the love Steve has for him, Bucky’s need to be loved and cared for and his aversion for it, it’s so, so rich. Gah. I love it. (GUH and @buckydunpun’s ART - just murder me. Thanks.)

The Thor “breakup” scene (Chapter 28): This is the moment I think that many people realized Bucky is not a reliable narrator. Maybe they suspected it before, but this is when it’s very obviously apparent. His entire interpretation of his relationship with Thor is thrown into question. He built a rich fantasy about what they were, holding hands in the grass, all this bullshit, and he could actually say they were boyfriends, which makes complete sense because there were never any stakes. It was always surface. There was never any intimacy except as veteran/soldier friends who had sex, which is about as deep as Bucky can go anyway without getting utterly terrified.

This is in such stark contrast to Steve, where there is actual intimacy, ongoing demand for more intimacy, and this relationship feels VERY real to Bucky, and it’s very frightening to him. And that’s why he runs from the term “boyfriend” with Steve. It’s all so real. It’s easy to engage with a fake boyfriend. But still, he didn’t deliberately realize he was doing this, so it was devastating to find out the truth of his own self-deception. And to hear that he’s not the kind of guy you settle with, he’s the guy you fuck… wow. But how can you really hate Thor? (I’m sure some of you can but…) He’s a nice guy. Even Bucky knows it. So he’s run from something good and real (Steve) to something good but false (Thor) and then he gets rejected from both. It’s horrible and so self-defeating and so quintessentially Bucky. I love it.

A Close Second (Spent Brass fic): This whole side fic came together like a glorious dream. I love everything about it. It’s such a wonderful look into their relationship, into their dynamics, into their individual personalities, their idiosyncrasies, so much push-pull between them. Whispers of things that have happened to Bucky in the past, a lack of understanding from Steve, a desire to know, so much affection. Some good sex. I love this SB. But I love all the Spent Brass fics. They are so close to my heart.

Honorable mention: Bucky’s masturbation scene during his bender (Chapter 32). I had an absolute BLAST writing this. Thanks to @pitchforkcentral86 for proposing that Bucky’s core sexual/romantic desire is just to be kissed. Dayum. It all unfolded from there.

Who is the character I think about the most? Bucky. I think because he’s got the most complex history and the most complicated psychology. He’s actually fairly rule-bound in terms of how he operates, but he’s got a lot of back story that explains how he became the way he is, and I spend a lot of time considering what happened to him and how he developed his self-image, his coping strategies, and his ideas about others and the world. I think a lot about his relationship with his parents. I think a LOT about bby Jamie. It’s not because Steve is not important or any less complex. But Bucky’s childhood experiences have shaped him in very specific ways, and I want to make sure that I represent them very thoughtfully.

Who is my favorite character to write? Bucky. His voice and thought processes come to me more easily than Steve’s. Perhaps in part because of my personal penchant for the word “fuck.” I love writing his perspective, his preferences, his interpretations of situations. I love imagining the way he imagines the world.

Who is my favorite supporting character? Winnie. I know she’s a very polarizing character, but I have so much affection for her. I think she’s a badass. She joined the military as a female officer back in the 1970s, which is incredible and rough. She kept her maiden name. This is a Southern conservative woman, an Air Force brat, raised by very conservative Southern people in a very conservative Pentecostal church, but she has always had an irrepressible rebellious, feminist badass streak in her even before she knew what feminism was. She might not even define herself as a feminist now. She has always done the best she can under very difficult circumstances, and she loves her kids, even though she sometimes sucks quite badly at mothering them. I love her for her imperfections.

Favorite topic to research this year: I’ve been really enjoying researching emotionally focused couples therapy, which was developed by Sue Johnson, EdD. I’ve been watching therapy videos of couples going through this and having a wonderful time imaging Bucky and Steve going through something similar with Claire. I don’t think Claire is the strictest adherent to EFT, but I think she’s informed by it. It’s tough, because I’m very used to cognitive behavioral type therapies, so this one has been different to think about writing. I’ve also been really getting into reading about childhood sexual abuse and its effects on boys and men. It’s greatly helped my conceptualization of Bucky and Bucky and Steve’s relationship. I mean, it’s a grim topic, but there have been some fascinating threads in terms of understanding one’s self perception of sexual orientation, etc. and thinking about how Bucky would consider and contextualize his experiences.

Am I more of a Steve or a Bucky? Hmm. I don’t strongly relate to either, but I think if I had to choose, I’m a bit more of a Steve. I’m pretty expressive of my affection and positive emotions, and I’ll complain about daily life things enough. However, when it comes to major life events that really bother me, I tend to err on the side of not processing them and turning my feelings into headaches and other physical afflictions. In other words, I’m a suppressor of major emotions and events. It’s FINE. I’m FINE. Nothing to see here. But I am definitely not as tidy as Steve, nor as smart, and definitely not as buff or hot. So that’s where most of our similarities end lol. I do eat a lot of tofu though.

Who would I want to hang out with for a day? I initially thought Rikki, but like @pitchforkcentral86, think she’s actually too cool and smart for me, and I would probably just make an ass out of myself. I think probably Elektra. I know, this is a left field answer, but it’s one day! To do whatever with anyone! I want to choose someone who’s going to make it worth my while. So many of the characters are either too busy, too rigid, too anxious, too conventional, etc. I would want to run around NYC with Elektra for the day and have drinks with her and Matt afterwards at some weird-ass underground bar. My more infield answer would probably be Hank. I want him to tell me gay stories about gay things. I want to see his apartment. I want to drink coffee with him. I want him to tell me about what the AIDS crisis was like for him. I want to hear about his relationship with Howard. I want all the shit that Bucky takes for granted every day. He can be my fairy godmother any day.

Who would I want to be friends with? Probably Sharon. She’s one of the most reliable, loyal, and level-headed people in this world. She’s smart, she’s flexible, she rolls with things pretty well but also doesn’t take a ton of bullshit. She also has a good sense of humor about things. I feel like she’s someone I could call with my Zack Morris phone and talk with for hours about all sorts of things. We could also split a bottle of wine and talk some real shit.

Wait - Why not Bucky or Steve? I don’t think these two are entirely likable, to be honest. They’re good humans, they mean well, but I don’t think they’re very well equipped in the friendship department. I care about them very deeply (I hope that’s clear), but I don’t know if I’d want to be particularly close to either of them at this point in their lives. They’re both lacking in the skill and perspective to be good friends and partners, which is a major reason why they are in therapy.

Who would I want to be my therapist - Hope, Bruce, Scott, or Claire? Claire. Given how much I suck at talking about the things that are really deeply bothering me, I think I would need an emotionally focused therapist who is going to dig in there and really get me to focus on all the emotions I’m trying to shove away. I would probably try to over-intellectualize everything and deflect, and I don’t think she’d let me get away with that.

Okay, on to @pitchforkcentral86~~~~~

What are my favorite scenes in BW and why?

Oh boy. Well, this is a difficult question to answer since it feels like every chapter becomes a new favorite simply due to sheer amount of time spent planning and composing and revising and whining and complaining. And also my memory sucks. BUT, with that said, I think I would like to mention three scenes specifically:

1) Bucky on deployment, cleaning a Humvee (Chapter 7), Steve standing nearby. This scene conveyed the tension of deployment and between Steve and Bucky so well, and, perhaps more importantly, built my respect towards Bucky as a competent, caring NCO (to that effect, the small scene in which we see Bucky the NCO on film telling all the little grunts to eat so they can become big and strong is another favorite).

2) Beautiful Boy (Spent Brass), Steve’s memory from childhood with Sarah at the park, naming animals. I really don’t have a good reason other than that scene was so clear to me in my mind and was especially tender.

3) Steve sleeping with Sharon in DC (Chapter 33). Honestly, it was just a great scene, and we had a really good time planning it out.

I can include many more, and certainly the ones Dread mentioned are favorites too, but I have to stop or this will just be a squeee fest.

Who is my favorite supporting character?

Hank. His particular brand of honesty is extremely appealing to me, and I think Bucky secretly, or not so secretly, loves him too. And also Quill, just for shits and giggles because he is reliably there as an ice breaker, that lovable Mountain-Dew-drinking goof.

Favorite topic to research this year:

Well, I don’t do the research myself, but I spend many, many m-a-n-y hours listening to and conversing with Dread about all the things he’s delved into for this fic. So I guess maybe I’ll turn this question into favorite topic to discuss/conceptualize. In that respect, Bucky’s and Jack’s relationship has been by far the most intriguing, grueling, fascinating and difficult aspect of this fic to conceptualize – those were some of the best talks in the process. [Dreadnought edit: You will see much more of this in future chapters, folks!] And for a fun answer, planning out sex scenes is hilarious.

Am I more of a Steve or Bucky?

Bucky, no doubt. Sometimes it feels like Dread has climbed into my brain, found a horrible nugget of truth about me, and then put it into words coming out of Bucky’s mouth. Those moments are both wonderful and terrible in equal measure.

Who would I want to hang out with for a day?

For a whole day? Can it maybe be a coffee or, like, a quick lunch? I honestly don’t know… Neither Steve nor Bucky will be very good company, I think. Not in their current versions, anyways. Rikki is hella cool but she intimidates me, so, not her. Um.. Huh. Nope, don’t have an answer.

Who would I want to be friends with?

Probably Hank, again. He has a really good attitude. I’m starting to feel like not picking Steve/Bucky is selfish because it’s like “oh, they have too many issues and it won’t be fun”. But it’s also true! Friendship is reciprocal, and I really don’t think that’s where they’re at. (But I would have totally been dying to be friends with Steve in his bookshop days).

Who would I want to be my therapist - Hope, Bruce, Scott, or Claire?

Hope or Claire. Both are no-nonsense competent therapists. But I think maybe Hope will be too put-together for me. So, yeah, probably Claire.

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

Okay, everyone. Back to the grind. I’ll update as soon as I can! Remember to wash your hands with the fastidiousness of BW Steve Rogers. (And also remember to sing the “happy birthday fucking everyone” song, which should actually be sung TWICE or resentfully enough that it lasts 20 seconds.)

#baghdad waltz #happy birthday #fucking everyone #I love you

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vespiiqueen · 4 years

Note

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last 10 people who reblogged something from you (if you want !! 💛💖)

Wow I rambled a lot with this but i can't add cuts bc I'm on mobile rn DHSISHSJ sorry :"))))

1. Ik Ik "haha how cringe are you" of me to say, but honestly? Homestuck. Homestuck helped me in a time of need and when i so desperately wanted something to latch onto. Finally, I caved into my friends telling me to read it-- and it's been a blast!! The epilogues / hs^2 make me feel kinda sad though, because so much of what I loved about the original was yeeted through the nine circles of hell and into the trash. I love Y/ffany's (I call her Yippi tho) design, the art is really pretty at times, Harry is a major dork, I LIVE for seeing Vrissy bc honestly?? Her design is 10/10, very early 2000s emo style and I also live for that. Tavros is cute and a nerd and I think that's swell!

But in terms of story and how any of this happens, it makes me sad to see it happen. If Vriska could return as Vrissy, why not OTHER beta trolls? Where's my Eridan fish man, writers?? Give me the boy or perish by my fury.

