D&D Series Pt 4 - For the Crown

Summary: Heading into the haunted forest might not have been the wisest of choices for the escaping trio. Especially, when things don’t go according to plan and hard choices have to be made, the prince’s secrets are revealed, and a mischievous ‘little’ figure appears.

Pairing: F! Reader x Dark Prince! Hyunjin

Warnings: Injury, blood, falling off horses, kidnapping (kind of), use of magical abilities, unprotected sex, dom/sub themes, brat taming, spanking, biting, teasing, marking, bondage, degradation, overstimulation, hair pulling (giving and receiving), fingering, oral, heartbreak (kinda), betrayal.

Note: Series will be on a semi-hiatus until I am caught up with the special stuff you’ll see dropping on the 28th! 

Word Count: 6,518

Previous Part ______ Next Part

You had never been one to truly fear something that was haunted, but seeing how everything else in this world had made you a little uneasy about racing into the haunted forest like this. Mostly due to the fact that you were unsure what to expect, fearing the unknown more than anything else in this strange world. You had no time to contemplate it, though, as you followed behind Chan and Felix, needing to get away before Hyunjin and his men could catch up to you. Not knowing what might happen if you were caught, again, if he was as cruel as you had heard that he was, who knew what kind of future you would have if you were not able to get away. Tree branches lashing out in an attempt to snag you as you raced in, letting the boys lead the way as you had no idea where you were going or what to do if you came face to face with a threat in the forest. The deeper in you got, though, the harder it became to keep up. The other two were easily far more experienced riders than you. They could effortlessly navigate through, while you struggled to follow, it only became worse as a heavy fog rolled in. Chan and Felix, occasionally calling out to you to ensure you were following behind them, though while they could still make out your outline, they did not grow too concerned, unlike your current doubts.

__

Hyunjin had no hesitations about following your group into the forest. His men, on the other hand, came to a swift halt at the edge of the forest, causing Hyunjin to turn to look over the anxious men who were eyeing the forest as if it would reach out and swallow them whole at any second.

“Well? What are you all waiting for?” Hyunjin raises a brow, eyes burning through each and every man that was hesitating before him as his horse trotted along the edge of the forest.

“H-Highness, all due respect, but are we actually going to go into the haunted forest? Y-You much have heard the very same stories as we have about the things that happen to anyone that enters.” One of his men stuttered out, uncertain what he feared more, the forest or the prince’s wrath.

“I have, and that’s all they are....stories...myths. I do not fear anything that this forest holds, I have been through and back more times than anyone else and have yet to face any true danger, but if I am the only one. Then I guess I will just have to retrieve the princess myself.” Hyunjin huffs before guiding his horse to turn back towards the forest and racing off in the direction that you three had gone in only moments ago. Seeing shadows in the distance, fog blurring the details of their forms, but they were moving nonetheless, and that was all he needed to know to determine that he had found those whom he was tracking.

The men you followed were sure you knew what you were doing, after years of training that the princess must have had in riding. Yet you, you were no princess... you had appeared in this world with no warning and such a lack of experience in this area that you truly struggled at this moment. Hope was not yet lost though, as long as they remained in sight, you would likely find your way out of this forest alive. Your heart starts to beat in time with the pounding of hooves, though not those of your horse, the ones slowly gaining on you from behind, a single, distinct set. Something you attempted to speed up and away from, wanting the safety of being closer to the men you were traveling with. It seemed futile, though, as the same entrancing blue speck of light from the forest dances before your horse now, starting him into bucking you off with a startled yelp before racing off in the opposite direction and directly towards the figure chasing you. Chan and Felix’s shadows disappearing within a matter of seconds into the thickening fog before you, only allowing you to hear their distant calls to you. Something you would have returned if your chest wasn’t currently radiating pain after the wind got knocked out of you during the fall. A thick liquid, feeling running down your forehead from your hairline, but you hurt too much to bring your hand up to see what it was. Barely able to lift your eyes enough to see a figure approaching as the fog clears around him, slowing down at the sight of you, before stopping. Your eyes feel heavy as you try to remain conscious, knowing it could be a danger that those approaching feet hold, it seems confirmed as the figure crouches over you and finally shows you their face...Hyunjin...

“You took a nasty fall princess, just go to sleep. I’ll get you someplace safe and fix you up.” Hyunjin, gently stroked over your hair, his words seemingly casting a spell on you, finally making you give in to the looming darkness. Hyunjin lifting you carefully onto his horse before heading towards a cabin that he already knew, was hidden among these very woods.

Chan and Felix coming to a halt and panicking as they no longer heard or saw you following. Turning back to look for any sign of you, only finding some blood and then further back your horse alone. Panic setting in as they were unsure what to do. 

“Felix head to the kingdom and give them this map, I’m going after Y/N!” Chan insisted, holding the valuable item out to him, causing Felix’s eyes to widen and him to scoff.

“You can’t be serious, they would never let me anywhere near the castle. No one there knows me! You have to take it! I swear to you on my life, I’ll find her and get her back safely.” Felix shakes his head, refusing to take it and sticking Chan in a predicament. Could he trust Felix to find and save you? At the same time, Felix had a point though there was no way they would let Felix in without someone familiar with him. Making the situation only further complicated as he tried to think of what would be best.

___

The first thing you were able to do was groan about the throbbing pain radiating in your head as you regained consciousness. Feeling something cool and damp gently prodding at where the thick liquid had previously originated and eased the pain some. Hearing Hyunjin clicks his tongue disapprovingly as your stirring starts to cause too much movement.

“Hold still, or you’ll make your injuries worse. I’m trying to help, but I can’t do that if you don’t cooperate.” Hyunjin’s words were firm and would almost come off as harsh if there wasn’t a certain fondness in them. Your eyes slowly squinting and blinking as they tried to open again despite the heaviness still present until you could see Hyunjin sat beside you. His form leaned over yours, gently dabbing the blood off your head injury and other scratches he could find.

“Where are we?” Your eyes fluttered around the room, it seeming much smaller than what could be expected at the castle, much quieter as well. Finding it odd that Hyunjin seemed so at home in such an abandoned-looking place such as this, moving between you and the medical supplies a few feet away as if it were second nature.

“We are still in the woods, in a small cabin. You are not really in any condition to travel right now, so I brought you here to care for you. Once I finish this, I’ll make us something to eat so you can rest and recover. However, you may not have that much energy for a few days.” Hyunjin explains before gently pressing over your sides and abdomen, trying to feel for any further injuries, “Does it hurt anywhere when I do this?” 

You give a soft shake of your head, blushing a little at his caring nature, "It doesn't my back is a little sore, but I think that was because of how hard I landed on it. Mostly just that and my head, though.”

Hyunjin nods, “Well your head is already bandaged up, though it might bleed through, so I’ll likely have to change it a few times. As for your back, I’d like to check that and your ribs further, but I promise to provide you with decency. I can give you a shirt, something I can lift enough to see while keeping the rest covered. If you’re feeling up to getting it on, that is. I could unlace you and help you sit up. If you don’t feel up to it, I can try to think of something else.” 

“I think I can change myself just fine if I have that bit of help.” You agree to allow him to help you roll over so his fingers can gently unlace and loosen your corset top before turning you back around to help you sit up. Once it was loose enough, he wasn’t worried about it doing further damage. Hyunjin helping you to sit with pillows propped behind you. Going over to a drawer and pulling out some pants and a loose shirt to sit beside you on the bed. Your confusion must have been evident on your face because he chuckles when he looks at you again.

“You have questions, don’t you princess?” Hyunjin inquires, humming as you nod. He heads towards the door to give you privacy as he answers you, “When we’ve finished this and eaten, I’ll answer all your questions...Call me when you’re decent again. I’ll be right outside, okay?”

You nod, letting him go while doing your best to change out of the trapping dress you’d been stuck in for so long. It is a relief to have some clothes that allowed you to move more freely. Even if not for the best reason or if it was the easiest with your current injuries. 

“You can come back in Hyunjin.” You eventually call, slowly trying to ease yourself back onto the bed again, something Hyunjin rushes over to assist you with doing.

“I can look yes?” Hyunjin asks, looking to you for confirmation once again, waiting for your nod before continuing. His fingers, slowly pushing your shirt up to expose your abdomen, only touching your skin when he has to, so he would not make you uncomfortable. Careful with his touch as well, pressing gently on the bruises that are exposed, to make sure that’s all they are before gently pulling your shirt back down, to help you roll over and do the same with your back. After he has checked you over, he helps you lay on your back again, tucking you in to stay warm.

“Everything looks alright, only surface stuff other than your head. I think you’ll be alright, though, if you simply rest. I’ll go make you something to eat, but if you need anything, just call me.” Hyunjin brushes your hair out of your face in one last fleeting touch before he’s gone. 

You know you should be trying to rest, being left alone with your thoughts though you find yourself unable to. So many questions coming to mind and making your thoughts race with possible answers. Wondering why others would paint such a horrid picture of Hyunjin when here he was acting like this. More than that, though, why did Hyunjin seem so at home here? Someplace so normal looking, unlike where royalty typically stayed, and in the middle of not just any forest, but a haunted one. Deciding to test your luck, you move to get out of bed. Unable to take it any longer, needing to start getting answers before you completely lose your mind. 

“If you’re going to try and sneak out, you should just be aware that my horse doesn’t take kindly to strangers...and I don’t think you want to take another fall like you just had,” Hyunjin speaks calmly, without turning to you though. Only adding to your confusion as you wonder how he picked up on your nearly silent movements.

“I’m not trying to leave........not yet anyways. I want answers first because I’m quite thoroughly confused right now...though I can’t make promises in regards to later.” You respond as you move closer. Hyunjin turns towards you with a slightly scolding look as he moves over to gently pull out a chair for you. 

“I promised you answers. You shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. You could make yourself worse.” Hyunjin tsks softly, his attitude whinier and brat-like though. Him showing you what you more so expected from the spoiled, dark prince.

“Well, I couldn’t rest without answers, so it seems what would be best for both of us would be if you just let me ask now.” You shrug, earning a soft sigh from Hyunjin, who mumbles some excuse about needing to cook, “I won’t interfere with that. Just let me ask, and you can take all the time you need to answer. It’ll put me at ease, though.”

Hyunjin glances over his shoulder at you for a moment, debating with himself before he turns to face you again. Snapping his fingers, the spoon he had been stirring the food with moves on its own now as he steps over. Leaning on the counter across from you and motioning for you to go ahead with your questions. 

“Why do you seem so familiar with this place? It doesn’t seem like the kind of place a prince would consider home...”You’re brows furrow as Hyunjin chuckles quietly, licking his lips.