2. Also super "haha how cringe are you" but,,, murder cats (Warriors), esp the early 2005-2015 amvs and stuff. I remember watching Flightfootwarrior's "I Will Not Bow" Scourge amv for HOurs and having no clue what was happening, but all these edgy kitties were KITTIES! It's introduced me to a lot of music I still listen to to this very day (Imagine Dragons, Young/the entirety of Hollywood Undead, Breaking Benjamin). And yknow what?? This new arc is absolute chaos, but in the good way.

I'm an "OG Fan". I prefer the first arc, The Prophecies Begin, to almost any of the other arcs. I just could never get into the other arcs-- not to say I haven't read them, I HAVE and the Fire Scene was probably one of my favorite moments beside grumpy Jaypaw, god complex Lionblaze, and fear the gods Hollypaw. I thought the build-up for it was SUPER satisfying. Gray Wing is my baby and I fully embellish in the Gray Wing is Silverpelt theory.

This new arc is definitely something new for the universe. While I didn't read aVoS (but I may do that if i can find the files for it), and so I don't know the major events of it other than what I've seen M.A.P.'s (Multi-Animator Projects, for clarification,,, bc unfortunately that term is also something disgusting). There's fucking cat possession and all the Clans questioning their belief system, yo. Shit be on fire.

Also the Imposter is 100% Ashfur, that's canon now, yeah??? Also im sorry but fuck Root x Bristle that's the dumbest shit I have ever seen. Give me Root x Shadow or face the wrath of my dragon plushies.

RiverClan is my Clan and my gov assigned warrior name is Fireshell 🌟🌟

3. As much as I hate the author,,,,, Harry Potter. It's been a major part of my life for as long as I can remember. I can never really remember why, but I've always just loved it- the movies, the books, the extra little merch that would pop up in my local Walmart. Of course my favorite character is Draco Malfoy. I could go on and on and ON about how I think his character arc was SHIT and JKR didn't have the balls to make him a confident gay man that was always implied through the text (at least, my lesbian ass thought it was implied but i may just be projecting, idk). I could ramble about Draco for HOURS and what I think his character SHOULD have been and how his parents are horrible (more specifically, Lucius bc Narcissa [?] Actually showed a few good moments), and a child should never have to pay for their parents sins.

Oh noo, Draco's a villain because he's a victim of major abuse and peer pressure? He's a villain because a literal child can be horrible and they'll always always always stay as a horrible little fiend?? Fuck that. He's a child.

Unlike manchild grease pan Snape, who was a racist piece of shit and shouldn't have became a fucking school teacher but it's okay because he was ~~~in love~~~. No, fuck you, he was a creep. James Potter n Co may have been a little posh bitch to you, Snape, but that's no fucking excuse to continue to bluntly be a little cunt all the way into adulthood. You're an adult who flatly changed your PATRONUS to imitate Lily's. You have no excuse. And Harry went and named his child after you LIKE JESUS CHRIST, DID RON'S SISTER NOT HAVE A SAY IN THE NAMES TOO?????

I also fully adore the idea that Muggles can run into Hogwarts and their patronus can 100% be a made up, fantasy creature. Imagine you learn the patronus spell and suddenly fucking ARCEUS comes from your wand. Imagine learning the spell and CHTULU (i did not spell that right but im so tired) comes from your wand-- an entire ass fucking Lovecraftian, Eldrith horror is just the embodiment of you. What if it was a fucking Homestuck character like Vriska? How fucking METAL would that be?? Hskajssowjjsjs get on it fandom.

4. Hee hee very evident by my url but Pokemon is another major thing of mine. While vespiquen isn't my favorite (that title goes to Hydreigon), it is definitely up there!

I've ALWAYS enjoyed the idea of Pokemon. You run around, training up these fight monsters and collecting them. I remember playing my sister's Ruby version on her flip-up Gameboy. I couldn't even read but I ran around catching god only knows how many of the same pokemon wherever she was. Apparently, I had fought for hours in the same area and leveled her Blaziken up to lvl 50 something and left her lvl 30s in the dust LMAO.

I got my first game when it was Pearl/Diamond. It was Pearl, and it still holds a very fond place in my heart. I could barely read, I could barely write-- I had named my Turtwig something along the lines of "MmorpHy" and my player boy "ZbsibJ". Yes I remember the names slightly. I really didn't get far-- I barely got to the first gym but I was just so happy to play it.

I eventually lost the game, as a 5 year old would do, but I can still vividly remember what was happening when the game arrived. I had just came back from the dentist and was quite tired from fighting the dentist bc I was super scared. Mom suddenly handed me a box and said it was mine-- my overseas (at that time) dad had bought me Pearl and my sister Diamond, because I lost my shit about it when he visited one time.

Well, tdlr, I played it for about five minutes while struggling to stay awake against the loopy gas they made me take. I fell asleep listening to Twinleaf Town's soundtrack. Every time I play a rom of Pearl and I get to where the player's house fades in and I hear that first tune of the song, I get a huge smile on my face and cry-- as.. Weird as it sounds.

A few years later, I had gotten Pokemon Black bc I liked Reshiram on the cover. Now, this one I could actually READ when playing, but I don't remember a lot of things about it. I probably lost this one too, as a 8/9 year old would do. I DO remember, I chose Snivy and my sister chose Tepig (hrmm there's a theme here of grass/fire goin on......) and vibing to the music. I was so amazed by the sprites moving, I just kept getting into encounters to see the sprites move (oh boy, no one tell younger 7-9 y/o me about Zelda......oh wait....)

Playing Pokemon NOW, as a 17 year old """gifted""" chick, I stil have very fond memories. I recently beat Pokemon Black again and GOD the OTS SLAPS. I fucking adore the soundtrack-- the track that plays when you battle a trainer, the low health dings being turned into a legit song that also slaps, the battle! gym leader themes-- and oh my gOd, the legendary theme is amazing? It really tells you just how glorious these pokemon are supposed to be. It's not intimidating like Groudon/Kyroge/Rayquaza's themes. It's not action packed like Palkia/Dialga's is, it's not filled with tension like Giratina/Arceus's is-- but it radiates the GLORY that the beasts portray. And I live for that. (Also, Kyurem's version is my favorite because it glitches in the beginning and that's rly cool)

P/D/P and BW/BW2's stories, imo, are some of the greatest ones. Yeahhh, US/USUM's is cool and I haven't played XY nor SwSh-- but the ones I can find memorable are PDP and BW/BW2. I love N. I love Barry. They're my sons. Ghetsis is fucking terrifying, Cyrus needs a hug. Giratina scared the piss out of me when I was younger, which was NOT helped by Giratina and The Sky Warrior.

I think my favorite movies are the gen 4 ones. The Rise of Darkrai having a tear-jerking theme for such a mysterious pokemon (i still tear up when i hear Ocarion), Giratina being spiteful is a mood and Shaymin was cute, Arceus being angry is also a mood. Yeah, Pokemon 4Ever made me cry my eyes out over Celebi, Mewtwo Returns made me again cry because Mewtwo accepting who he is, I remember how vastly different the BW movies are-

I just. I have a lot of memories with the series, even if Gamefreak and Nintendo kinda do the series dirty a lot (your top-grossing thing and you made That monstrosity for the Switch? How dare you.). It's comforting to be stressed and pull up my roms for the games and to play them. Mystery Dungeon is incredibly fun to play, Pokemon Ranger is really fun with the concept (Shadows of Almia continues to kick my ass to this very day and FUCK the Jungle Relic, I hate the Water Challenge fucking gyarados bullshit). I remember the pokemon I got for MD (I got Time, my sis got Darkness) was Mudkip, if that is any help.

I love my little fictional pixel monsters.

5. Yup, someone told tiny 7-9 y/o me about console games. The legend of Zelda. My first Zelda game was Twilight Princess on the Wii and BOY did I play the fucking SHIT out of that game.

Honestly, looking back and looking at playthroughs now-- I still love TP. Twilight Princess is still one of my top favorite Zelda games-- yes, even after playing OoT, Majora's Mask, Wind Waker, Skyward Sword, the anniversary four swords edition for the DS where you could play by yourself (Nintendo pls bring that back, I don't have friends to play it with ;-;), Phantom Hourglass- ect.

Something about Twilight Princess grabbed me by the head and yeeted me into the world. I can remember playing it for hours with little to no breaks. I, a tiny 9 y/o, had gotten the hang of the controllers and managed to get past the tutorial quite easily. And then, I was launched into the game and I wasn't stopping for NOTHING. Mom and Dad would have to force me to save and get off to go and eat dinner. THAT sucked.

I had done everything on my own up until the first temple, the forest temple. Not where/when you saved the dumb kid, but when you were saving the spirit's light. Theeeeeeennn I got stuck on the fucking Forest Temple for deadass six months straight. I'd play for hours, running around in circles, unable to figure out where to go, and because I didn't grasp the temple's purpose of being that way- I'd get angry and get off. It wasn't until dad looked up a walkthrough and talked me through what I was supposed to do that I learned how to get through temples.

I had gotten to the last little fight with Ganondorf before the Wii broke and i could no longer play. Despite the Wii being broke and we got rid of it, I was ADAMANT on keeping the game, and I kept that game for YEARS. It was an original copy out of a sealed box, and I eventually lost it when I left it accidentally at my now ex-friend's house.

She had a Wii and I went "hey I have a Wii game!" And I brought my Zelda over. Worst fucking choice of my goddamn life. Mom called me to come home and said I couldn't sleep over like the original plan was, and that was it. My ex-friend stashed my Zelda and I never saw it again. And, even if I wanted to-- I couldn't get it back, which makes me upset. We had a BAD falling out. She likely doesn't even remember it's there, or sold it to the local game junkie kid who buys ALL games.

But I still love the game. Midna was amazing, and I loved how snarky she was and she has a very cute design! The game's OST is fucking phenomenal. Midna's Desperate Hour makes me cry bc goddamn it really sells how serious that situation is. I love Hyrule Field's theme in this game. I love the Twilight Realm's song. Zant was fucking hilariously scary. Ganondorf's design in this game scared the piss out of me when I was younger.

Midna and this game's Link and Zelda are def my favorites. Yeah yeah, Sheik is cool and all I Guess but dhsushwishs Midna holds the special place in my heart. She was totally my gay awakening BUT

For other game antagonists, I adore Ghirahim-- let's go you funky little queer-coded villain. Skull Kid was great, I love the entire dynamic of him. Prankster lost soul stumbles upon Majora's Mask and the mask makes him act out due to powers-- which, I actually took very heavy inspiration from for one of my OCs. The moon falling to Hyrule was a fucking terrifying looming threat.

But the game series holds a place, and I've yet to be able to play BoTW-- although, I'm fairly certain I'll like it. The playthroughs I've watched of it are all fairly decent! I just. Gotta save up enough money to buy it haha.

Dang guess I gotta go watch a Twilight Princess playthrough again.

Honorable Mentions:

Avatar: the Last Airbender, specifically Book 3

my OCs definitely make me happy, they're my children and I'd ramble A LOT longer if given the chance WHEEZE

My friends, but I didn't add them here bc it's more fictional stuff, I presume

Baking. I love to bake cupcakes.

Painting is fun. I'm an artist and goddammit im going to use painting as an excuse to make a mess.

Fire. I rly like fire, down to a pyromaniac level. However, i hate the fires that happened to my home town, the Great Smokey Fires of 2016-- THAT pissed me off. How dare you burn mountain landscapes to the ground. Perish.

History. I'm a history nerd.

I'm also a science nerd.

But fuck math, I cannot comprehend math to save my life.

For some reason, I rly like learning how the human body works??? like did you know, organs are actually sticky when touched by a bare hand?? Did you?? How fucking cool is that.

Bakugan. I love Bakugan, esp the DS game. I love my Darkus Leonidas. Give me back the online world, you peasants-- I want my Darkus Dragonoid. (Also fuck all my friends from when I was in kindergarten- my theory that Alice was Masquerade was somewhat correct.)

#admin ace #admin ace speaks #communistvriska #inbox tag #homestuck #warrior cats #harry potter #pokemon #legend of zelda

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

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Priceless: 7/8

I know it's been MONTHS since an update on this fic, and I know my apologies for that sound like a broken record. But ya'll, this chapter was agonizing to write. I would stare at the screen then maybe write two or three paragraphs at a time. I knew what I wanted to happen and where I wanted to end up, but I just had major writer's block. Thankfully, I ended up really liking this chapter despite it all! This chapter also ends with my absolute favorite scene from the movie and the part that had me seriously considering writing this AU. I hope ya'll like my version of it! Massive thanks to @xhookswenchx for being my beta on this. She has been holding my hand through this - my first foray into writing in first person.

Summary: Desperate men often find themselves in places they never thought they would go, but for Killian Jones it would finally force him to be the hero his daughter always thought he could be. The job was simple: drive the truck, don’t open the back, don’t ask questions. But Killian Jones has never followed instructions very well …

An AU of the movie Priceless starring Joel Smallbone of For King and Country.

Rating: M for themes

Trigger warnings: This story is about human trafficking so there are discussions of rape and non-con, some of it involving minors. None of it is portrayed as positive nor is it graphically described. If you have any specific questions or concerns before reading, feel free to message me.

THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING, I SWEAR!!!!

Also on Ao3 and part of my movie au series Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom-Com: Second Edition. There is also a First Edition.

Tagging (my tag list for my movie au series is massive, so if anyone would like to be removed, let me know! But a heads up that I will be doing a third edition of the series after Priceless with some lighter fare!): @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @delirious-latenight-laughs @resident-of-storybrooke @vvbooklady1256 @teamhook @tiganasummertree @nikkiemms @hollyethecurious @distant-rose @ultraluckycatnd @bethacaciakay @jennjenn615 @branlovestowrite @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @stahlop @thislassishooked @scientificapricot @spartanguard @shireness-says @kday426 @shipsxahoy @shady-swan-jones @cat-sophia @artistic-writer @thejacketandthehook @dassala @allofdafandoms-blog @flslp87 @pocket-anon @snidgetsafan @onceuponaprincessworld @courtorderedcake

Since it’s been so long since an update, here’s a chapter summary: After David sends the shady cop and Gold's men packing, he and the Brothers Jones follow the white van from The Red Lantern Motel. They are now staking out the house where the girls are being held, but David and Liam may not be able to hold Killian back for long from a daring rescue.

Across the street, I watched Emma climb down out of the unmarked white van, Neal close at her side. The scumbag grabbed her by the elbow as he led her towards the brick ranch house with black out curtains on all the windows. My fingers dug into the seat in front of me as my jaw clenched.

“She’s right there,” I hissed to my brother and David.

“Get down,” David snapped in response.

“We can’t just sit here!”

“Killian, they know what you look like,” Liam snapped, “so hide before I punch you.”

“We’re outmanned,” David added, glancing at me in the rearview mirror as I laid myself out across the bench seat, “and I’m sure they have guns.”

“So what was the point of following them?”

“We know where the girls are being kept,” David explained as he continued driving down a side street just past the house. “We’ll come back in a few hours when everyone is sleeping.”

“You can get up now,” Liam told me as we turned out of the modest suburban neighborhood. We saw a young mom jogging past with her baby in a stroller. How could people like her not know what was going on in her own neighborhood?

“We’ll also need to be armed,” I said, “just in case.”

Liam looked at me incredulously, but David nodded grimly. “He’s right. We’ll break into the house and try and get the girls out quietly. But just in case, we have to be prepared.”

“Don’t we have to do this legally?” Liam argued.

“All we have to do is get them out of there,” I snapped. “I don’t care how.”

*****************************************************

The house was completely dark inside as we tiptoed through the kitchen door. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, but the heavy curtains throughout the house made it feel like the middle of the night.

“I can’t see a thing,” Liam whispered, “anybody got a flashlight app?”

“We can’t risk it,” I whispered back.

“Let’s split up,” David instructed, “we can search the house better that way. I’ll go down this hallway, Killian you go check the living area, and Liam you search the garage.”

I inched my way around the half wall separating the kitchen from the living area. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw what one would find in any seventies-style ranch: threadbare, avocado furniture in the center of the room with an old tube television shoved against the opposite wall. A lopsided coffee table, gouged and stained with rings, held the crumpled remains of junk food. I thought of Anna and her love of hamburgers and chocolate milkshakes.

“Nothing in the garage.”

I tensed before I recognized Liam’s voice over my shoulder, then I deflated and lowered the gun I grasped in my hand. I waited a few heartbeats, and then David’s voice drifted from the hallway.

“You guys gotta see this.”

Liam and I rushed down the hall, skidding to a stop in the doorway of the last bedroom. Disappointment surged through me as I realized that every room was empty. The room David was standing in had no furniture; just a dirty sheet draped across one wall. Another was covered in dozens of Polaroid photographs. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach as I made my way over to them. Every single one was a picture of a woman scantily clad in lingerie. Some weren’t women at all, but mere girls dressed to look older than they were. Heavy makeup was a thin veneer over their haunted faces. The blood drained from my face when I recognized one of them. My hand shook as I pulled a picture of Anna from the wall. Her chin was tilted down, and shame and fear swam clearly in her eyes. I clenched my jaw as I crumpled the photo in my fist.

“I don’t understand. They should be here,” I choked out.

David shook his head. “I’m sorry, Killian. It looks like they moved them.”

“They might know we’ve been watching them!” Liam exclaimed. “This is exactly why we should have gotten help!”

“From who?” I snapped in irritation. “The dirty cops?”

I let out a feral yell as I began to rip the pictures from the wall. Some of these girls were only a few years older than my Alice. They could be someone’s daughter or little sister. I thought of Emma, trading her body to keep her sisters safe, and I fell to my knees as hopelessness washed over me.

“Killian,” David said gently, resting his hand on my shoulder. I shook him off, but he continued anyway. “This isn’t over yet. These pictures are probably on the internet. I know that’s not easy to contemplate, but we can use that in our favor to find them.”

I nodded, and though I felt completely numb, I stood to my feet. I was following David to the door when I realized Liam wasn’t at my side. I turned around to find him facing the wall where only a handful of photos had escaped my rage. With a shaking hand, he reached out and took one, then turned slowly to face me. Tears were rolling down his face.

“Liam?”

“You’re right, brother,” he said, “one way or another, we end this.”

Then he took the picture in his hands and ripped it in half. As it fluttered to the floor, he followed David back out into the hall. I couldn’t resist; I reached down and retrieved the picture. As I lined up the two halves, Elsa’s face looked back at me. She was more pale than I remembered, and I had a feeling it wasn’t the makeup. Even worse, her eyes were dull. I understood Liam’s reaction now. I crushed the picture as I had done with Anna’s, and ground both under my feet as I left the room.

*****************************************************

It wasn’t safe for us to stay at the motel anymore, so David and Mary Margaret were graciously letting us stay with them at a cabin they owned up in the hills. Since David had stood up to the dirty sheriff and Gold’s men, he felt it was best he and his wife lay low as well. They left their super Leroy in charge and we all prepared to lay low and plan our next move.

Only I couldn’t do it.

Liam didn’t like it, but David seemed to understand when I asked him for the name of his favorite bar. With promises that I’d take a cab to the Nolan’s place later, I walked the lonely streets until I found the bar David said was owned by a friend of his. The Nautilus was practically empty; after all, it wasn’t even five yet. I wondered if the barkeep who filled my tumbler with rum was David’s friend, but I wasn’t in the mood for a chat.

Getting drunk wasn’t my motivation. I’d been down that road before, and God knew if I was going to help Emma I needed to be clear headed. So I nursed the same glass until the sun dipped low in the sky, mindlessly staring at ESPN on the small television in the corner.

By that time, patrons began to trickle in. I asked for another glass of rum, the first having done little more than send a pleasant warmth through my veins. Not enough to cease my worry or smooth the lines from my brow. The barkeep eyed me as he set the second glass down in front of me, clearly expecting me to spill what had me brooding. Something about his eyes caused a flicker of hope to flame to life within my heart. I took a sip of my rum, then pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I pulled up the selfie Emma had accidentally taken. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Have you seen this woman anywhere?” I asked.

The barkeep shook his head in sympathy. “I’m sorry, no. Is she missing?”

I swallowed thickly before I could answer. “In a way.”

He gestured around the bar. “You could ask around. Most of these folks are regulars, so if I haven’t seen your . . . “

He looked at me pointedly to fill in the blank, and I hesitated for a beat.

“My . . . um, sister.”

We looked nothing alike, but it still seemed the safest answer. If I said girlfriend (I won’t lie, that was the first answer that popped in my head), this guy might assume I had nefarious reasons for looking for her. If I said I didn’t know her, I would sound like a creeper. Sister seemed the safest answer.

“Well, as I was saying, if I haven’t seen her, they probably haven’t either. But, we do get out of towners from time to time.” He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

I nodded and looked again at Emma’s picture: her hair blowing in the wind, the half smile on her face, her gaze looking beyond the camera. At me. Would she ever look at me that way again?

“I hope you find her.”

My gaze never left my phone as I sighed in response, “I hope so, too.”

I did as he had suggested and made my way around the bar asking if anyone had seen Emma. Everyone shook their heads no, yet their gazes were filled with sympathy. Defeated, I collapsed back onto the stool where I had begun and rubbed my thumb absently against the condensation on my glass. Rum seemed pointless. Numb, I sat there until my drink turned lukewarm. Not that I cared.

A group of new patrons - college guys on break from the looks of it - came noisily into the bar. A few headed to the pool table in the corner while a couple of others headed to the bar.

“A round of beers,” one of them asked the barkeep.

I decided to take one last shot and leaned over toward the guys. “Have you seen this woman?” I asked them.

One of them whistled. “I wish. She your girlfriend, man?”

His buddy leaned over to see. “Dang, that girl is fine.”

I gritted my teeth. “Have you seen her?”

The second guy tilted his head. “I mean . . . naw, man, can’t be her. That girl was top tier.”

I shook my head. “Wait - what are you talking about?”

The first guy started laughing and punched his friend in the shoulder. “This idiot tried to go into one of those spas over on West Sunset.”

The blood drained from my face and my whole body tensed. “A spa?”

“Yeah, he wanted to get a night with this gorgeous blonde, but let’s just say she was a little over his budget.”

“Shut up, Chris.”