“Well, as you might have noticed, princess. There are things I can do that humans can’t. Magic I hold, that your kind doesn’t. Just because I have it, though, doesn’t mean that I automatically know how to use it, though. I had to learn. I still have to learn and practice, I never did well in the group, however. I was too volatile.  So every year, I would be sent away to find a place alone to practice. It didn’t matter how long I was gone for as long as I didn’t come back before learning something. I stumbled across this place one year and decided after that to keep coming back here every time as I learned how to control my magic, I was able to make it a little homier.” Hyunjin explains, being what you considered oddly open about his past. Though you appreciated the fact that he was at least seeming genuine with you, despite not being sure what exactly to expect from him, “I’m guessing that’s not all you’re curious about?”

"No, I'm wondering why you're caring for me like this? The wedding isn't my choice after all, so why didn't you just drag me back? Why do you care?" Your question comes out soft-spoken yet bleeding with genuine curiosity, and Hyunjin hums.

"My intent was never to harm you. In fact, under other circumstances, I wouldn't be doing this to you either. I would have tried to get your attention in another way, princess. However, I'm sure you know we can not always do what we want in our positions. For the sake of my people, I will do what I must. I'm sorry if that, in turn, brings you more pain than it already has. I have no desire to be cruel, though." Hyunjin insists, gently reaching out to brush his thumb over your cheek before getting up to physically return to the cooking, "Here, it's done, you should eat before we talk anymore. It'll give you time to process what you've learned so you won't be overwhelmed."

You nod, appreciating the logic at least of what he says, knowing you would have more time while you recovered to question him about other things. Your body was weak from all that your body had faced throughout the day. Humming at the taste of the food, Hyunjin had made, it was already energizing you some and making you feel much better.

"We'll likely stay here at least two days to allow enough time to be sure that your head especially is okay before we start to travel." Hyunjin informs after you finished, moving to help you stand up again, leading you back towards the bedroom, "I'll let you take the bedroom while I'm down here."

"Let me guess if I need anything just call you?" You tease him lightly as you accept his help under the covers again. Having to hold back your giggles as you see his skin flush a light pink.

"Well as I said, I mean you no harm....and in other circumstances, I would have preferred to try and win over your heart instead of this," Hyunjin speaks the quietest he has all day, feeling shy at the admission. He's not impossibly shy, however, as he leans down to kiss your forehead as he tucks you in, "I hope to see you in the morning Y/N."

The way he says your name instead of calling you by a title tugs at your heart. Hearing the yearning in his voice, his feelings seeming genuine. The way Hyunjin was so caring and yet so considerate of your feelings thinking that his own was entirely one-sided, making your heart hurt for him. You're too tired tonight to try and bring him comfort, already drifting off into your world of exhaustion, not able to stay up in an attempt to sneak out even if you felt you needed to. After questioning Hyunjin some, you didn't see the need to try and escape from him. Not understanding the dangers that the others saw in him. His heart, seeming pure, even if the way he went about things wasn't always so innocent. His concern, showing through again the next morning.  When you woke to him bringing you breakfast in bed, helping you to sit up. You watched curiously as he silently left you to eat alone, you taking the privacy to clean yourself up a little as well. Hyunjin is back in the room when you step out of the bathroom again, looking up at you with wide eyes looking over you like he’s checking if you’re okay. 

“I’m fine Hyunjin, nothing to worry about.” You try to reassure him with a small smile, him returning it with a tender smile of his own. He offers you his hand, guiding you to sit on the bed as he stands to bring the medical supplies over beside you.

“I’m going to clean up your head again and just make sure it’s okay,” Hyunjin explains as he reaches out to delicately undo the bandaging he’d put on the night before, not wanting to hurt you or anything. He tries to make quick work of cleaning and rebandaging it. The bandage was already smaller than the day before. His hands shake slightly, though, feeling an odd type of nervous knowing your gaze was on his face the whole time.

“Hyunjin? Do you love me?” You finally find yourself asking the question that’s haunted you since he started to care for you. Hyunjin’s skin flushing brightly at the question blinking at you in shock at the bluntness.

“S-Something like that yes, t-though I know it’s not what you want, princess.” His words are joined with that longing stare once again. His hand, reaching out to brush your hair behind your ear. The sad smile on his face was replaced with surprise as you grab his hand softly in yours before his touch could fade entirely.

“Who says?” You inquire softly, looking into his eyes without hesitation and using your grip to gently tug him closer until you can press your lips to his. Your arms, slipping around his neck to prevent him from running away from the kiss and you.

Hyunjin is stunned for a moment, entirely frozen as he processes what is happening before he returns your kiss. Soon, taking over as he puts more force into the kiss, letting his longing take over, controlling his actions. He nibbles on your lower lip slightly when he finally pulls away, looking at you with darkened eyes as his arms slip around to cradle you and gently lay you back, mindful of your injuries.

“And you were still going to leave me anyway?” He growls lightly, not letting you answer before his mouth is on yours again. His actions fueled by just a hint of anger, “Knew you were a spoiled, fucking brat, princess.”

You feel the shift in the air, dominance shifting to Hyunjin, who looks down at you with a darkened gaze. A smirk adorning his face as you squirm slightly beneath him, flustering as heat rises to your cheeks. His actions are not what you would have expected out of him after the way he had been acting the last 24 hours, but you weren't going to complain about them either.

“In a way, you are lucky you’re hurt doll, means I’ll go easy on you tonight. Of course, you’ll still be punished, considering you made me think you didn’t care about me, and you ran away.” Hyunjin tsks as his tone and touch teases you, running the faintest trail over your sides, “What will I do with you, pretty girl?” 

“You talk like you aren’t a spoiled brat yourself.” You remark back, grinning up at him in response. Your inner brat proud of the fact that you showed no hesitance in your response, despite his heated stare, “Maybe I should be the one punishing you right now, little prince~”

You watch Hyunjin visibly bristle at your condescending tone, hand smacking your clothed thigh just enough to give a slight sting, before he’s gripping them tightly, “That’s cute, you thinking that pretty, little mouth of yours can get away with saying whatever. We both know that even if I gave you control, though, you would have no idea what to do with it, princess.” 

Hyunjin’s fingers dance over your inner thighs before gripping at the hem of the shirt you were wearing. He pushed it up slowly, much like he had when looking over your injuries, though this time, his fingers brushed delicately over your skin as he did. Pulling it off entirely and letting you do the same with his before picking up on your smug expression again and raising a brow.

“You say that like you’re in control right now.” You mock him as his gentle nature shows through again, baiting him into doing worse if he dared, “Please, little prince, we both know you are too soft to actually do anything to me.”

Hyunjin hums, licking his lips as he eyes your form, “Maybe, you are right, princess.” He leans down to kiss over the expanse of your neck, gently until reaching your collarbone, where he bites down. Sucking and kissing over to leave a blooming mark and make you moan, squirming beneath him, “ But then again...maybe you’re wrong.”

You mew, feeling heat pool in your gut, you know Hyunjin would easily pick up on that if he looks at your panties. He is in no rush currently, though, leaving a trail of marks leading towards your cleavage, letting your arousal build over time. Willing to take as much time as it takes to see you finally snap, wanting you to fold and beg for him. You expect him to take your bra off next with how he teases marks along the hem of it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he chooses to move lower, creating marks leading down to the hem of the pants you’re wearing. His fingers, working to undo the tie on them, while his mouth works to distract you. Only, letting register what he had done when he was already tugging them down your legs, spreading them and exposing your soiled panties, only making him lick his lips in anticipation. He would have to wait for that still, as your resolve stayed strong yet. Something Hyunjin was not having any part of as he kissed your thigh, trailing marks lower, until he left one last fleeting kiss to your ankle before working his way up the other leg, never speeding up his actions. He knew it was a waiting game, a matter of whose patience would give out, and he was determined to win. After all, he had been a patient man thus far, holding back the whole time his feelings grew he could wait a little longer if it meant getting what he wanted. You, on the other hand, weren’t prepared to endure this level of teasing, ignorant to the possibility of the events currently unfolding before today. 

Hyunjin practically beamed against your inner thigh, locking eyes with you when he heard your soft restless huff, “You seem eager, princess. You know you could get what you want. Well, if you start acting like a good girl.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare at his mockery, still not learning your lesson. Still finding his tactics too soft to tame your brat, she was masochist after all. “Why don’t you fucking make me then? If you even can.” 

Hyunjin seems surprisingly calm at your remark this time, climbing over your form and slipping a hand around to unclasp your bra as soon as it’s off, an invisible force pulls your hands up towards the bed frame, securing them there. “You talk a lot of crap for someone whose panties have been soaked this whole time, princess. Your mouth might say one thing, but your body says another.”

"Fuck you, Hyunjin." You hiss, glare sharpening, and yet it still doesn't faze Hyunjin in the least. If anything, it makes him chuckle, finding it cute that you think you are going to be able to intimidate him.

"Oh, you could, sweetheart, if you would only cooperate." Hyunjin flicks his tongue over your nipple, loving how you gasp and wiggle again. What doesn't make him so pleased is when you start trying to squirm away so that he would not have so much control over you, wanting to hold out longer. Hyunjin, nipping at your bud with a warning growl of your name, making you shudder at the promise the rasp of it held. Your body, submitting on its own and letting the man tease your breasts, taking his time as he alternates between them much as he had done with the rest of your body.

"All you are is a tease, Hyunjin. A tease playing like he's a firm hand-" Your quip gets cut off by his hand slapping down against your clothed pussy without any warning.

"You think I'm playing princess? No. I simply know your game. You enjoy being punished. You like the pain...which is why you won't get that. Not unless you beg for it just like anything else you want from me, even if I have to tease you all night for that to happen." Hyunjin shrugs before moving between your legs to lick over the wet patch, moaning against your panties at the taste. Just a hint of the feeling passing through and letting your mind race with all the possibilities of what could happen if you just gave in already, the fact that he wouldn't even punish you the way you wanted without a beg driving you mad.

"Fine, fine, you win Hyunjin. Just stop with all the goddamn teasing already." You whimper, hips lifting slightly, and Hyunjin dares to laugh at your desperation. Hooking his fingers on your panties to drag them down and flick his tongue over your clit before circling it relentlessly.

"I don't know, princess. It didn't seem to me like you meant that. Why don't you try again? And this time, try to be a tad more convincing little girl." Hyunjin nips at your most sensitive parts, making you mewl again at finally another twinge of painful pleasure.

"I'm begging, aren't I Hyunjin? This is what you wanted, isn't it? For me to beg for you? Well, now that I am. So can't you just fucking ruin me?" You almost wish you could smack him as he pulls away, but the next second you are sighing in relief as you're flipped onto your knees, ass on display for him. Hyunjin's hands move to knead the flesh, almost aggressively despite not even being the part intending to bring you pain.

"Oh, I'll ruin so much princess, you won't be the only thing, though. No. I intend to fuck you so well that even if you go to another man, you'll think about me and how good I was instead. I intend to fuck you so well that you crave me the same way I've craved having you like this for so long now." Hyunjin emphasizes his words with the first smack to your backside, "Though if that doesn't happen tonight, then I guess I'll just have to try again and again until it does."

Your body is practically buzzing with anticipation at this point after such a long build-up, unable to do anything but moan as Hyunjin finally gives in, delivering blow after delicious blow to your ass. Increasing the strength behind them as he sees you can take more and loving how color blooms across your skin, the flesh bruising in beautiful marks that you'll be sure to feel for days after. His touch, leaving your ass to collect the wetness that’s seeping down the plush of your thighs, before lightly patting your pussy and watching how you clench around nothing with a dark chuckle and another hard spank.

“What’s this? Are you going to cum around nothing? After acting like I couldn’t even do anything? Tsk, are you really that pathetic princess?” Hyunjin acts disappointed, but the way his cock throbs in his pants tells an entirely different story, “Go on then, tell me how unaffected you are with that bratty little mouth while your body tells me the truth. While this little pussy tells me how slutty you are, begging me to fuck you until you can’t say anything other than my name.” 

Hyunjin gives you that final push you need to go over the edge by slapping your pussy, watching how it pulses for a moment before two fingers find your clit, and ride you through your high. His skilled fingers, not letting up even after your orgasm has run its course. Your attempts to squirm away mean nothing as more invisible ties lock around your form, holding you in place to take all that Hyunjin is giving you. Hyunjin’s curls two fingers into you, searching for the spot that would have you quaking beneath him, wanting to make you fall apart over and over because of what he can do to you. His plump lips, leaning down to press against your spine, not even willing to leave that part of you unmarked, his fingers drilling into you relentless against your most sensitive spots as soon as he found them. His hand, weaving into your hair to pull your face up, out of the mattress, freeing your sounds.

“Don’t you try to hide from me, princess. You wanted to run that smart mouth of yours, so now you’re going to show just how wrong you were with every perfect fucking sound you make, whether it be from your lips or your cunt.” Hyunjin’s own impatience showed in the form of his bulge, pressed against your prettied ass, grinding in time with the thrusts of his fingers, egging you on, “Do you think you will have earned this cock once you’ve cum on my fingers, princess? Be honest?”

“I-I’ve earned it whenever you say I have, b-but I want it so bad...p-please Hyunjin.” Your words show how much you have really slipped into a submissive role for him. Hyunjin’s ego growing at your words, loving every second of them.

“You sound so pretty whining my name like that little girl.” Hyunjin slips in soft praise as a result of your obedience, “Go on then princess, earn it. Fucking cum for me again, make a mess of my fingers just like you would my dick.”

His words only further tightening the knot in your stomach until it snaps, making you tremble beneath him with each scorching wave of pleasure. It, numbing you to the point where all you knew for a few moments, was Hyunjin’s fingers thrusting into your, riding you through the intense feeling. Feeling as if the bonds have loosened, Hyunjin laying you onto your back again, brushing away tears you didn’t even know were there and giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

“You alright?” He questions, caring side returning as he places a sweet yet fleeting kiss to your lips, looking over your face carefully.

“Hyunjin I did not spend all that time begging for you not to fuck me now, if it’s too much I’ll tell you. Otherwise, you better get the fuck on with it before I actually lose it.” You insist, already gently tugging him between your spread legs. Barely giving him enough time to free his cock, before trying to get him inside of you. Only then do you feel the binds slipping around your thighs to hold you still and open for him while he fully removes his clothes and teases your entrance with his tip for a moment before pushing in. His arms on either side of you, watching as your face scrunches with pleasure and relief as he stretches you open. Hyunjin, groaning softly, when he bottoms out, feeling you tight around him. You take advantage of the fact that your hands are free, seeing Hyunjin’s dark locks fall over his face, to push them away, and let you see his face as well. Feeling you tug at his hair, pulling him closer, he kisses you while giving a quick, hard thrust to tease you while swallowing your pretty little noises. Hyunjin, biting down on your bottom lip and tugging it as he pulls away, giving slower, shallow thrusts.

“Look at you, princess. You can’t stay still. Is it just too much for you to handle? Or is it not enough?” Hyunjin muses, knowing you want him to pound into you, and that you would try to take control if you could move more freely, he lets you tug at his hair though, keeping the tidbit of control you did have, making him bare his neck to you so you can leave matching marks on him. That is all you could do anyways, too far gone to answer, not that you would know what to say anyway, seeing as how it was somehow both too much and too little. All of your senses lit with bright licks of flaming pleasure, while deep down, you wanted to fuel them even more at a quicker pace.

“Just be a good girl with your words one last time, princess, and I promise I’ll give you everything baby.” Hyunjin’s fingers skim over the trail of marks he left behind before rubbing circles onto your clit. Letting each movement bring you enough pleasure to make your head spin, but still not enough to give you the relief you thirsted for. 

Your fingers weave through his hair, tugging again, “Hyunjin, I’m giving you all of me, so take it already, please. You already have me falling apart from barely anything, so show me the worst you can do.”

Hyunjin chuckles, placing a kiss on your jaw before picking up the pace. Holding nothing back down as he gave in to the desires both of you had, letting pleasure overtake you both. “Oh, I will, princess. You’re in for a long night.”

You had expected to wake up besides Hyunjin the next morning, after falling asleep in his arms the night before. Something seemed off though when you fully registered what was going on the next morning, and finding an empty bed and the surrounding area eerily quiet, slipping a shirt on to quietly peek out of the room to see if Hyunjin was simply cooking breakfast again, which he was. That wasn’t all you noticed, though, a glass orb placed delicately on the counter by Hyunjin and swirling with colors as Hyunjin spoke to it. 

“No, I’m not letting my feelings get the better of me. No matter what my feelings are for the princess, I know what the most important thing here is.” Hyunjin huffs at the little glass piece, your heart sinking as you realize he’s talking about you.

“So she has the map then? You can bring both her and it back so we can finally get on with this?” A woman’s voice echo’s through, making your eyes widen, though there is no face to make out and let you see who it could be.

“She doesn’t, but we need her either way. Besides, the ones with the map will come back for her as soon as they realize I have her again, let them come to us instead of wasting our time searching every hiding spot for them.” Hyunjin shrugs, tasting the food, still unaware of your listening in from the bedroom doorway, only barely peeking out so that you could hide again if necessary.

“Very well, just don’t let your heart jeopardize this after all we’ve done and given up. More than a crush or not, if she gets in the way and you won’t deal with it...then I will.” The woman speaks one last time before the orb stops going. You take that as your cue to slip back into the bedroom. 

Sure, Hyunjin’s feelings for you were apparently genuine, or at the least for the princess form of you. That didn’t make this acceptable, though. He was obviously up to something now, and there was no way around it, and he was willing to use you to lure Chan and Felix right back in and give him what he wanted. That being something that you simply could not allow. You scour through the clothes in the cabin, finding something you can move freely in, before slowly creaking the window open to look outside. You step away to sneak another look at Hyunjin to ensure that he was still occupied with food. Before carefully climbing out the window and closing it behind you. Sneaking off into the woods, worried first about being quiet and not giving yourself away before just bolting. Not entirely sure how you’d find Chan and Felix, but knowing that you certainly couldn’t do it if Hyunjin caught you again. The dazzling blue light, appearing for a third time now. Twirling around you before leading the way off until reaching a small stream and disappearing, leaving you to look around curiously until it flashes before your eyes again and turning into a person, not just any person though...you’d finally found Jisung.

zombies ate my neighbour (and turned into mince meat)

Title: zombies ate my neighbour (and turned into mince meat) Author: Shiro (TeitoxAkashi [AO3]/ seijuurouxryuu [tumblr]) Rating: T Pairing: Hibari Kyouya/Sawada Tsunayoshi/Yamamoto Takeshi Event: @khrrarepairweek Prompts: Zombie Apocalypse AU | Accidental Kidnapping Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning, Major Character Death, No Archive Warning

Day 2: Sky Day

06/05/2943

It was his birthday yesterday, the skylark who took over control of Namimori. He was interesting. His first reaction was not to hoard food, but to start a one-sided slaughter with the undead. He then ordered his men to put up fences around Namimori boarder, closing off the small town. He cleaned up the remains and burnt the undead.

Some, though, he kept caged in his compound.

AO3

13/04/2943

 The sky suddenly turned red. It was not a gradual change, no, the redness came all of the sudden when the sun was still shining brightly. News was all about dooms day and judgement day and blah. Annoying.

 18/04/2943

 The sky remained red. Even when the sun sets, the sky was still red. No one knows why, all the scientists were scrambling to find the reasons and consequences of no night but they failed to discover something huge.

 There were more rotting corpses on the street.

 25/04/2943

 They finally noticed; it wasn't dooms day but close. It was a zombie apocalypse, like those in the movies and fictions. Food and clean water ran low, none of the grass or trees or plants can be eaten because they had mutated. Even the animals were starting to mutate.

 People were dying faster than zombies could kill them.

 How ironic.

 06/05/2943

 It was his birthday yesterday, the skylark who took over control of Namimori. He was interesting. His first reaction was not to hoard food, but to start a one-sided slaughter with the undead. He then ordered his men to put up fences around Namimori boarder, closing off the small town. He cleaned up the remains and burnt the undead.

 Some, though, he kept caged in his compound.

 07/07/2943

 Hibari Kyouya. He finally cleared Namimori of zombies after almost two months. He organized food rationing, set up teams of guards for the boarder and people in charge of raiding food from nearby town. Some outsiders would find their way to the boarders and pled for entry, but Hibari accepted only those who were once from Namimori and young children or old people. The rest that are well and able were barred from entry.

 It wasn't a surprise, honestly. Hibari owned and loved Namimori. He wouldn't let anyone who is not Namimori in and sabotage the peace. He was kind enough still to accept those who cannot sustain themselves in such trying times. "Those herbivores could not even fight against a tiny zombie animal, much less a zombie. I'd rather they not add to the number." He had said.

 I think he was kinder than he let on.

 28/07/2943

 I got accepted into the youth team for zombie virus research. Hibari had established a team of researchers from a group of doctors. Their main task was to make use of the captured zombies Hibari had in his compound to find a cure--either to completely vaccinate everyone from the virus that spreads by bites or scratches from a zombie, or to reverse engineer and turn those zombies back to human. Honestly, the latter sound absurd. Even the adults said so, but Hibari was adamant that they figure out a way.

 A week into the research, none of the doctors or scientists managed to find something; all these old fogies were too scared to approach the zombies even with Hibari watching close, even with them held down. Hibari almost killed them in annoyance instead if not for the fact he still needed their brains. That was why the Youth team was established. Because apparently the younger generations were braver.

 More like they couldn't send those around them as cannon fodders, so they decided to push for kids being the cannon fodders. Cowards, all of them. Fucking cowards.