“I’m not the one who couldn’t afford a decent prostitute, Chad.”

Chris and Chad. Of course they had names like that. They’re mothers had probably bought the Polo shirts they were wearing. My jaw was close to breaking as I waved the phone in their faces again.

“Hey, pay attention. Was it this blonde?”

One of the guys - Chad? - squinted as he looked at Emma’s picture again. “I don’t know, man. You don’t even get to look unless you pay. They had her picture on the wall -”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I fished out my wallet and paid for my drink.

“You’re one of those Jones boys, aren’t you?”

I froze at the barkeep’s question.

He smiled and lifted a hand in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry. I’m Nemo. David’s friend? I own the place.”

I tilted my head. “Why would David tell you anything?”

He glanced around the bar and leaned forward. I came closer. “I’m one of his contacts.” He searched my eyes intently. “I wouldn’t go to that spa. Let David help you. Let us help you.”

I didn’t answer him. I tossed my bills on the bartop and strode out the door.

*********************************************************

There it was. On the corner of West Sunset and Mark Street. There was nothing fancy about it, just a crumbling brick facade and a flashing red neon sign that said simply “Spa.”

And parked right out front was a familiar white van. I had stared for hours at that piece of faded cardboard that read “tag applied for.” Rage built inside of me as I dashed towards the front of the building. I yanked open the glass door, my eyes scanning the room frantically. To my right was a counter with a receptionist behind it. Her sickening smile as she asked how she could help me made me want to punch someone. Just as the college guy had said, there was a “menu” board above her head with lists of “spa treatments.” Slid into a plastic slot beside each was a woman’s picture. I didn’t look for her picture though. I couldn’t bring myself to.

“I want to see Emma,” I demanded.

The woman’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, sir, but it doesn’t work that way.”

Clutching fistfuls of my hair, I scanned the room again. There was a swinging metal bar that blocked a narrow hallway. Beyond it, I could see women clad in skin tight dresses slumped against the walls.

“Emma!” I shouted.

“Sir,” the receptionist cried out, “you need to leave before I call the cops.”

I almost laughed. I knew which cop she would call.

“Emma!”

“Killian?”

Her voice was the sweetest sound I had heard in days.

“Emma!” I was screaming her name now.

“Killian! Killian, I’m here!”

Without a second thought, I leapt over the bar blocking my way to her. Behind me, the woman was hysterical, yelling that I had to pay if I wanted to use the “spa services.” I couldn’t believe she was still clinging to the charade.

“Emma!”

“Killian!”

I saw her then. She was trying to get around a man who was shoving her into a narrow room. He was big, but soft around the middle.

“Killian!” she screamed again, feebly pummeling the man with her fists. Something was off about her; her eyes were glassy, her movements sluggish.

I yanked the man backwards, then landed a quick fist to his jaw. He went down like a heavy rock. I reached for Emma and dragged her across the man’s prone body.

By this time, chaos had broken out all around us. Male voices were shouting, the other girls in the brothel were screaming, and feet pounded the floor. I knew there had to be an exit into the alleyway, so I pulled Emma towards the back of the building. A man lounged on a folding chair next to a heavy door marked “Exit.” He obviously hadn’t expected a breakout attempt because I easily took him by surprise, slamming the butt of the pistol I still carried into his skull. By this time, I was half carrying Emma against my side. I hauled her out the exit, and she sagged against me.

“Did ya kill em?” she slurred.

“No, love, just knocked him out.”

I hurried her down the alley and turned onto Mark Street. This area was more of a respectable one for tourists, with a well lit casino, chain restaurants, and an upscale bank. Taxi cabs and Ubers made their rounds, and friends shouted greetings out to one another. Suddenly, Emma’s legs buckled beneath her.

“I can’t Killian,” she whimpered.

“You have to,” I told her, “they could be following us.”

She managed to shake her head as she sagged further against me.

“What the hell did they give you?” I muttered as realization dawned.

“Dunno.”

Growling under my breath in anger at how she’d been treated, I scooped her up in my

arms and carried her. A giggled escaped her lips and her breath fanned against my neck. She reached up and traced my jaw with her fingertips. I looked down at her, and her face illuminated by the streetlights was so full of trust, my heart almost burst.

“You’re very handsome when you’re angry,” she told me.

All I could do was smile as I adjusted my hold on her and picked up my pace. A cab had pulled over, waiting for a customer, about a block ahead, and I needed to catch it.

“Of course,” she sighed against my skin, nuzzling her nose against my collarbone, “you’re always handsome. Soooo handsome.”

I chuckled. “I’m going to tease you about this someday. You know that, right?”

“Someday,” she sing-songed, “I love someday.”

When I reached the cab, I managed to get it open while still keeping a hold of Emma. The driver frowned when he turned towards me. My face burned at what he must be thinking. I ducked my head away from his gaze and slid Emma across the bench seat.

“She okay?”

The driver’s words were laced with suspicion.

“Aye, my wife just imbibed a little too much at the casino tonight.” I gave him a smile to reinforce my words.

The driver shifted his gaze to Emma. “Is that true? He your husband?”

“Mmmm,” Emma replied as I slid in next to her. She threw her arms around me and rested her head against my shoulder. “My husband. Isn’t he the best?”

I gave the driver a sheepish smile and he grinned back. “Sorry, mate,” he said with a thick Cockney accent, “I just always like to be careful.”

I nodded. “We all should.”

“Where to?”

I pulled out my phone and read off the address David had given me. The cabbie whistled under his breath.

“That’s up in the hills. It’ll cost ya.”

“I know. You’ll be covered, promise.”

Emma shifted against me, and I put my arm around her. With her cheek pressed to my chest, she fell asleep, her breaths rising and falling in an even rhythm. I couldn’t help holding her a bit tight, overwhelmed with the reality that she was here with me. That she was free. I knew she would be angry with me once whatever they had drugged her with wore off. She wouldn’t be pleased that I had rescued her without her sisters. Liam wouldn’t be happy either, come to think of it.

“It’s good to hear a more familiar accent.”

I startled slightly at the cabbie’s words. “Aye, it is at that. Although I’ve been here in the states awhile.”

He nodded. “I followed my girl Belle over here. She’s my wife now.”

He wiggled his left hand to show off his ring. I swallowed hoping he hadn’t noticed the lack of rings on mine and Emma’s fingers. I nodded, slipping my left hand under my knee surreptitiously.

“My name’s Will, by the way.”

“Killian.”

“Nice to meet ya, mate. My wife’s the same way. She’s a tiny thing, so it don’t take

much, ya know? But there’s something about taking care of her when she gets that way. I can’t explain it, but it makes me realize how much she trusts me, if that makes sense.”

Guilt pricked at me as the city lights turned to rocky desert. Emma’s trust was something I would go to hell and back to earn. If she’d let me.

#cs ff #cs modern au #cs movie au #captain swan is my favorite rom com #second edition #cs priceless au #human trafficking #dealt with seriously #at least I am trying really hard to write it in a sensitive way

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otonymous · 4 years

Text

Author Interview 📝

Thanks so much to @dear-mrs-otome and @alloveroliver for the tag! I loved reading your interviews; it’s so interesting to learn about what goes on in the minds of lovely and talented writers such as yourselves!

Name: Otonymous

Fandoms: Now: MLQC, Mr Love: Queen's Choice, Love and Producer, 恋与制作人…lots, as you can clearly see 🤣 Oh, and Got7 (Kpop) too.

Want to do in the future: Depends on which shiny new otome game catches my eye (and wallet). I also have some original work planned 😱😆

Where You Post: Tumblr and AO3! You can also get updates on when I post new fics on my Twitter and IG account (if you’re interested, links to these accounts can be found on the sidebar of my homepage).

Most Popular One-Shot: On Tumblr: A Moment In Time, featuring Good Ol’ Victor from MLQC (I’m noticing a trend here, ladies 😆). On AO3: Afternoon Delight (MLQC Lucien).

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: Hmm, this is a difficult question to answer, seeing as I’ve written all of ONE multi-chapter story thus far 🤣 It would have to be Served, featuring — once again! — Victor of MLQC fame.

Favourite Story You Wrote: To be honest, my current WIP, featuring this lovely gentleman: Park Jinyoung.

Colours (MLQC Lucien) is a very close second.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: Promises (SLBP Kansuke). This story was the very first fanfic I had ever written IN MY LIFE, let alone the first one I ever posted. It featured supernatural elements, major character death AND no smut (so, you know, anathema to fanfiction LOL). Hence, to all the good folks who actually read that fic and encouraged me: a giant THANK YOU! I love you all 💕😆

How You Choose Your Titles: I actually begin the process of writing my fics by choosing the title. It sets the tone for the piece, and you’ll typically find the title tucked somewhere within the text of the story 😉With respect to the ‘how’ part, I just sit there, sense the mood...and it comes to me (mind-altering substances are not involved, istg LOL)

Completed: 41, as per AO3's count. Plus a few that I've completed but never posted for one reason or another 🤷🏻‍♀️😆

Incomplete: A few (please see below, under "Coming Soon"!)

Do You Outline? ALSO flying by the seat of my pants like the lovely @dear-mrs-otome. I typically set up a playlist, slip on my headphones, and let my mind and fingers meander (that bit about the fingers sounded dirty, didn’t it?! Totally unintentional on my part, if you can believe it LOL!)

Coming Soon:

Park Jinyoung (Got7) NSFW fic (crawling my way to the finish line)

MLQC NSFW fivesome fic (I haven't forgotten, y'all! It's half written LOL)

A SUPER COOL PROJECT COMING THIS FEBRUARY…stay tuned!

Do You Accept Prompts? I do! But I typically only complete the ones I feel comfortable writing or am inspired to write. I also tend to generate ideas on my own, so I balance those with the prompts I receive in my Ask box. Furthermore, it can sometimes take me a while to finish fics. So thank you in advance, lovely readers and requesters, for understanding 💕💕

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write/ Complete: Finishing up my Park Jinyoung story! I’ve been working on this bad boy for over a month now, and it’s probably the most complicated fic I’ve written yet. I am also experimenting with a new style in terms of story structure, so we’ll see how that goes!

ALSO: the big surprise that's coming in February!!!

What do you use to edit?: I pay for Bear Pro. Because of pretty themes. And Cloud syncing. And the Bear icon. Am also not getting paid to say this LOL.

I also use Apple’s built-in dictionary to look up super common words that I use all the time, because there’s no better way to make you suddenly feel like you don’t understand a language you’ve spoken your entire life than writing fanfiction 🤪

Writing setup: I have a dedicated writing space in my home, but the essentials really are: headphones, the perfect playlist (Spotify baby - once again, not an advert), my laptop and privacy. I absolutely cannot write without the right music, and any extraneous noise throws off my concentration. Also, a giant tumbler of green or oolong tea nearby.

Do you use a beta reader? My husband. He has read every single fic I’ve ever written. He has no choice. I also like to stare at him for every minuscule reaction while he reads...not intense at all 🤣

Where do you get your writing inspo? I daydream A LOT 🤣 I tend to get my ideas while doing random things like showering, walking on the street, doing chores or just as I’m falling asleep. I also find inspiration in films with particularly beautiful cinematography and listening to soundtracks.