 Hibari, of course, knew their plan but he allowed the setup of a Youth team anyway. He had said: "Whoever takes the sample can use it on their own or with their team--no sharing of samples outside of the team. You old herbivores may be smart, but if you don't suck it up anytime soon I will deal with your old bones faster than a zombie can."

 In my opinion, that was the hottest shit I've ever heard in my whole life.

 16/08/2943

 The main researchers were all scared shitless by Hibari's threat so they finally took the samples themselves. The Youth team did too. We both use the samples separately, but every day we would gather together with the adults to discuss our findings. I honestly didn't know why Hibari allowed the Youth to participate separately because honestly, the oldest of us is only 24 and had not even graduated from university. None of us were anymore knowledgeable than one another, much less the main team researchers.

 But Irie-senpai said it was because those old fogies were too stuck up in their old ideas that Hibari wanted more innovative brains to speed up the process. He also said with just those old bones, the world would have been annihilated way before they can figure out the cure.

 I guess there were some truths in that.

 Still, there were not much progress. Outside of Namimori, the zombie virus was still spreading. Hunters would go out and capture one or two back for us to check and to our horror, the zombie virus mutates from one person to another. It was practically impossible to find a permanent vaccine.

 But we had to do it.

 Otherwise Hibari would have our heads before the zombies did. That who-shall-not-be-named was an example.

 31/08/2943

 It was my turn to get another sample from Hibari's compound. There were around 20 that was kept, but out of the 20, 4 was permanent, and one of them was separately kept inside the house--the one no one has seen before. Even if the other 3 were rarely used to provide samples, that one particular zombie was never used.

 I was curious and asked Kusakabe, Hibari's right hand, and gotten an answer that confuses me.

 "That's Kyou-san's. No one else can touch."

 I mean, don't all of these zombies technically belong to Hibari?

 I didn't pry further though.

 18/09/2943

 I was collecting samples again when Hibari came back from his trip out of the boarders. He was as usual uninjured despite the blood and gore that stuck to his jacket. What surprised me was that he was carrying an unconscious boy in his arms when he walked into the compound. He was holding him tightly, yet the gentleness in his grip was not unseen. There was a clean blanket around the boy too, bundling him up into a burrito until only his head was seen--brown and fluffy.

 Without even blinking, he gestured at his followers and tilted his head at yet another group of new zombies. "Take those samples today." He said lowly, as though to not wake up the unconscious boy.

 I could only nod mutely as he swiftly turned and walked into the house.

 ... Did Hibari just kidnapped a boy from outside?

 21/09/2943

 We might have a new lead with the new group of zombies Hibari brought back. I can't write much though. Not because of anything but I just don't want to jinx it.

 Still, who was that boy?

 27/09/2943

 As it turned out, the boy--or young man--was not kidnapped. He was originally from Namimori as well and was out of boarders when the apocalypse happened. He had only just managed to find a way to contact Hibari and Hibari went to fetch him. Simple as that.

 Was what he said.

 It didn't look simple to me. Sawada--that guy--told me that he and Hibari used to be from the same school and Hibari had helped him a lot of times. They were friends, he said. I think their relationship is more than that, but with how convinced Sawada was, I didn't tell him my conjecture. Not that I could anyway with how Hibari stared daggers at me when I chatted with Sawada.

 How did I meet him?

 Well, as it turned out, the breakthrough we had the other day was a success, so Irie-senpai brought me and a few others to Hibari. Oh, Irie-senpai was their friends too, apparently, so he wasn't surprised seeing Sawada.

After the discussion and greenlight from Hibari to proceed with the rest of the research, Sawada and Irie-senpai started chatting. Somehow, Irie-senpai introduced me and the other Youth members to him, and somehow, Sawada started chatting with me more.

 I think he was bored with Hibari's constant silence.

 I merely listened though as he and Irie-senpai recounted their past.

 "Look, I didn't plan to go out of Namimori at that time. If it weren't for my uncle's insistence that I go visit him I'd rather stay here and possibly get bitten to death by a zombie." Sawada said. I don't think he was bored with Hibari's silence at all now.

 Irie-senpai laughed. "By a zombie, or him?"

 Sawada flushed red. How interesting...

 "Shut up, Shoichi."

 Hibari looked smug at the back.

 10/10/2944

 It took us more than a year, but we succeeded in creating the cure, much to the main research team's anger. We did share the findings with them, but those stuck-up old cows were adamant that what we did and the direction we were looking at was wrong. Now that we created the solution, they couldn't speak anymore.

 Our next stage was testing; Irie-senpai said we have to try on the old zombies Hibari has, but unfortunately most of them disintegrated a few months before. Those that are still 'alive' were the 4 that Hibari kept properly.

 Hibari did not approve the testing on them and argued a long time with Irie-senpai.

 While they were having a sort of 'shouting' contest in the courtyard--honestly, I think Hibari did not bite Irie-senpai to death solely because he was the leading the research--I was having tea with Sawada.

 Sawada didn't even look exasperated by their argument. Curious, I couldn't help but ask: "Why wouldn't Hibari-san allow us to test on those zombies?"

Sawada was dazed by the question. He suddenly looked down and smiled sadly. "Well.... Those four are our... Friends. Family. We... Well, the thing is, Hibari and I all hope for a cure to return them back to normal. They didn't exactly die, you know? They were bitten while alive, which suggest that they are still alive. We can feel that they're alive too, in fact, which is why... Hibari and I are waiting for the day to see them come back. Especially..." His eyes dimmed as he peered over to one particular zombie--the one Hibari kept carefully the most.

 He quickly shook his head and continued, "I think Shoichi don't even want to test on them, but he had no choice because the newest batch of zombies might have yet another mutation that renders the whole thing useless. Only with the old batch he could tell whether we're all on the exact right track... But none of us wanted to test on them when everything is so uncertain now, especially during the preliminary testing where we don't even know the side effects..."

 I seemed to have pieced something together.

 I said nothing and quietly nodded.

 23/02/2945

 As it turned out, mutation rendered the whole thing unsuccessful, yes. But from the old zombies--not Hibari's four--we somehow managed to find, we were all on the right track. But now, we have to tackle the mutation and make a protein that can target the unchanging amino acids of made from the virus. It's all complicated stuff; I'd probably write a whole book about it if I do so I'll spare you, and my hands, from the details.

 Interestingly, Sawada liked to chat with me whenever I go to Hibari's place for either more samples or discussion with Irie-senpai. I don't know why, maybe because I looked approachable? Who knows? Anyways, from him, I finally got to know who exactly the four zombies were.

 The smallest zombie was Chrome Dokuro, Sawada's adopted sister when she was abandoned by her parents from a car accident. She died in the hospital when the zombie outbreak happened, and Sawada was actually relieved that she turned into a zombie at that time because she was going to die soon from multiple organ failures. He said that once she was cured from the virus, he was going to transplant all the organs he found for her--that was the reason why he left Namimori back then to find his uncle. I suspected that he has connection with the Yakuza or black market, but that was beside the point.

 The next one was Sasagawa Ryohei. I knew him too--the brother of Sasagawa Kyouko. She is alive of course, just working in the food rationing team (She and Miura Haru were very scary if you jump queue during food distribution). Apparently, she was Sawada's schoolmate as well, and friend. The more you know. Anyways, Sasagawa Ryohei was Hibari's classmate at one point, and he had taught Sawada boxing once. They became friends after even though Sawada failed terribly at boxing--what he said.

 The third one was Gokudera Hayato. He was actually not from Namimori, but he was Sawada's childhood friend. He was a half-Italian who lived in Italy. He had transferred to Namimori Middle School years back because he was fed up with his family (TMI much, Sawada?) and wanted to be closer to Sawada, so he came with Sawada's uncle, who was by the name of Reborn. (I've met him ONE (1) time and I would NOT want to again.) He was bitten by a zombie when he was trying to protect Sawada's adoptive brother and sister (just how many siblings does Sawada have?) and got turned. Hibari brought him back before he bit anyone else and locked him up along with Sasagawa and Chrome.

 The last one, and probably the most cherished by Hibari (Sawada cherished all four of them but even I could tell he was saddest when facing this one), was Yamamoto Takeshi. I was surprised, because he was our resident baseball star. Before the apocalypse happened, he was the talk of the town because he was offered into the national baseball team. Sawada said Yamamoto was his childhood friend as well--and apparently Hibari's too--and he was bitten by his father Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, who changed while trying to protect him. Tsuyoshi-san unfortunately was killed and burned by a stranger who tried to help Yamamoto, who did not want to attack his father.

 Hibari had almost killed that stranger for burning Tsuyoshi-san if it were not for the fact the stranger had tried to save Yamamoto. But still, Yamamoto was bitten and had turned into a zombie. All Hibari could do was bring him back and cage him up just like how he did with the other three.

 Sawada looked very sorrowful when he retold everything.

 All I could do is pat his shoulders and console him that the research teams are trying our very best to help.

 And I am, trying my very best. I want to see them smile, honestly.

 16/01/2947

 Sorry, I hadn't had any time to write. It has been... 2 years, huh, since my last entry. I was far too busy--everyone was.

 The sky had darkened further in red, the rain started coming down red, even the sun and moon turned red. Everyone could tell that the zombie apocalypse is worsening. Us research teams were even more aware.

 After we found the cure, we immediately started tackling all and every mutation. We finally pinpointed a particular protein made by the virus RNA that is present in every mutation; it was the protein that changed the structure of a human's cells into 'undead' dead cells. It's like, some microorganisms can't survive in very cold temperature and would lay dormant but once the temperature rises it would wake up and start working.

 Those 'undead' dead cells are the same. In this zombie stage, they are like those frozen microorganisms. Irie-senpai said if we can kill or render the protein unusable, we might be able to revert those cells back to living cells. The zombies can then be reverted back to humans.

 First ten testing did not work. The eleventh test, the zombie's cells turned to normal cells but it remained in coma. The twentieth test, the zombie woke up as human once again.

 After two hundred tests and a year of observation, we finally confirmed that it is successful.

 The first person who received the cure serum was Yamamoto Takeshi.

 He woke up 10 days after the jab and I saw Hibari cry silently at the side while Sawada grabbed Yamamoto sobbing.

 They both smiled.

 05/05/2950

 We spread our findings and information worldwide--now no one is killing zombies but capturing them to be taken back to the lab for revival. In another 2 years’ time, I doubt there'll be anymore two legged zombies.

 The sky was still red, everything was still red, but the progression of the redness seemed to have stopped three years ago. It was good news. Now, everyone is targeting how to reverse engineer the mutations of nature. It was the hardest part, but it was alright, I believe that we can manage it.

 After all, did we not succeeded in bringing back humanity?

 Cough. Let's not talk about this.

 It's Hibari's birthday. He had wanted a quiet birthday with Yamamoto and Sawada, apparently, but both of them wouldn't let him have it and organized a party with everyone they know. They even invited me under the reason that I've helped them so much all these years. I wonder if they truly thought so, and not because they wanted someone sane to watch over them?

 So, it was a party. A wild one. One that would end with Hibari biting everyone to death, but he didn't. I guess he missed the chaos during the silence he lived in when the apocalypse started. He tolerated all of us.

 The highlight of the party was probably this:

 Yamamoto actually proposed to the both of them. Sawada broke down crying while Hibari.exe actually broke. Hibari had frozen in spot for so long everyone suspected his soul had ran away. Until, of course, Yamamoto pulled him into a long kiss that ended up being a three way make-out with everyone whistling and jeering.

 "Get a room!" I seconded that notion, Gokudera.

 They didn't actually get a room of course; the party must go on with the protagonists. But it was a great party. Everyone was so happy.

 I feel so happy for them.

 Well, I'm very tired now after hauling all the drunks back home, so I'm going to pen off. I'm not sure when I'll write again, but yeah, see you soon.

 Signing off,

S.

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

A/N:  A SPECIAL THANKS TO KHR RAREPAIR DISCORD PEEPS FOR THE TITLE thenkew morcai senpai :3 <3

Hehehehhehehhe I loved writing this day entry the most. Maybe because its easier for me to write??

I'm finally free from the clutches of studying!!!!!!!!!!! Can finally post and write stuffs hngh.

Hope yall had fun with reading this!

[I apologize for any grammar, spelling, etc. etc. mistakes]

Hello! How would it play out (in the same timeline as your three part story) if Tony had to eat Peter again, but this time, had to act like it was dangerous in order to protect him?

Oh what an angsty idea!  Thank you for this!  The greatest struggle of a vore writer is figuring out “when the heck would they even need to do that?” but I think I have a decent explanation, hopefully this is what you meant.

Naturally this is still safe vore, but as the ask says, there’s a lot of talk about unsafe vore, as well as an evil character threatening it, so if you’re very squeamish about that, take care.  As always, not St*rker

Tony’s head ached. That was the first thing he registered. The second thing was that he was lying on a cold concrete floor, surrounded by concrete walls and a concrete ceiling, a cell of some kind. The third was that he was alone.

He couldn’t remember what had happened or how he’d gotten here, but he knew he’d been with Peter. At least he was fairly sure. Now Peter was nowhere to be seen. Tony flexed his stomach, just to check if he’d tucked him away without remembering it, but there was no Peter there either.

That could mean a number of things, and he told himself not to panic yet.  It was possible that his memory was wrong and Peter hadn’t actually been with him at all.  Or he could have escaped and might be planning a rescue. There was a good possibility that whoever had kidnapped them didn’t want them scheming together about how to escape, and was simply holding them separately, too.

Or Peter could be dead, but Tony instructed himself strictly not to go there.

He looked up quickly when the door opened, and his heart lurched. Two men, armed with guns, flanking a taller man with graying blond hair came into the room.  He recognized them.  It would be hard not to, after the narrow escape he and Peter had had before.

The blond man held a jar, with a tiny figure huddled inside.   They were still all the way across the room, but there was only one person it could be.

“Hello Stark,” said the man with the jar, and he came close, close enough for Tony to see Peter, who had scrambled up and pressed against the glass like he could force his way through. “I believe I have something of yours.”

He had to be careful now. Show too much attachment, and they would surely use Peter against him even more. Show too little, and they might decide he was useless to their cause and get rid of him. Tony said nothing, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Peter’s scared face.

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen the boy with you before. I know you work together.”

“We do,” Tony agreed. They could have that for free; it was no great secret anyway.

“I’m sure you remember when you escaped from us last month?”

Tony certainly did. They’d used a shrink ray on Peter then, too, and Tony had been so desperate not to allow him to be captured like that that he’d swallowed the kid whole. And now he had been captured like that anyway, just as Tony had feared.

“You’re lucky you got off so easily,” he said, forcing himself to look up from Peter. “People who try to kidnap me have a history of getting much worse.”

“I’m sure.” The blond man laughed. “But surely you won’t blow us up when I have this?” He gave the jar in his hand a little shake, and Peter lost his footing and stumbled.

“Ideally, no.” Tony watched Peter again, so tiny and vulnerable, and out of his reach. The kid had made it clear he had not enjoyed being eaten, despite knowing he was safe, but Tony wondered if he might want to be hidden now. Tony himself certainly did. “What’s the idea with having him so small,” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“I thought this little intern could serve as a visual aid,” said the man. “You see, there you are. Tony Stark, Iron Man, top of the world, and people like me—we look like this to you, don’t we?”

Tony knew to let him have his monologue, watching Peter in the jar he held up, trying to think.

“You eat up dreams, you eat up lives, and they’re nothing to you. Why should they be, when you’re the man at the top? One might say you’re top of the food chain.”

Under different circumstances, Tony would definitely have laughed at that choice of imagery, but when the person talking about eating people was a possibly-unhinged stranger holding a tiny Peter, dread settled into his heart.

“People like me, we’re just like him to you, aren’t we?” The man gave the jar another little shake. “Bite size.”

Tony stopped breathing.

“I’d certainly love to take the illustration one step further.”

He started to unscrew the jar, and Peter scrambled against the side.

“No!” Tony started forward—the only thing keeping him in place before had been he unspoken threat of harm to Peter if he moved, but now—

“Come any closer and I drop him.”

There it was. Tony froze.

“As I was saying...” the man tipped the opening of the jar over his hand, and Peter only just managed to stay inside.

“I get your point.” Tony clenched his hands at his sides to keep them from shaking. “No visual aid needed.”

“Just to be sure.” The man tried to get Peter out of the jar again.

“Stop!”

“Hmm.” Mercifully, the jar was turned upright again and the lid screwed back on. Peter curled up at the bottom, arms wrapped around his head like he could shield himself. “I’d hate for such a perfect snack to go to waste. Maybe you could help me prove my point instead.”

“I-“

“Catch.”

Tony reacted just in time to catch the jar and its tiny occupant, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. He withdrew against the wall, holding the glass with shaking hands.

“It’s me or you, Stark.”

Did he mean... Tony couldn’t believe their good fortune, but he made himself look horrified anyway.

“You would be more fitting, but I’d be happy to assist if for some reason you’re not willing.”

“What the hell do you think I am,” he snarled, practically vibrating with the need to do exactly what was asked of him.

“It’s nothing you haven’t done before. Just more literal this time.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll take him back, then.”

“No!” Tony clutched the jar to his chest, flinching when one of the other men pointed a gun at his head.

“I don’t think I made myself clear,” said the blond man. “You have three options. Eat the boy, give him to me, or die, and then I can eat him anyway.”

Tony was still. He had never wanted to swallow anyone more than he did right now, but he had a role to play. He was conflicted, after all, he was scared, there was no good option (ha!) and he needed to sell this more than he’d ever sold anything in his life, and he’d sold a lot of things. He looked at Peter in the jar and his scared face, and could only hope the kid was just playing along, too.

“Well?”

“He’s just a kid. Whatever you have against me, he’s got nothing to do with it.”

“That doesn’t sound like one of the choices I gave you.”

Tony made a great show of swallowing hard. “I can’t...”

“Then I’ll do it,” said the blond man, almost cheerfully, and now Tony really did feel sick. “Say your goodbyes.” He chuckled. “I doubt you’ll be one to mourn him for long.”

Peter’s mouth moved, saying what Tony guessed to be “Mr. Stark?”

“Wait.” He wrapped his hands around the jar as fully as possible. “Wait, I- he stays with me.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a very great comfort while you’re killing him.”

Tony said nothing. He wanted to get Peter out of the jar and gulp him down immediately, safe from anyone who wanted to hurt him, but the version of himself he was playing at the moment wouldn’t do that. He did tip Peter carefully out of the jar (he went readily) and hold him securely in his hands instead.

“You’re going to swallow him alive,” said the man. “More fun that way. If you try to put him out of his misery first, my man will shoot.”

If this was different...Tony tried not to think about that. Peter would be safe, so there was no need to think about what he’d do if he wasn’t.

“Don’t make me do this.” Please, please, hurry up and ‘make’ me do this.

“If you waste another ten seconds, he’ll be mine.”

“Kid…”

Peter was shaking in his hands. Surely he knew. He’d done this before, he had to know. Tony prayed his terrified expression was just him playing his own role. Playing it very well, too.

“Ten,” said the man, starting to count down.

“Mr. Stark?”

What would he say? What would he ever say, if this was real? Peter was staring at him, holding on tightly to his finger, his little chest heaving. (Please be acting, please be acting, please be acting.) Then he burst into tears. Tony’s heart sank.

...

Tony was a good actor. At least Peter hoped he was. Otherwise, he was so screwed.

It wasn’t hard to play along. Peter felt too small and helpless anyway, and he’d just had a complete stranger threaten to eat him multiple times. Unless there was something he didn’t know, he was about to be safe, but he was also about to be eaten anyway, and a little reassurance that the two weren’t mutually exclusive would be nice.

Experience told him he’d be fine. (Experience telling him he’d survive getting eaten, who’d have imagined it?) He’d done this before, after all, and been completely fine. He would have liked to hear it from Tony’s mouth himself, but surely, surely he’d be fine.

“Ten.” The blond man started counting down to when he’d take Peter away and then he wouldn’t be fine, and Tony just looked at him.

“Mr. Stark?”

Peter didn’t know what he wanted, besides Tony in general. He certainly didn’t want to be eaten by him, safe or not, but he definitely didn’t want the other man to get him, and he just—just—just started to cry, apparently. Great.

Tony smoothed his hair with the lightest fingertip, and that was good, that was nice, and then the blond man reached the end of his countdown and Peter shrieked as the world swooped and he was shut quickly inside Tony’s mouth.

That was gross. He’d forgotten how gross it was. It was even grosser when Tony’s tongue (dear God, he’d forgotten about that, too) moved under him, nudging gently at his chest, and maybe it was supposed to calm him down, but he just tried to hold it off. Tony thankfully got the hint and stopped.

Outside, they were demanding Tony swallow him, or they would shoot. His breath whooshed in the back of his throat, sometimes catching like he was going to cry, and he really was great at this acting stuff. Hopefully. Ninety-five percent certain. Maybe ninety.

Peter guessed he’d find out soon enough. At any rate, it was probably polite to make sure he went down (he shuddered) as easily as possible. He uncurled himself and stretched out, with his legs pointing toward Tony’s throat, and waited with his heart pounding fit to burst.

It happened all in a flash. He was squeezed against the roof of Tony’s mouth, a muscular ripple rolled over him, and his heart dropped into his toes. He twitched once, starting to fight, but he forced himself still again. It was Tony, and he was eighty-five percent sure that meant it was okay. And struggling wouldn’t save him anyway.