Can we get a quote from an upcoming WIP? [For she was nothing if not authentic. This, Jinyoung knew...from the very first time he saw her — the moment passing with the silent grace of clouds moving overhead. Steady and unobtrusive, she had slid into Jinyoung’s heart the way one barely notices an overcast sky. And by the time he found her there, it was already too late. He could neither move forward nor turn back.]

Tagging: @lin-ful, @pseudofaux, @pickled-girlfriend, @maanawa, @assomoir and anyone else who’d like to try! (Only if you guys want, and sorry if you’ve already done this!)

#tagged #writer meme #author interview #get to know me #get to know you

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whycraft · 5 years

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a lump in the throat: chapter 1

AO3 | Wattpad

A/N: This fic was inspired by this fanart! The title is from a Robert Frost quote. Shout out to @thestupidtrooper for being my beta reader.

Lava hissed and bubbled on either side of the bridge, drowning out the echo of Ex’s boots on the netherrack. His footsteps and poetry often shared a rhythm, but whether he matched his poems to his footsteps or his footsteps to his poetry, he couldn’t say. Today, though, he had neither rhythm nor poetry.

“Stupid Xisuma,” he muttered to himself. “Stupid Xisuma and his stupid Nether hub. Is he going to ban me from the Nether, too, then? Where the hell am I supposed to go next? The End?”

Still fuming, he entered the main part of his Nether fortress. The wither skeletons he passed on the way ignored him just as completely as he ignored them. He tossed his shulker boxes haphazardly against the wall and flopped down on the wool pile that served as his makeshift bed.

The moment his head touched the wool, he heard fireworks outside - the telltale sound of a hermit approaching. Probably Xisuma.

Resisting the urge to scream his frustration to the entire Nether, Ex got up and stalked over to the entrance to his Nether fortress.

“Xisuma, if you’re here about that godforsaken Nether hub -”

“In fact, I am not Xisumavoid. Unless he somehow managed to place his consciousness in my body without me noticing, in which case I wouldn’t know I was actually Xisuma.”

The fact that his unwelcome visitor wasn’t Xisuma was enough to surprise Ex, but the fact that it was Joehills was enough to shut him up. He’d never actually spoken to Joe before, much less had a visit from him.

“What do you want?” he asked, wary surprise making his tone even brusquer than usual.

Joe held out a piece of paper. "I believe this is yours, although I may be incorrect."

Ex recognized the paper instantly - it was a page from his poetry book. He snatched it out of Joe's hand. "How did you get this?"

"It was on the floor of the Nether hub."

Ex narrowed his eyes. "How'd you know it was mine?"

"Xisuma told me you'd been in the Nether hub recently, and I didn't recognize the handwriting, so I made an educated guess."

In his rush to leave the Nether hub, Ex must have failed to notice that the page had come loose from it's bindings. His poetry book desperately needed to be rebound, but slime and leather were hard to come by in the Nether.

"Thanks," he said gruffly. "Bye."

"Is it time to say goodbye already? Are we not going to exchange pleasantries that elevate our souls like a pleasant breeze?"

Ex scowled. "I don't do pleasantries."

Joe nodded thoughtfully. "It seems the breeze today is pushing us apart, but perhaps another day we'll have a chance at a brand new start."

He climbed up on the wall of the bridge and smiled back at Ex over his shoulder. "Bye!" He jumped off the bridge and activated his elytra.

Something small and white fluttered out of his pocket as he soared away.

"Hey!" shouted Ex. "You dropped something!" But Joe was already too far away to hear him.

Grumbling to himself, Ex climbed over the bridge wall and activated his own elytra. He drifted in lazy circles down to the ground where the white thing had landed.

It turned out to be a piece of paper. The bottom third of it was singed from where it had landed on magma blocks.

At first, he thought it was another page from his poetry book, but as he read the poem written on it, he realized that was absolutely not the case. For one thing, it rhymed; for another, Joehills' name was written in the top right corner.

Left behind as an accidental gift

And a clear sign of something gone amiss.

A speck of white against a sea of red:

A secret poem left for dead.

But it was the start to something

Here, the page had begun to burn away. He couldn't tell what came after the charred remains.

Had it been anything else, Ex probably would have tossed it straight into the lava or his storage room, but… well, he wanted to know how the poem ended.

The only problem was figuring out how to get to Joe. It wasn’t like Ex could just pay him a visit in the Overworld. There was a chance that he’d be able to catch him passing through the Nether hub, but he was more likely to run into Xisuma there than anyone else. He could also just shoot him a message asking him if they could meet at Ex’s Nether fortress, but that would draw Xisuma’s attention faster than he could say “suspicious.”

He sighed and folded the paper into a little square. As much as he wanted to know how the poem ended, dealing with Xisuma wasn’t worth the trouble.

He ended up sitting the poem on his desk. He read it several times over the next few days, folding and unfolding it over and over.

It was a good thing he hadn’t decided to throw it away, because a few days after Joe’s visit, he remembered that there was a way to send one-on-one messages on the communicators. He felt a bit silly for not remembering it earlier, but he’d never had a reason to use that function before, so he gave himself a pass.

[Evil_Xisuma whispered to joehillssays: Can you come by my Nether fortress some time? You forgot something here.]

[joehillssays whispered to Evil_Xisuma: Is it okay if I come over right now?]

[Evil_Xisuma whispered to joehillssays: Yeah sure.]

Ex wasn’t the greatest at time perception, what with living in the Nether and all, but he was sure it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before Joe appeared outside the main part of the Nether fortress.

“Howdy, Evil X.”

“It’s just Ex. Don’t call me evil.”

“Sorry. That was rude of me.” He pushed his glasses up. “What did I forget?”

Ex handed him the poem. “It landed on magma, so the bottom of it is gone.”

“Oh!” Joe took the poem. “So that’s where it went. Thank you, Ex, I’ve been looking for this.”

Ex shifted his weight to his other foot and cleared his throat. “How does the rest of the poem go? The bit that got burned away.”

“Oh, well, I don’t actually remember.”

“What?”

“I don’t usually remember my poems after I make them up,” Joe explained. “And I don’t like to rewrite them, so I guess this poem will be a mystery forever.”

A very irrational anger swelled up inside Ex. He’d spent so much time stressing over how to contact Joe and learn the ending of the poem, and it turned out that Joe himself didn’t even know?

“Hey,” said Joe suddenly, “I’ve got a great idea! How about you write a new ending for the poem?”

“How abou- excuse me?”

“You should write a new ending for the poem,” Joe said. “You write poetry, don’t you? I read the poem I returned to you; it was very good. Go on, give it a try.”

“I - you - I can’t just make up a poem on the spot!” Ex spluttered. “Poems take planning, and - and editing - and I don’t write rhyming poems, anyhow.”

Joe shrugged. “Don’t make it rhyme, then. I guess I’ll give you a few days to plan and edit. I don’t know how that stuff works. I don’t do it, myself. Bye, Ex! See you in a few days!”

“Wait!”

But he jumped over the bridge wall and flew away, leaving Ex standing alone in his Nether fortress, feeling rather like he’d been - somehow - bamboozled.

#evil xisuma #joehills #joe #ex #hermitcraft fic #minecraft fic #whycraft writes #my post #ngl im a little scared to put this in the main tag now that joe's on tumblr

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gold-from-straw · 5 years

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Everything That Happens - Ch6

I'm back! I'm sorry I missed last week with this story, but it was definitely for a good cause because the WONDERFUL, INEFFABLE, AMAZING @nerdherderette was going through the whole story and giving me a lot of things to think about - I'm going to be going back and making some edits over the last few chapters to make them a bit more smooth thanks to her amazing beta skillage! Thank you for your patience ^_^

Read on AO3 from the beginning if you prefer!

“Hi, Harry!” said Colin at breakfast the following day, a big cheerful grin on his face.

Harry couldn’t help but smile back. “Hi, Colin. Sorry I woke you up last night.”

“Oh, that’s fine - I was having a weird dream anyway.” He shuddered, but the darkness that passed over his face was gone in an instant. “Have a good day!”

Harry waved him off and shook his head in amusement, digging into his porridge. Hermione gave him a sly little smile that made him instantly suspicious. “What?”

“Oh… nothing.”

Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged. He shrugged back. If Hermione wanted to keep a secret, he wasn’t going to get it out of her.

He let his gaze wander over the tables, taking in the dynamics, brittle and fragile under the no-longer enchanted ceiling. The students were making a valiant effort to get back to normal, although there were places that were empty and people notable by their absence. Students whom Harry had never even spoken to had died on May the second, and many more had decided not to return, moving overseas or finishing their studies with private tutors instead.

The Slytherin’s table was now the smallest by far, the students huddling together in little clusters. Harry glanced over to the end of the eighth year table, where their own two Slytherins were sitting, a good foot or two of space between them and the nearest students.

“I don’t know what they were thinking of, coming back here,” Ron muttered, following Harry’s gaze. “Both their dads are in Azkaban, Malfoy’s mum’s under house arrest. What did they think was going to happen, that everyone was going to welcome them back with open arms?”

“Have you considered, Ronald, that they don’t have anywhere else to go? Theo’s effectively an orphan; his mum died when he was in fourth year, and Malfoy… well, would you want to be back there? Where Voldemort was living?”

Ron looked abashed. “How do you even know all that stuff about Nott’s mum?” he asked.

Harry wasn’t listening. He was watching Draco Malfoy rise from the table and slip out of the Great Hall. His white blond hair was somehow darker and lay flat on his head, his eyes were sunken and underlined with dark shadows. He looked like he had in sixth year.

Harry poked at his porridge and felt his heart rate speed up. He wondered what Malfoy had been doing in the third floor corridor last night. Not that there was any reason why he would be… doing anything, just… well, the last time Harry had noticed him sneaking around, it had ended in a war.

But Harry had a new weapon now - he didn’t have to wonder what Malfoy had been getting up to. He could go and find out.

His heart pounding, Harry excused himself from the table and slipped into an empty classroom. He took a deep breath and remembered where he’d been last night, lying in bed, unable to fall asleep. He could picture it in his mind’s eye, he could see the dorm--

-- and suddenly he was there. He sat up in bed, blinking in the darkness, and grinned.

He shoved his glasses on and fumbled for the map. There was Colin Creevey in Gryffindor, already (or still) alive, because in this timeline, Harry had saved him. The timeline in which Colin had died was gone forever; Harry could feel it in that developing sense deep in his mind, a strand cut loose and drifting free, existing only in Harry’s memory. He felt the fierce triumph pound in his blood as he scanned down the map. To his surprise, even though it was hours before Harry would have bumped into Malfoy the last time, his name was already bobbing around on the third floor.

Slinging his invisibility cloak around himself, he slipped out of the makeshift dorms and up the stairs. The corridor was as unused as Harry remembered from his first year, and for the first time, he wondered why there were so many rooms in the castle that never got used.

Strangely, Malfoy’s name wasn’t anywhere near the trapdoor Fluffy had been guarding seven years ago, but sat in the corner of one of the far rooms. Harry crept closer, his hand pressing flat against the half-open door.

“Who’s there?” Malfoy snapped, leaping to his feet and swinging his wand in an arc across the room. Harry froze, his eyes screwed up tight, berating himself for his carelessness.