Everything around him lurched when Tony coughed, probably only slightly, but it was a massive sound to Peter. Before he had time to wonder if he’d hurt him somehow, an especially tight ring of muscle rolled over him and he tumbled into Tony’s stomach.

He’d forgotten just how gross this was, too, how slimy. He scrambled, completely disoriented in the pitch darkness and the slippery slime and the soft, yielding walls, fighting panic. (It was Tony, it was Tony, he was supposed to be safe here. Hopefully.)

“No!” Tony cried out, and Peter was thrown to the side with a sickening squelch. “No, you can’t!”

“Mr. Stark!”

He was struggling with someone, pleading with them, what were they doing to him? Peter was helpless.

Whatever was going on ended quickly, for better or for worse, and Peter tried to get his bearings again. Tony was coughing like he was going to throw up, but Peter stayed put. He hoped that was by design. Still, it sounded pretty painful, and he ventured to touch the wall of the stomach and just… pet it lightly. He couldn’t explain it, but it seemed like the thing to do.

“Are you okay?” he asked as soon as it was done.

Tony didn’t answer, probably still being watched.

“Mr. Stark? Cough once if you’re okay.”

Tony coughed, very deliberately, and Peter breathed again.

“I’m like, mostly sure, but I’m okay, too, right?”

Tony coughed again.

“Okay. That’s- that’s good.” Peter leaned against him. “I thought so, but I wanted to make sure, cause, you know.” 

He shivered a little. If this was different... well, it wasn’t.  Peter tried to put the thought out of his mind. He was safe. Tony wasn’t going to kill him, or have to know that was going on and be powerless to stop it, and-- Peter squished himself against the wall. It was Tony, and he was keeping him safe.

It felt strangely familiar. Tony’s heartbeat, his breathing, the warm softness that almost seemed to cradle him, slimy and disgusting as it was. Peter found himself relaxing slowly. It was scary to be this small, and it was nice to be held by someone he could trust, even in such a weird way.

Just like the first time he’d been here, it was almost nice, once he got over the fact that he’d been eaten alive. Everything around him was Tony, and in addition to being just… really weirdly awesome, it was a very safe feeling, being kept securely inside his mentor like this. He was also very much trapped here until Tony chose to release him, but that added to the feeling of safety too.

He smiled. No way was blond guy getting him now.

…

Peter knew. Thank God, he knew he was safe.

Tony curled up on his side, difficult now that they had tied his arms behind his back, but he was harder to observe this way. They were probably going to leave him alone for a while now, to think on his guilt and…well. Best not to think about what this could be.

Peter snuggled up to him, quite safe, and so trusting, too. Tony curled around him, even though he was already around him anyway, and held perfectly still to feel his every tiny movement. After some time, Peter went very still and relaxed, and Tony suspected with no small amount of awe that he might be asleep.

He made a point of breathing more slowly so as not to disturb him. All the while, his mind raced with half-formed plans of how they might escape again.

Eventually, Peter stirred, and squirmed a bit. “Mr. Stark?”

“Right here,” he murmured, too quietly for anyone who might be spying on them to hear.

“Just making sure.”

They both jumped when War Machine crashed through the ceiling.

“Left to Heritage”

Summary: A fight between her fairies and Griffin’s witches leaves Faragonda looking at the past in a desperate attempt to prevent losing someone else she cares about like the friends the war took from her. All she finds is pain, yet she can’t let go of the relationships burning her fingers with the impossible choices everyone bound by them has to make. Set after 1x05. Canon divergence.

I have been incredibly salty about the way the whole theft of the Ring of Solaria was handled on the show so you get this canon divergence in which Winx actually do the smart thing and tell Faragonda what the hell happened. How things play out from there is not necessarily better but definitely more emotional for Faragonda. Aka here is also something about the fallout between her and Griffin that was never explained on the show.

“If the ring isn’t returned, the Solarian court will issue an official demand to Cloud Tower for its retrieval.”

Bloom’s eyes had caught fire despite their aquatic shade. They’d burned like an ocean turned from water into flames and her tone had carried the assertiveness of a queen that Faragonda had only heard once before despite the numerous royal heirs Alfea had provided education to ever since she herself had been a student. So many born rulers and none had had the bearings of such natural authority, almost innate, as the Earth girl that had stumbled upon her powers by accident.

Faragonda had almost slipped into the past through the hole Bloom’s fiery stare had burned into her soul. She had to do it regardless of the searing pain of touching the edges she’d cut into herself to stop the spreading rot. She had to do it to look for more similarities, some tangible proof that she wasn’t grasping at straws to hang her hope by. It could be the universe answering her prayers with abysmal delay. Or it could be an illusion she’d trapped herself into when nothing could compare to the cruelty of the real world.

The surface of the oval mirror in her office rippled like she’d cast a stone in the stream of time and found the memory her five students shared now along with the trauma and crushing responsibility chasing royalty out there in the real world where Alfea’s walls were but a blissful fantasy of deceptive safety. The school had hardly protected its students back when she’d been one of them and things would only get more dire if she were right about the witches Cloud Tower was raising in the heart of its spiky structure that welcomed intruders to leave while they still could. It was not an empty threat.

The gloom hanging over her girls like an aura in the image in the mirror was yet more frighteningly precise proof of the truth she already knew. Stella was lying in her bed as if she’d been taken down by a plague she couldn't fight with Flora fretting over her, Musa tapping on her knees as she sat cross-legged on the floor like she was trying to hold a rhythm slipping away from her and Tecna sifting through a boatload of digital information less daunting than the emotional waves reality was rocked by.

Bloom was leaning over Stella like a guard, her fists clenched so hard that her knuckles had turned white as if the fire in her veins was trying to burn its way out of her body and eliminate the threat she’d had to succumb to. Faragonda had seen that instinctive determination right before another threat had been eliminated to take away with itself any remaining sparks of hope for the company left behind.

Flora straightened up like a flower reaching for the mercy of the light finally gracing it. “What if we tell Miss Faragonda?” she asked and just like that the grave silence was dispelled. And so was the self-absorbed focus that had swallowed Bloom to separate her from her friends. “She could help us get it back.”

“No!” Stella bolted up in bed as if to drop the reason that could save them from smashing their heads. “No one can know that I’ve lost the ring of Solaria,” her frantic voice was spilling out the worries of her heart in the trust in their friendship they’d forged with their lives and signed with their blood. “That I failed as a princess.” New tears welled in her eyes as if the soreness hadn’t bruised them with enough red already without the light of her magic to relieve the strain in them.

Faragonda would’ve wondered how the mirror did not crack from all the pain flowing from her to hit directly where her reflection would have been if the memory was not still playing like the room had witnessed it.

“You didn’t fail, Stel.” Bloom sat down on the bed, her hand on Stella’s shoulder as if to ground her concerns. Or to ground Bloom’s impulses in the warmth of her friend instead of that of the flames no doubt licking at her opened fists. “You were ready to defend it with your life.”

Faragonda had deduced that much even if they’d tried to steer her attention away from the specifics. Bloom had only relayed that Stella had been kidnapped to demonstrate the gravity of the situation but they’d tried to beat around the bush about any other details except for the fact that the witches had walked out of that confrontation with the ring of Solaria. And her girls had walked away with a Stella who was alive and intact, and eaten through by guilt she’d had ingrained in her along with her royal bearings and the responsibility for the ring on her finger to have its absence crush her more than its weight on her shoulders had.

“Bloom’s right,” the sound wave of Musa’s vehemence could have shattered the windows. Perhaps it had even carried the subconscious intention to rid her of the sounds stuck inside her – cries that were years old and other fresh ones from a few minutes ago. “You did everything you could. It was those witches that are guilty for everything,” she slammed her fists down on her knees to no other result than hitting herself as she kept her tantrum away from her magic.

“It was their third attempt at the ring that we know of,” Bloom’s words had everyone else nodding in support of her reassurance but it only had Faragonda pressing her palm against her mouth to keep it all in. Even if she couldn't stop herself from asking herself why she didn’t know what dangers were lurking for her girls out there. “They’ve been targeting you since Gardenia.” That much would have been a safe guess even for her despite the limited amount of information she’d had but she hadn’t wanted to make it before Bloom had confirmed it for her. It said too much about the determined claim both her fairies and Griffin’s witches had over the royal heirloom.

“It’s a powerful magical object,” Stella made the fact sound like the most biased opinion Faragonda had ever heard. Or maybe it was just the purpose of her words that made it so. “They’re not the first ones to want it. But they are the first ones to get it.” It wasn’t just her who was biased anymore, Faragonda’s own convictions rising from the ashes in her lungs almost like a phoenix with the only exception that they’d never died. “And it happened on my watch,” Stella cried out. “I’m the only Solarian royal that failed to protect it.” She buried her face in her hands, the lack of the ring on her finger startling not with her incompetence but with the competence of those who currently had it.

The low spirits of her girls were left in place of how much they’d put into the confrontation to be that drained from both energy and faith and they’d still lost regardless. She may have been one to be blinded by endless optimism when younger but after being sucked into a war and spat out with its teeth marks all over you, you learned to take pure power into consideration. And her girls had had a lot of determination to draw from which left their defeat sending familiar chills down her spine at the thought of the enemy.

Tecna put away the gadget she’d been tinkering with and the discomfort of the emotionality they were all drowning in to lend the others the logic they desperately needed, making Faragonda give the image in the mirror a proud smile despite her mixed feelings on its existence forced by necessity. “Getting the ring back is a priority over anything else, even covertness. And Miss Faragonda is our best bet on that,” she rationalized, the words reverberating through the rest like they shared a mind on top of the heartfelt bond they’d formed so quickly. “We can insist on it being done discreetly,” Tecna continued, finding her sensitivity as well to fit into the collective flawlessly, the way they gravitated towards each other pulling even Faragonda closer by the strings in her own heart it had touched. “After all, I doubt Miss Griffin will be thrilled with the imprint this crime will leave on Cloud Tower if it becomes public knowledge. It’s in everyone’s interest to keep this quiet.”

Faragonda could only hope every mentioned party would be as reasonable as Tecna had accounted for. She’d had the same belief in her friendship once that Tecna was putting into logic but she couldn’t bet on it anymore with all the walls in the way. It had come to that for her when certainty had been pulled out of her reach along with the warm hand that had held it and all she could do was hang on to the prospect that if she was right, Bloom would be able to count on her friends more than she could on her heritage, that there would be no walls Bloom would be left outside of again.

“Tecna’s right,” Musa pushed herself off the floor as if with a sonic blast but resolve was the only magic that lent her the speed and coordination to rise to her feet in one swift, graceful motion worthy of the dancer that the fairy of music was. “We can’t just sit around now that we’re all back together,” her hands were balled into fists as if to hold on to the presence of her friends once she didn’t need them to support herself. “We have to act. Unless we want to find out what they want with the ring the hard way.”