“I know you’re there,” Malfoy said. He sounded like he was imitating his past self, like he’d forgotten how to be intimidating. The tip of his wand was shaking, and as Harry looked closer, he thought his lip might have been trembling too.

Malfoy slumped back in the corner, his hands coming up to clutch at his hair, his whole body folding in on itself. All of a sudden, Harry was reminded of the girls’ bathroom in sixth year, Malfoy’s despair, and the last time he went sneaking up on him.

Shame flooded through him. He’d wanted to use this gift to make things better, to change things, and here he was, making the same mistakes all over again.

Before he could think, he’d slipped the cloak off. “Malfoy?” he called softly, stepping into the room.

Malfoy leaped to his feet again, his eyes hard. “Potter,” he spat. “What do you want? Come to slice me up again?”

“Hey, you tried to-” Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “No.”

“Well… what do you want, then?”

Harry tugged at his hair. “Uh… well, I couldn’t sleep. So I was wandering around.” He shuffled his feet a bit more. “Um, are you OK?”

Malfoy laughed, high-pitched and absolutely without humour. “I’m peachy, Potter,” he said, spreading his arms.

“What are you doing here?” asked Harry, wandering further into the room. “I don’t think we’ve ever had lessons in here.”

Malfoy snorted. “Why do you think I chose it?”

Harry looked at him, his head to one side. He wasn’t sure Malfoy was going to clarify, but after a moment he spoke, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “You weren’t here last year, Potter,” he said. “Every room… they tortured people in every classroom. They made us--” He cut himself off and cleared his throat sharply. “If you’ll excuse me…” and he marched past, his shoulder thumping Harry’s on the way out.

Harry took one more look around the classroom, at the corner Malfoy had been huddled in, and felt shame prickle once more at the back of his mind as he released the thread of the past and opened his eyes to another empty classroom hours away.

***

The first time Harry went back in time to try and save Tonks, to try and argue with her, convince her to go back to her baby, she just smiled and patted him on the cheek before running off. When he went back again, fighting through the spiders and veering around the grounds to search for her and Lupin, he wasted so much time that he nearly forgot to get to the Shrieking Shack.

He lay in the darkness of his room, heart beating fast, the grief and terror and panic of that night no less intense than it had been the first time.

He rolled out of bed and wandered the castle again, his head aching dully with the pain leftover from his scar. The moon shone through the windows on the south wing, and Harry leaned out, watching his breath condense in the chilly autumn air.

Soft footsteps had him glancing up to see Draco Malfoy walking along the corridor, his head bowed. Harry watched him, wondering at the difference in his demeanour these days, the way he crept quietly from room to room and sat in silence next to Theo to complete his work. No sarcastic comments, no mockery nor cruel laughter. It was like he’d been hollowed out.

It felt familiar.

“Hey,” he said softly, and Malfoy startled to a stop, looking up cautiously like he hadn’t seen Harry there, or he’d been hoping Harry wouldn’t see him. Harry grasped for conversation, half-wondering what the hell he was doing. “Um. How’s your mum? Is she OK?”

“Why do you want to know?” Malfoy asked, his tone a mix of defiant and curious.

Harry shrugged. “I heard she was stuck there. In your house. I thought… you know she saved me, right?”

Malfoy frowned.

“She lied to Voldemort. Said I was dead when she knew I wasn’t. I mean… I guess it’s possible he actually wouldn’t have been able to kill me then, but she didn’t know.”

Malfoy walked slowly, cautiously, until he stood at the window beside Harry. Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye, saw how his thin wrists rested delicately on the windowsill, the bumps of his collarbone sticking out of his shirt. How his face looked less sunken, less bruised in the moonlight.

“She’s strong,” Malfoy said at last. “Much stronger than me. Or Father, for that matter. She’s always done what was needed for the good of the family.”

Harry nodded. For a moment they stood side-by-side and watched the thestrals wheel over the forest.

“Goodnight, Potter,” said Malfoy, his hand trailing along the windowsill as he stepped back, and he left Harry to the peace that had taken up temporary camp in his mind.

OK from now on, the next few chapters are ROUGH. I'm not kidding, it starts to get happy around chapter 11. I am not a kind person to Harry or Draco. Or... anyone... There will be MCD BUT I swear it’s only temporary - I have chosen not to use archive warnings on AO3 because this is a time travel fic and it WILL end up a fix-it. But there's A LOT of bad stuff between now and then. If you need more detail I'll be more than happy to provide <3

#My writing #Everything That Happens (Is From Now On)#drarry #Harry Potter #angst #Emotional Hurt/Comfort

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missvifdor · 5 years

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EÄLRIEL - The Twilight Child (Title FR: L’enfant du Crépuscule).

The Twilight Child or L'enfant du Crépuscule is the story I've been working on for a while and the one that's been in my head since the end of high school. This is only the number 1 chapter of the beta. The story is normally written in French but I translated it as I could. I'm a little worried about posting it now, but I really want your opinion to be able to edit and improve the story. I hope you will like it and I apologize for the spelling mistakes, as I have pointed out several times I'm French and English is not my first language. The images of the chapter do not belong to me, but to their respective authors (with the exception of the cover with the title, please do not take it)

Leave a comment, please.

Good reading !

Opening my eyes sharply, I jumped while strong blows were given on the thin wooden door of dormitory number 4. Taking a look round the room, I realized that I was once again the only one still lying in a bed. The blows rang again on the door. I snorted, taking the blanket to hide below. I knew what date it was and I did not want to get out of bed !

What would it have served, anyway?

It's not as if the same thing happened three times a year for sixty years ! Today, we, the residents of the Refuge, would go to Auska Square and there, a soldier would read us a list with the first names of the chosen ones. When the person's first name was mentioned, she was then taken to an unknown destination to fill a role. In the best case, to serve in a rich family or work in a business. In the worst... I did not prefer to think about it.

- Get up Cersheb or you'll be late for the rally ! Exclaimed a voice behind the door, after further blows on the wood.

I moaned for good measure, then I decided to get up. I had to be quick to prepare myself ! While searching under the bed, I grabbed the package containing the few clothes and trinkets I had amassed over the years. I grabbed a garment at random. I frowned at the smell of crumpled fabric, but it was the only "clean" thing I had. By closing my things, I did not bother to look at my appearance in the slightly broken mirror hanging on the wall. I did not have time to make myself a little presentable. I adjusted the necklace in Helril around my neck, even if it did not change the discomfort that offered me the "jewel". When I opened the wooden door, I found myself face to face with one of my friends in dormitory.

-You have been slow, Cersheb ! Exclaimed Haryav, fists on the hips. You even missed breakfast !

I just shrugged in response. I also rolled my eyes on the nickname that everyone had given me and that had stuck to my skin since I arrived here. But I did not correct my friend for that, I was used to it.

-It's not with a tiny bowl of wheat porridge and a glass of milk that I'm going to eat anyway, I said. And it leaves to others, the little ones need it much more than me.

Haryav frowned but said nothing. The young blonde with green eyes knew that I was right. In truth, my stomach was too tight to swallow anything. Haryav was fifty years younger and smaller. She barely reached the height of my shoulders when I was already not very tall myself. Going down the creaky stairs to the ground floor, Haryav asked with fear:

-You think that many of us will be chosen ?

-Honestly... I do not know, Haryav. But if that's the case, I hope you're destined to become a domestic or a seller in a good shop...

He observed a moment of silence as we approached a group of girls gathered in front of the front door. They were all disciplined in pairs under the severe but nevertheless maternal eyes of Big Sister Osvarda. Still in silence, Haryav and I stood in line to close the march. Big Sister Osvarda, after seeing us join the group, gave us the last instructions. She was a former resident of the Refuge and had taken over the position of former director. She was a very beautiful woman with long auburn hair and black almond eyes.

-Well, ladies, you know the rules. You stay in line with your partner, you do not say a word when we leave the passage to reach the Auska Square and you keep your eyes on the ground. Is that clear ?

We responded to everyone in chorus.

-Yes, Big Sister Osvarda !

The woman shook her head with satisfaction, even though the glimmer of life disappeared from her eyes. Big Sister Osvarda always seemed to have big pebbles in her belly at every rally in Auska Square. And it was understandable. Who would have liked to see the children that you had practically raised being forced to leave the only house they knew once again ?

Soon we left the Refuge and quickly found ourselves in the long underground passage that connected it to the city center, specifically to Auska Square.

Still crossing the passage after twenty minutes, Haryav turned in my direction and spoke in a trembling voice.

-Cersheb, I'm scared...

-It's normal, it's your first gathering, I say, trying to reassure her. But do not worry, I do not think you'll leave for Huzza Tower.

Haryav had a long shudder of anguish, as if a curse had been launched against the simple name of the tower. In front of us, Mirdwim and Hilfallura jumped and turned to me, looking at me angrily.

-Do not talk about the tower ! Hilfallura moaned, clutching his jaw.

-You will learn to listen to others' conversation. But... Sorry, it's gone without doing it on purpose...

-It's easy to say, Cersheb ! Mirdwim hissed with displeasure. Since my arrival at the Rafuge, you have not been chosen once and you know why ? Because you were born Risnes !

-Mirdwim !

Hilffallura and Haryav exclaimed at the same time to reprimand our comrade. She widened her eyes and turned red peony as she apologized to me. I did not take into account his nasty comment, Mirdwim was right and then the Huzza tower always got everyone on their nerves. Not once in sixty years have I been chosen at a rally. I had neither the gift of the sun nor that of the moon. It was rare, but Sidra's children were born without a gift. These children, we called them the Risnes and that's what I was. In short... Without a minimum capacity of my people, I was rather useless in the eyes of this kingdom.

If there was no Helril necklace around my neck, it would have been possible for me to pass for a normal human child if we were an exception to my age.

The situation of a child Risnes was quite arbitrary. Some were born with a small capacity that allowed them to bleed very little ammolite. Others had a long life (longer than that of a human, but much shorter than that of a Sidra in full possession of its means). And for the poor, they will do absolutely nothing. Risnes without any talent had the misfortune of being of a horribly fragile consistency and their lifespan was as short as that of an ordinary human being. When a child Risnes no gift would die, it turned into dust of stars that ended up being sown by the wind ... For my part, I inherited a long life, but that was all. That's why I was the eldest of the Refuge, nobody wanted me.

An atrocious silence as we arrived at the end of the long and narrow passage. It ended with an outside staircase. We were then dazzled by the sunlight. Some of my comrades, including Hilfallura and Hariav, sigh with satisfaction as they feel the golden rays on the skin of their faces. Even with the Helril necklace, they could still feel the benefits and their connection to the sun. They were lucky. For my part, I did not feel anything at all except a slight warming on my skin...

By a whisper, Big Sister Osvarda beckoned us to get on a podium placed in the middle of the square, especially for that, and made us respect a more or less orderly order. I usually ride on this stage watching the curious crowd and interested parties. But I still feel like the last fashion accessory for Mermortiens. It was like a sort of competition for whoever would have the most beautiful and powerful Sidra at their service. The group waited silently on the square, staring at the floor, as we had learned from a very young age. We waited a few more minutes, when suddenly a sound of metal steps crashed on the sidewalk as he approached. Finally, the noise stopped and a loud and disdainful voice rose in the crowd, right in front of the stage.