Stella nodded, a small smile barely tugging the corners of her lips upwards to meet the tears still rolling down her face. The inevitable sniffle that followed was enough to shake her whole body and disintegrate both the smile and the confidence.

Flora was quick to grab a tissue from the nearby box and offer it to Stella as she sat down on the bed next to her. “It will be okay, sweetie. You’ll see,” she put her hands on Stella’s shoulders to have Bloom let go of her so that Flora could draw her into her soothing softness while Stella bunched up the tissue in her fist instead of using it.

“I hope you’re right, Flora,” Stella whispered, turning to her in an attempt to nestle her tear-stained face into the crook of Flora’s neck and hide her weakness into the warmth of the nature fairy even if it weren’t the light of her own magic. “I can’t disappoint my father after he entrusted me the ring.” A sob shook them both alike as Flora held her, only gripping tighter at her despite the crease carved into her forehead and the glassiness of her eyes as they tried to mirror Stella’s and shed their water that only Flora’s will to put her friend’s comfort before her own held back.

Bloom caught Stella’s hand that was hanging limply at her side instead of having wrapped itself around Flora in search of more support. There was no need for her fingers to prob for it, however, as Bloom laced hers through them gently but firmly – in perfect contrast with the flames burning in her gaze with no cautiousness to rein them in, only fierce protectiveness to feed them.

The heat was tangible both through space and time to explain why Stella had flinched at Bloom’s warning about making the issue official and taking it to the appropriate authorities. Not only that, it was also familiar.

Faragonda had been defended with the same vehement warmth to the point of almost becoming collateral of it but despite the burning coldness of the hole left behind once it’d been gone, she had no definitive proof of Bloom’s origins. The ferocious protectiveness she’d known had come from two people, one of which undoubtedly had nothing to do with the fire in Bloom’s veins or the flaming color of her hair. It was the determined commitment of true friendship she’d seen in the girl and nothing more. Not without solid proof that the ring could give. She had to get it before someone got the confirmation of her suspicions first. If she was right, she had more duty towards Bloom than just that of a headmistress and Bloom had more burden to shoulder than the weak grip of Stella’s hand on hers in the absence of the ring.

She cut off the magical flow turning the mirror into a pool of memories instead of the solid reflective surface that it was and focused her magic into overcoming space this time. It wasn’t the spell or the physical distance she had to conquer–she had regular practice with that as she was still a constant presence on the Red Fountain invitation list for any and all events–but the emotional chasm that had opened between her and Griffin. It was just a few years old and it was already as deep as their friendship had ran in their souls.

A gasp almost tore from her at the weightlessness overwhelming her senses when she knew it would be gone faster than it had appeared. And indeed, the negative energy of Cloud Tower clung to her aura long before her atoms assembled themselves together again to leave her standing in Griffin’s office.

It hadn’t changed one bit in the days she hadn’t seen it–that had to be over one thousand at this point and more–and carried the spirit of the same frighteningly elegant professionalism and academic pursuit as well as overwhelming flair for the dramatic and inclination towards honoring history’s scariest and most threatening moments. The pointy edges and horned skulls were only the props for the powerful dark spells stored in the tomes lining the shelves that almost drew her eye to them in search of something that didn’t belong there. That would have swallowed her attention if not for the witch whose presence commanded every bit of the space – from the interior to the magic flowing in the walls through the veins of Cloud Tower.

Griffin hadn’t changed either, familiarity streaming from her almost deceptively. “Someone had better be dying,” she emphasized each word to compensate for the cold her gaze wasn’t piling on Faragonda as it remained on the book opened in front of her. Faragonda couldn't even tell if it was work or passion that she’d interrupted from the unnatural stillness clinging to the witch as she refused to move a muscle for her. “If not,” dramatic pause right on cue, “it will be your life on the line.” A ball of violet power formed in Griffin’s hand, the seriousness of the threat in no way undermined by the lack of attention to back it up.

“It’s really urgent,” Faragonda pushed the sounds through her teeth, almost choking on the shredded mass that came out as justification for her presence instead of the animated greeting that had once been the norm. She barely dared breathe in the room looming over her and threatening to bury her alive, her arms sticking to her sides to avoid alerting Griffin further. The witch had no desire to take her presence, much less the inconvenient news she’d deduced Faragonda was bearing.

“You should hope so.” The magic in her palm slowly faded, each change in the paling shade like a drop of water slipping from Faragonda to never come back and only assault her ears with the passing seconds. As if Griffin was giving her the time to adjust and begin on her squirming to fit the witch’s agenda. “Otherwise, you’ve wasted so much energy coming here for nothing,” Griffin looked up at last, slamming her book closed just as she locked eyes with Faragonda in a cheap intimidating technique that may have made her flinch back at their student days but those were long buried and it couldn't get even as far as the sound wave of it did.

There was an invisible force squeezing her heart like her ribs were made of foam and couldn't protect a diamond, not to mention something so fragile. It wouldn't be past Griffin to use one of the relatively harmless hexes–though, anything would be harmless compared to the forbidden magic Faragonda was on the lookout for–on which she’d just been refreshing her memory but she’d made it known after their fallout she wouldn't throw away her magic on revenge. The hexes could have been for an advanced class or for the personal vendettas on her list that Faragonda hadn’t been added to after Griffin had crossed off their friendship. She’d ended all contact between them, running school-related business through Saladin as if she’d erased from her mind any trace of the private language only the two of them spoke.

No curse could top that. A curse would require her to put some feelings in the casting, at the very least, to take an interest in the fact that Faragonda still existed so that she could make her life hell. Instead, she was letting her poison all her days on her own like she’d never seen her wings in the mirror and every attempt to be the witch she’d never believed she could be was blowing up in her face. If only she could blame everything that stood between them on the inherent divide between fairies and witches.

Faragonda squared her shoulders looking at Griffin through the emptiness between them. Their personal drama had waited so long it could take a backseat to the responsibility she had towards her girls. “My students have reported to me that your witches–Icy, Darcy and Stormy–threatened the life of Stella, the princess of Solaria, to steal her ring from her.” She didn’t pause before forcing the names off her tongue when she knew the last time they’d cracked against Griffin’s ears it had cracked their friendship but she had to borrow some air from the witch’s domain to continue. Not too much, though, lest Griffin snatched the word away and never found the benevolence to give it back. “They want the ring to be returned or they’ll take it up to the Solarian court and you’ll be hearing from king Radius.”

Griffin rose from her chair, her aura casting a shadow over the whole room as a mantle of darkness fell over the golden of her eyes to suffocate it much the same way it gripped at Faragonda’s throat to throw her in a memory that should have died long before all the other death had plowed into them. “Are you threatening me?” her voice was quick to mirror the intent she’d read into the words to draw a clear line between them and leave them on opposing sides once more as if they hadn’t found home in each other after they’d lost it all.

“Griffin, please,” Faragonda raised her hands – an old habit that had gotten her beaten down multiple times during the war when it still left her words to use on the witch. It had been words that had gotten between them, and not the numerous spells they’d thrown each other’s way voluntarily and not at all. “This is not a threat.” A pulse of Griffin’s magic stung her eyes nearly to tears with the reminder of the witch’s distrustful heart. “I’m just trying to save us all the trouble that this whole situation will cause if it blows up.” Coming clean had to be easy when you didn’t have a hidden agenda–at least not a malicious one–but one wrong word would paint her a bigger villain than anyone Griffin had had to deal with in the past. The notion was preposterous after it had been her winx that’d kept Griffin huddled in the depths of Cloud Tower and turning herself into a vessel for dark spells.

“Of course, you are,” the tension rolled off Griffin’s frame like the taunt rolled off her tongue but she’d take it if it meant Griffin trusted her “insufferable goodness” as she’d once put it, all in good faith. There was no joke now, only open distaste that was still preferable to unrestrained hostility. “Always so considerate. Getting worked up over a trinket,” Griffin flaunted the mockery in her face in a challenge Faragonda wouldn't normally take but Griffin’s own reputation as headmistress could be on the line.

“This is a royal artifact, Griffin,” she forced her voice to stay level–an ounce of asperity would leave the space between them even more slippery than the frozen surface of a dead planet–despite Griffin’s attempts to get a raise out of her as she rolled her eyes in purposeful ignorance, pushing all the buttons she could still find without having to look. It was in her heart she’d stored the knowledge and Faragonda had the chance to reach in it if she’d just keep it open long enough. “You know this is serious.” A split second’s hesitation. Just enough to take a page out of Griffin’s book. “You know how much efforts Oritel threw into hiding the Book-”

“Fine,” Griffin’s tone cut her off like a knife she was aiming at her throat next.

She could hate her for digging up the ghosts haunting the shared home of their past only to spill into the present and link them together with the tears trembling on the surface of Griffin’s voice to mirror her own. As long as she didn’t let the effortless connection they’d had–still had between them if only Griffin would let it out of the dark basement she’d locked it in to rot away without light and oxygen–join them. Faragonda was already right there with her, the echo of her own words burning her tongue and down her throat even in the airless emptiness filling her after the memory of their lost friends had sucked everything else out of her.

“You’ll have the ring on your desk in the next few minutes,” Griffin crossed her arms, almost hugging herself as if to make sure Faragonda wouldn't give into the impulse to wrap her in her own embrace. As if she didn’t know it would only pull her closer with a might she could hardly resist while the cold was still in her veins spreading with every beat of her heart that she couldn't share with the royal pair of Domino. “If there isn’t anything else,” there was only everything else, lingering in the air around them and making it heavy to draw in as it fell towards the floor to escape the struggle of their lungs, “let yourself out. It’s too late for noisy visits.” Too late for her.

There went her chance to see the friend she hadn’t lost in the war only to push away. Common sense dictated she had to hope there wouldn't be another one like this, for the sake of the universe and not just the girl for whom affection was already flaming in her heart upon recognition. She couldn't let this moment slip through her fingers like the life she’d shared with the half of the Company now residing in unknown locations had. At least have some good come out of everything the three young witches had done.

"Griffin-”

The sigh Griffin released in an abrupt bout of frustration carried the rest of the thought away to leave the accompanying feelings clawing at her ribcage to get out. “Business related, Faragonda,” the witch stressed either word before gliding over her name with indifference. “This was not a slumber party invitation,” her irritation spiked again to pierce through Faragonda’s stomach and spill her guts out in a violent display that would have made the ancient evil Griffin had initially picked over her cackle with abandon at her misfortune.

"Business related...” They had too much business together for Griffin to just brush her off like she was the dust on a tome of spells the witch had stolen when she’d still been with them . “Your students have kidnapped one of mine and threatened to kill her to steal a royal artifact. That is grounds for expulsion.” It was enough to get them convicted if she could convince Stella to testify and let her friends do so as well but she’d promised she hadn’t come to threaten Griffin so she had to steer clear of her students as well. Griffin never did do well when cornered so the most she could afford was to implore her to listen to reason.