-Sidra, are your wards fifty to seventy years old ? The soldier said, glancing at Big Sister Osvarda, a small roll of parchment under his arm.

-Yes, my Lord...

The armored man nodded with satisfaction, then unrolled his little roll of parchment. From the top of my place on the stage, I glanced between my eyelashes to the newcomer. He seemed to be swimming in his military paraphernalia and had a rather ridiculous mustache that he seemed to wear with pride. He also seemed to be new to this post because he had a shining armor of a thousand shines under the rays of the day.

His promotion was to be fresh. The man glanced at us quickly before clearing his throat to read. I looked down just in time ! If I had met his eyes, I was sure he would have taken it as a challenge and I would have been good to be hanged by the feet while I was dragged around the city for me to humiliate publicly !

-I will now call the names of the selected girls and the selected ones will advance to the podium. Well, I'm starting ... Taryav, daughter of Aürimel !

Hmm... I have by far preferred the former soldier responsible for the call. She may have been old, but at least she read the list without flaying a single name and did not take three minutes to appear in her soft-eyed armor when a group of women crossed the square ! The call lasted for a moment that seemed endless, pushing six girls (among whom was Mirdwim) to the podium, trembling with terror, their balls clasped in their hands.

-... And finally, Talil, daughter of Saewe !

This name was mine and I was so surprised to hear it at that moment that I was half frozen, in shock. It took me a few more seconds to get it right, as well as the intervention of another girl who pinched my back skin just behind me to move me ahead of the stage with the others.

-I was chosen... I thought, throat knotted.

It had been so long since I had not heard of my own name or that of my mother... I had become so used to being called Cersheb that it was strange to hear my name again. Feeling the weight of the glances in the back, I glanced at Big Sister Osvarda and my comrades. They seemed as shocked as me, as if they had never imagined the day I could be chosen. I thought... I do not know, I was going to go unnoticed for this gathering and go back to the Refuge with the rest of the boarders. Like always. The soldier rechecked his list and the number of girls, then ordered us not to step on the podium and announced the departure for our new "houses". We were two by two, waiting for our new chaperon to tell us to follow him. Instead, we started walking down an adjacent street, but we were stopped by a very recognizable voice in my ears.

-Wait ! Exclaimed Osvarda in a trembling voice. May I say goodbye to my boarders, please ? Your predecessor has always given me a minute to say goodbye...

-I do not have time for...!

Not listening to the end of the man in armor, I ran into the arms of the auburn woman! I wanted her to hug me one last time before diving into the unknown ! Soon, my comrades joined me to shake our former guardian in our arms. For many of us, Osvarda was the most of a mother or a big sister, it was hard to leave her like that overnight.

. -Stay here ! Barked the man, shaking his mustache with annoyance.

Osvarda glanced rather frightened at the man, but we still hugged him a second time. She murmured words of love, encouragement, and comfort in the virlanman (sidra language), which was the forbidden language. We had all the tears in our eyes while Osvarda was waving us to queues before aggravating the situation. It was particularly painful for me to stand in line as I held back tears about to flow from my eyes. Each of us shook hands with his partner to show his support. I still felt sick when we finally left Auska Square and the only place where I felt safe was moving away from me.

#imagine #original story #chapter 1 #beta #fantasy #magic #reader beta #character creating #my ocs #my fic #fiction #story fantasy

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hypermoyashi · 5 years

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Okay, so, hi everyone? I’ve gotten some new followers, which is a bit surprising, and I’m sure some of you are aware of the discourse currently happening the mdzs fandom. Normally, as my about page states, I will not participate in fandom discourse under any circumstances, but as I was personally signaled out in this, I’ll be making an exception just this once. I’ll be placing everything under a cut just so those of you who don’t want this discourse showing up on your dash can avoid it.

Okay, so if you’re unaware, a blocklist was recently created of people in the fandom that minors should avoid/be aware of. I, as well as one of my good fandom friends, was on this list. I will not be posting links to said list in any way, shape, or form, as I believe it is poorly worded and just wholely not handled well in its original context.

I’d like to preface this entire post with one important idea: you curate your own fandom experience. I actually encourage blocking/blacklisting things and people who make you uncomfortable, just be respectful about it. You don’t need to announce it, or let someone know you’re blocking them. If I in any way make you uncomfortable for any reason, and you are uncomfortable talking to me about it to try and fix the problem, then please unfollow me, block me, or whatever will make you the most happy and comfortable. In the end, fandom is about fun, and it shouldn’t be taken too seriously. It shouldn’t be used to hurt people.

I can’t say I’m not upset that I and my friend were included, and while I don’t know most of the people on that list enough to make a judgment, based on the reasons my friend and I were listed, I don’t believe the judgment of the original creator of the list was wholly sound. For full transparency, I am going to include why I, personally, was signaled out.

The first reason is for my submission here: https://mxtxpositivity.tumblr.com/post/183334608470/fic-rec-realize-what-you-never-knew-by

The fic I recommended is a fic that the friend I previously mentioned wrote, and I recommended it because I enjoy it and I enjoy supporting my friend’s writing. Now, the fic in question is about the junior trio, but it is written in a context where they are older and not minors. To be fair, my friend did not tag for this, and the lack of a tag for it was not something that I, as her beta, caught, either. I don’t particularly intend to debate whether or not it’s okay to write sexual content about young characters after they’ve been aged up, as it’s a rather gray area and whether it will bother you will vary. If it does bother you, however, that’s perfectly valid and I encourage you to avoid it. Blacklisting is a wonderful thing, and ao3 now includes a function to exclude ships.

The second reason I was signaled out in this post is for this: http://hypermoyashi.tumblr.com/tagged/yaoi

And just so it’s clear that I have not altered or cleared this in any way, here’s a screenshot with the time and date in the corner:

I would scroll down to show you guys more of the tag, but there is none. My yaoi tag is just two posts. This is the basis for which I was said to “support yaoi.” I’d like to point out that one post is literally a criticism of the genre as a whole. I have no idea why I tagged the second post as yaoi, but it was reblogged three years ago. It is not something I would reblog and tag that way today. I’ve used the same blog, the same username, for well over seven years now. There is bound to be some stuff here that doesn’t reflect who I am today, and there is also bound to be things that I’ve mistagged or not tagged appropriately in the past. I do not have the energy to clean absolutely everything out, but if you would like to point something out to me, I will be happy to change it. For my purposes, I’m not going to be altering my yaoi tag, in case anyone wants to check it for themselves.

Now, just as an off-topic, I’d like to point out that I’m bi/gray ace. I don’t hate yaoi per say, but I do dislike the picture its common tropes paint of the lgbtqa+ community, as anyone who has spoken with me for five minutes about it can tell you.

This is all I was flagged for, but in the name of transparency, I am also going to include something that, had our original poster of the list seen, would’ve been additional reasons for me to land on the list.

I am writing an A.B.O. fic for HOB. It will also contain an explicit scene in the future, and it contains some pretty heavy triggers such as attempted suicide and CSA/abuse. I know A.B.O. tends to be controversial for many, many reasons, but for the record, all characters retain their full facilities during any and all explicit scenes, on or off screen, and are able to consent or not consent to what is going on. Anything of that nature that happens to a minor does not happen on screen and is appropriately tagged as CSA. I also do not endorse or want minors reading this fic, but I’ll get into that later.

Now, does any of this disprove that I’m a potential danger to minors? No, it does not.

For one, disproving a negative is an impossibility. To demonstrate this, I’ll be using the same analogy my statistics teacher used. You have a field. You’re looking for cows. To find some cows, you divide the field up into twenty sections. Unfortunately, you only have the capability to check five of the sections. You check these five sections, and you don’t find any cows. Can you say, for sure, that there are no cows in the field? Nope. Because it’s impossible to check every section, and there could be cows in the sections you don’t check.

I cannot open up the entirety of my memory and history to prove that I have definitely never hurt a minor. It is absolutely never my intention, and if I have, I deeply apologize for it. But I have no way of disproving a negative because it is mathematically impossible.

Now that we’ve gotten up to this point, some of you might be thinking, isn’t treating such a baseless accusation so seriously, in a way, giving it validity? Well, in a way, sort of. The accusation is entirely baseless, yes, and this is going to be the only time I’m going to argue something like this in this way. It upset me, and it’s there, so I want to address it.

Now, I’m going to reference my about page. Here it is:

The text reads, “Hello! I thought, after about five years of owning this blog, give or take, it was probably time to make an about page.

“I mainly write fanfiction, which is almost always posted to ao3 and linked here unless it’s particularly short. Minors are definitely welcome; I don’t reblog or post N**SFW images or videos, nor do I write smut, though please be aware that this blog is “view at your own risk.” I tag for common triggers and potentially harmful content, so it’s up to you to know your limits and blacklist appropriately. That being said, if you need me to tag anything in addition to what I already do, please don’t hesitate to ask!

“My fandoms right now are mainly Bungou Stray Dogs, Heaven Official’s Blessing, Mo Dao Zu Shi, Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens, Pandora Hearts, Vanitas no Carte, Akatsuki no Yona, and D.Gray-man. Please be aware that although I do have particular ships I like, I’m not really that into shipping as a whole.

“I don’t reblog shipping discourse nor will I interact with hostile shippers. If you would like to talk about shipping with me, please do, just be nice! As a bonus, I love platonic relationships, so please talk with me about those if you enjoy them, too.

“ところで、私の日本語はちょっとわるいですけど、話すのが好きです。

“Finally, I consider this blog to be a safe place for me and others that does not discriminate based on race, gender identity, sexual orientation, mental health, physical ability, national origin, or religion. If that bothers you, please click the “back” or “x” button on your browser.

“With all that out of the way, welcome to my blog! I love talking with people, so feel free to message me or leave an ask. I swear you won’t be bothering me. Happy blogging!”

Now, I am going to edit this at some point, because I have written smut now. It’s not posted, but it’s still something I intend to post. But yeah, as of 3/13 around 5pm, that was my about page, and I have not changed it for quite a while. (Sorry I’m not quite as chipper today ^^”)

One of the links on my about page leads to this page:

Which reads:

A quick guide to my tagging system!

my fanfiction: stuff I’ve written

text post: stuff I’ve made/said

q: things posted from my queue (it is a very long queue)

art by op: If there’s no source, then I’m reasonably certain that this art was created by the original poster. If I’m wrong, please let me know and I’ll delete it imeidiately.

icons: whenever I save an icon, whether I use it or not, I reblog it under this tag

personal and/or ramblings: just me talking. Sometimes I won’t even tag these kinds of posts

— mention: normally reserved for common triggers, i.e. “Donald Trump mention” or “sex mention”

n**sfw warning: as stated in my about page, I don’t reblog n**sfw images or videos, but I do reblog n**sfw fic recs (ie links to explicit content) that is unsuitable for minors. If you’re a minor viewing my blog, please blacklist this tag if you feel the need to!

spoilers: anything and everything I think constitutes a spoiler. Sometimes I’m bad about tagging these, though. I don’t tag for specific fandoms, like “su spoilers” or “bsd spoilers,” so please beware of that.

And, for reference, this is the basis for which I generally rate my fics:

G (General Audiences): Anyone can read this

T (Teen Audiences): Anyone 13+ can read this

M (Mature Audiences): Anyone 17/18+ can read this (16 is fine, too, I think, depending on what the reader is comfortable with. My M rated fics often include dark/sexual themes, though, so 17/18 is the more comfortable range)

E (Explicit): Only people who are 18+ should read this (probably not gonna rate anything this since I don’t write smut unless I just really don’t want to endorse any minors reading it)

Again, this should probably be updated as I have written smut, however infrequent. I try to tag for common triggers, and I have asked here that minors under a certain age not read particular fics. All of my fics that depict unhealthy relationships, darker or sexual themes, or anything that I would be uncomfortable with a minor reading are rated Mature or Explicit, depending.

So all in all, I have tried my best to provide a positive experience to anyone who enjoys my content, and I try to tag so that potentially harmful content doesn’t reach those that it might hurt. I’m not perfect, and I can’t control everything. A minor can still go in and read my Explicit/Mature fics on ao3, no matter how much or how loudly I ask them not to. My content is meant to inspire, to show that life can suck, but in the end, everyone is worth it and continue on.

And, on that caveat, I’d like to point out that I generally take a stance of “create and let create.” Freedom of expression is the greatest gift anyone can be given. Yes, avoid content that hurts you, but please don’t lash out at those who create it. Until you know exactly why they’ve created it, what their history is, and what thoughts or feelings they were working through while creating it, please leave them be. Creators should tag their works so people can avoid content that might be harmful to them, but content that is harmful to one person might be another person’s lifeline.

But the reason I’ve laid this all out is that I want you to judge for yourself. Do I seem like someone you want to be friends with? Do I seem like someone harmful? Do I seem like someone you are indifferent to? Please make the decision that is best for you, and if you happen to want to be friends, please let me know ^^

Now, finally, I hope to see a more positive fandom experience come of this. I say all this, however negative or bleak it might be for me, because it was important for me to work through my thoughts, and I hope that something positive can come of honesty and communication.

Please don’t go after the original poster of the list, if you know who they are. It’s better just to let it go. The person seemed to have had good intentions, however ill-executed they were, and talking to them is only going to create more ill will and negativity for everyone. I believe, at least in part, the reason their list is so unfounded and baseless is because the content they cited genuinely hurts them, and when creating the list, they did not look at the full context of everything they were citing. And, well, context is everything, really. This doesn’t really excuse them, as they still hurt people with a largely unhelpful and thoughtless post, but brewing the negative feelings helps no one. I would also like to state that the fact that the content hurts them is not the fault of any of the creators. If you tag appropriately, but someone doesn’t take the time to blacklist or otherwise protect themself from content they know will hurt them, then that’s on them.

Fandom is a really interesting place. It’s full of so many diverse and wonderful people--minors and adults, lgbtqa+ and allies, tons of different nationalities--we should really take more steps to look out for one another. If there’s anything I could be doing better, please let me know. My experience with the mdzs fandom hasn’t been great up to this point, and I want to change that. I love this show, and I also want to love the people who love it alongside me.

Remember, for every not so great person, there are twenty more lovely people just waiting to meet you. And I hope that, from here on, those lovely people get every good thing they deserve.

#discourse #csa mention #abuse mention #rape mention #suicide mention #really if you have any super common triggers please don't read this #not tagging the fandom #and it probably wont show up in the tags because looong #but yeah here is my only participation in discourse #id prefer no reblogs #but feel free to reply #or message me

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goodluckdetective · 7 years

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Fic: Backward Chaining

AO3: x

Summary: 479er and Caboose are siblings. it makes more sense then you might think

This edition: Freelancer always had a cruel sense of humor. Neither Niner, nor Caboose will ever truly know how far that sense of humor extends.

Takes place near the tail end of BGC.

Characters: A Caboose sibling, Price.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: BIG THANKS TO STEPH FOR BEING THE MVP BETA.

Over the years, Professor Taylor Caboose has made no effort to hide their utter loathing for the UNSC. A sign on their door encourages students to talk to them about financial aid before signing up with the guard, newspaper clippings about the UNSC’s war crimes are prominent on their corkboard, they dedicate one lecture a year to the UNSC’s gruesome history with AI. Every single student who has taken one of their classes knows not to debate them on such matters unless they have the facts to back it up, and even those who do usually don’t bother.

College students can be particularly dense, but none of them miss the small table in the corner of Professor Caboose’s office. It’s bare except for three things; a picture frame with two photos in it, a candle and small vase containing a fresh flower. None of them miss the two figures in the picture either, dressed in full military regalia and covered with the same freckles that cover their professor’s face.

So when Professor Caboose sends out an email to let their classes know they’re canceling office hours to talk to some UNSC agents, everyone knows it won’t end well.

Professor Caboose’s office is just big enough for himself and the three agents. Two of them look to be bodyguards for the more official looking one: a black man with a balding head and a strained smile. Counselor Price, or so he says. In his hands is a folder and he looks towards the table in the corner. There is no surprise in his eyes when he takes in the pair in the photos.

“You have family who serve I see?”

“Who served.” Taylor responds, making room on their desk. It’s full of papers and research, and Price doesn’t miss how they tuck it away to places he can’t see. Clever. “But you knew that, didn’t you? You don’t seem the type not to run a background check.”

“You would be correct. I apologize; I thought it rude not to ask. Michael and Andromeda, correct?”

“Yes.” Taylor shot a glance at the photographs then looked away.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Taylor put another folder away before they responded. “Andi died a few years ago. A crash they said. Mikey died last year. Didn’t get a body for either.” With that Taylor levels their gaze on price, a sharp glare that makes them look twice their age. It’s an indictment, Price knows that, of the people he represents. He ignores it.

“You have two still serving, correct?”

Taylor puts away the last of their folders before they respond. “Yes. Rose and Lily. Rose is a Lieutenant somewhere and Rose is a doctor on some outpost.”

“Do you talk to them often?”

Taylor sat down and met his gaze again. “Does that matter?”

Price shook his head. “No, no it does not.” He put the folder he was holding on Taylor’s desk. It was sealed shut, and marked classified in bold letters. Taylor looked down at it with a expression of disgust.

“If this is a job offer, my answer is already no.”

“It’s not a job offer. More a consultation.” Price leaned back in his chair. “You are a remarkable roboticist for your age.”

“Flattering me won’t make me help you.”

“It is not flattery if it is the truth. Your paper on rampancy was incredibly informative.” He pushed the folder forward another inch. “We have been contacting experts on A.I and human interaction.”

“Why? To kill people faster?”

“No. To heal damage already done.” Price sat back in his chair. “A few of our troops in a smaller sector ran into hostile A.I. We’re not sure the source; alien perhaps, maybe a small colony in rebellion. Either way, the damage they caused to the human brain; well, we need an expert if we have any hope of trying to treat them. We think your skills could be of use.”

Taylor reaches for the folder, but they don’t open it. Their fingers glide across the text that says classified in all caps. The printed ink has a different feel than the stiff envelope. “You don’t know the source of the A.I?” They looked up eyes narrowed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes. And if you don’t, that is of no concern to me. All I am here for is to assist these soldiers and their families.”

Taylor is silent before they turn the envelope over. They open up the envelope and peer inside, mouth turning into a grimace. Then they look up. “Brain scans? I’m not a neurosurgeon.”

“We’ve already talked to a neurosurgeon. Their feedback was useful, but lacking on the subject of A.I interactions-”

Price stops talking as Taylor pulls out the scans and gasps. They recover their expression quickly, but the horror in their eyes is obvious. As they lay out the brain scans onto their desk, it’s easy to see why. On all of the scans, there are clear signs of brain damage, small white dots to mark lesions, other sections highlighted like that of stroke victim. Taylor looks at each for a long moment, their pointer finger following each mark and irregularity.

“An A.I did this?” They say, incredulous.

“Yes.” Price points to the one on their far right. “This was done by an A.I on a soldier in his twenties. So far he’s shown signs of extreme memory loss, confusion and exacerbated anger issues. We believe the A.I tried to destroy itself in his head.”

“It tried to destroy itself?” Taylor says, eyes wide. “Was it rampant?”

“We do not believe so.”

“And it was a smart A.I?”

“Correct.”

“Jesus.” Taylor looked over at the next scan and read the information of the patient on the top. “This kind of damage; it looks like a stroke.”

“One full A.I. They’re still there; we believe they are controlling him.”

“Controlling him?” Taylor almost dropped the scan. Such a thing was theoretically possible with smart A.I and implantation, but they’d never heard of an actual case. “And you haven’t pulled it?”

“We are worried it could cause more damage.”

“Better than leaving it in,” Taylor said pointing to sections of the brain that looked off on the scan. “With implantation, there’s a bleed between an A.I and its human partner if you’re careful. And this job was absolutely not careful.” They pointed to various sections about the scans that looked to be reaching out. “From what I can see, the A.I is the dominant force in this implant, not the human. The longer you leave it in, the more sections it might control or shape. Let it stay that way, the brain itself might not be able to use to same functions on it’s own.”

“We are worried if we pull it they might have the same effect as well.” Price pointed to the last scan on the table. Taylor looked at it, taking in the damage. It looked like the result of a catastrophic brain injury, not an A.I. “Three A.I attempted to control this man at once. While they were able to be removed the damage-”

Taylor was already speaking. “Trouble with motor functions, lost of attention span, severe if not total memory loss, damage to linguistic centers, impairment to problem solving functions.” They looked at Price. “What did these A.I do? Have a fight in his head?”

“We believe so.”

“Well shit.” Taylor took each of the scans and placed them on top of one another, putting them back in the folder. “Can I keep these? And have any data on the A.I themselves if you have it.”

“Of course.” Price stood up and the agents next to him stood up as well. “So you agree to consult us on this matter.”

“Only because of the ramifications it has to my research. And the chance to help the poor bastards whose scans you brought me.” They tucked folder under their arm and opened up their computer, typing with one hand. Price headed for the door, but Taylor spoke up right before he opened the door.

“Counselor Price?”

“Yes Professor?”

Taylor was quiet, pressing their lips together. They glanced at the photos on the long table, then looked at Price. “I request you tell the families what really happened to their loved ones. None of this classified bullshit.” They looked down at their nameplate on their desk. On the side that was blank, a small medal hung. One won by a pilot who’d gone down with her ship. They met Price’s eyes. “They deserve to have answers.”

Price’s face showed no emotion as he replied. “They have already been told, but I appreciate your concern.” He opened the door and stepped outside. “Have a good day.”

Taylor watched the door close behind him and got up, walking up over to the table where they kept their photographs. They reached for the one of Michael and sighed. It was taken right before his deployment, right when he’d been 18 and convinced he would be better in the army then at school. Two years later they were informed he died with the barest of information. Classified they said. Taylor would likely never have their answers on what exactly happened to him.

“At least they’ll know,” Taylor said, patting the file folder under their arm. The records of three men were contained inside, two of them the ages Michael would have been. Taylor might hate the UNSC but not enough to deny those families the same answers they’d been denied.

“Bye Mikey. Bye Andi,” Taylor said, leaving their office for their robotics lab. As the door closed, a sliver of light fell on the two photographs, a fleeting moment of sun. And in the same instant it appeared, it was gone.

#iz writes #rvb #caboose sibs

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