"No,” Griffin’s instant stubbornness echoed off the walls to crash down on her and beat her into the floor. A little more force and it would bury her right there under the roof of the powerful organism Cloud Tower was that Griffin had employed to protect the three witches when she’d let them into the school.

"Come on, Griffin!” she urged, her pleading almost pathetic to her own ears with how little it moved the witch, almost enough to convince her it was their affiliations exactly that were getting between them instead of their own hearts. “You should be able to see by now that they are following into the footsteps of their predecessors.” A shudder ran through her just at the thought of how far that road went. Right to the frozen surface of Domino. “You know what the ring can do.”

"It doesn’t matter,” Griffin’s eyes bore into hers, the seriousness of her dismissal drilling a hole into Faragonda’s mind to let out over her muscles the overflowing impulse to grab Griffin and shake her. They’d lost everything while putting all their efforts into preventing just that. They couldn't sit idly by and watch it happen again, only this time letting it unfold without interfering. “It’s not going to lead them to anything but ghosts.” Griffin’s look changed, accusation almost covering the agony underneath just like she was barely breathing through the losses Faragonda had forced on her once again after all attempts at burying them had been in vain.

Faragonda drew in a shaky breath before jumping off the ledge without the certainty of Griffin catching her. “I’m not sure about that.” She hesitated for a moment, her fingers curling at her sides for her short nails to dig into her palms when Griffin’s heart visibly jumped into her throat.

There was no going back as Griffin forced herself to swallow it along with all the questions bubbling from inside her to make her burst and Faragonda forced her magic to flow between her palms and form an orb of light that started shifting until it accommodated the image of Bloom with every little shape and vivid color. Griffin had to see it as it was so that she could tell her whether it was reality or illusion.

Griffin’s gaze was fixed on the image as the colors bled in until they reached their full vibrancy to have her eyes lighting up with another million questions exploding in them upon recognition. “Who’s that?” her voice came out as if in slow motion while she was trying to catch her mind from speeding away from her with conclusions.

"That’s Bloom,” Faragonda said only. For someone who wanted an objective opinion, she sure was twisting her words to steer them into the desired direction. Not that it mattered what she’d say when she could count on Griffin’s brutal honesty.

"Who is she? Where does she come from?” Griffin fired out at her as she rounded her desk to get a closer look, already having jumped on track with Faragonda’s suspicions.

"She’s from Earth.” Chasing down the words was much easier once Griffin was taking them from her eagerly. Faragonda could practically hear the logical deductions weaving themselves together in her mind and the emotions boiling in her heart like Griffin had allowed it instead of fiercely protecting her privacy after the last time Faragonda hadn’t liked what she’d read in her. It wasn’t about the fight between them now but about a promise they’d made together and had been forced to give up on if they’d wanted to keep hearing each other’s breaths. Maybe it could bring them back together if it was brought to life like the little baby in the center of it that they hadn’t gotten to hold in their arms.

"There have been no fairies on Earth for centuries,” Griffin’s eyes were on hers again, checking for a lie only to scorch her with their insistent shine once she didn’t find one. Almost like she was looking to see the explanation inside Faragonda’s mind as if they hadn’t reached the same theory despite the deafening cries of the past echoing around them without their permission.

"She’s sixteen, has fire powers and the spirit to match the physical resemblance,” Faragonda dared lay a little more of her soul out there along with the hope threading itself in it again. If Griffin was seeing it as well, then she wasn’t-

"And she dropped right on your doorstep?” The arch of Griffin’s brow was like a slap in the face as it was followed by a scornful smile. “It should have tipped you off instantly how easy this is. Your wishful thinking is blinding you. That relentless optimism never did lend you a clear grasp on things.” The mocking tone might have been scraping against the walls of her heart from inside to leave abrasions behind but the cold in Griffin’s eyes was so unbearable with the reflection of her own loss it was that she had to look away.

Her hands dropped at her sides, the image of Bloom long lost along with her focus that was now carried away by the merciless winds lashing over the once welcoming surface of the most beautiful planet in the magical dimension. “It made me stick with you,” she barely found the strength to whisper through the ice pushing at the inside of her eyes to smother every memory of fire and warmth she’d ever had. She’d known better back then and it’d brought Griffin back to her. Why couldn't the same happen with Bloom? Why couldn't the universe finally answer her passionate prayers and give them back at least a part of what they’d lost on the battlefield?

Griffin’s derisive chuckle shattered the hair-thin glass she’d been hiding behind in her run from reality. “Thick as thieves we are,” despite the spiteful resolve it was wrapped in, her voice was raw like it’d been flayed alive and left to bleed out by a careless cut of a knife and Griffin had always been one for perfection and precision. She couldn’t have been the one to cause this to herself no matter how careful Faragonda lied to herself she always was. “I’ll get you the ring but do me a favor and don’t drag me into your blind pursuit of will-o-wisps.” Griffin turned her back on her and walked back to her chair, every click of her heels against the floor crushing yet another part of Faragonda’s broken heart like it was snow.

"What if it’s her?” she pushed even though it was low to attack Griffin in back. She couldn’t lose her completely when she’d come in pursuit of finding – Bloom and the ring, and Griffin and their friendship.

"What if she’s an impostor?” Griffin countered, in no hurry to face her as she was confident she could lead that battle even blindly but Faragonda could do that. They’d always been counterparts, reflections of each other. Until she’d broken away with the storm in her eyes. “What if she’s working with the Trix?” Griffin’s logic had her blood run cold. It could never happen. The blood in their veins would never allow such alliance of hell. “They never would have gotten the ring if they’d had to face the intuitive protectiveness of the Dragon Fire,” Griffin forced the cursed words out of her mouth with less effort than Faragonda would need to get out of the trap that she’d walked right into when her eyes had seen whatever she’d wanted them to and her heart had operated according to the same logic. “She’s probably a fake they’ve infiltrated among your girls. How did she even get to Alfea?”

Griffin’s gaze was boring into her again in her impatience to dig out the answer herself if she could and bury Faragonda in its place, get it over with. It was starting to lick a little bit too much like flames at her tender skin, just like Griffin’s magic had been protecting her on par with the Dragon Fire, and had her mind tossing between the tangible past out of reach and the threatening future she was speeding towards.

Her students. She couldn't let them pay for a lapse in her judgment. She was no longer a reject transmagic graduate of Alfea who wasn’t even sure she had a best friend to lose. She was the headmistress and had some of the responsibilities her friends had died fulfilling. She had young girls to take care of and she couldn't shake the image of Bloom holding Stella’s hand to let her have at least a little of the safety Faragonda hadn’t secured for her. For either one of them. She had to celebrate if she was wrong about the fate resting on Bloom’s shoulders but that was exactly why she couldn't afford to ignore the possibility of being right, as insignificant as it was.

"Stella brought her,” she made herself return to the present stopping on the way to pick up the question Griffin had asked her. “She accidentally discovered her powers when she tried to help her against an ogre and some goblins.” A coincidence for those who believed in them. But after they’d all been pawns in a vicious game that had been going on for centuries, it would be foolish to think there was anything not driven by a reason... or a person.

"Oh, yes. The coincidence of the century,” Griffin deadpanned, reading her thoughts in a backwards fashion. They’d never been so out of sync before. “This is a blatant set up and you’re naively falling for it.” No wonder when Griffin didn’t want to give in even an inch still firmly grounded behind her desk and seeing to it that she didn’t move either. In fact, her look would be enough to glue Faragonda to the floor, no spell, no magic. “This kind of gullibility flew when we were students but after everything you’ve been through, you should know better. You’re awfully trusting for a war veteran and a headmistress with the responsibility for hundreds of lives.” Her teeth left marks in Faragonda’s heart even though it was her own lip Griffin almost bit into in her vehemence.

She could have it all, swallow it one piece at a time, if it meant they could be together in their signature complementary existence. Griffin was the spice to Faragonda’s sugar making it hard to eat too much to keep your teeth from rotting. She’d been the mindfulness to her optimism, the logic to her faith even back when they’d both been witches and their dynamic hadn’t failed them throughout the rest of the way, Griffin keeping them grounded while Faragonda had carried them, hopeful, into the future. “I’ll keep an eye on her-”

"And please, don’t inform me,” Griffin was fighting her on every step now, her words piercing Faragonda’s wings like they hadn’t even done back when both of them had still been getting used to the sight and feel of them. She’d accepted the change in her once with the whole history of the magical dimension standing between them and she’d done it again after the war had ripped out not just the warmth of their friends, but also the pieces of themselves touched by it. She’d held her cold body to get shaken by the same shivers only to back away from the possible return of the small flame they’d mourned like Faragonda was coming to burn her and everything she’d built out of the remains of her life for the crimes she’d committed before.

"You have to keep an eye on the Trix as well.” It wasn’t her that was threatening everything they’d suffered for, everything they’d built out of the ashes of their hope. And it wasn’t Bloom either. She couldn't take away the desperation choking them every time they tried to speak the names seared into their hearts but they could speak hers with the faith she’d need to survive the monstrous responsibility of her heritage. “You’re also responsible for hundreds of lives as headmistress.” It wasn’t just the two of them anymore and they had people to take care of besides themselves... or each other.

"At least I’ve taken the time to look at them before jumping to conclusions,” Griffin muttered through the unwillingness to bring to life the past she wouldn't have had without Faragonda’s interference as she’d stood up for her even with the pile of bodies under Griffin’s feet, even with the hole in Griffin’s heart that wasn’t hers to fill. “Expelling them will only push them further into any ambitions of greatness they have,” Griffin continued, giving voice to logic instead to hide behind like they didn’t tell each other everything. Like they wouldn't see the truth regardless of the words spoken. Like their souls were not one whole.

"That’s hardly possible,” Faragonda’s own voice rose in turn as it looked to reach her friend. “You’ve read their admission letters.” Rule them all.An agenda they’d heard before coupled with powers they’ve seen in action to barely survive them. What more did Griffin need to recognize the impending threat?

"Unfortunately, I also had the bad judgment not to keep them confidential,” Griffin squeezed at her heart as if to crush it even if her hands were gripping at her desk like she was trying to hold herself upright.

"You had concerns just like I did,” Faragonda would drag Griffin, kicking and screaming, back to the memory of standing together if she had to but she wouldn’t let them fall apart over three little witches that weren’t even the real deal, only offspring left behind like weeds. “You’re the one who’s set off on some misguided mission to save their souls.” She bit her tongue as her fists unclenched–the marks her short nails had left in her palms oozed blood–and her hands flew up to clamp over her mouth but it was too late.

"Your facade is crumbling, Miss Sunshine Positivity and Acceptance,” Griffin growled at her like a guard dog that had caught a trespasser red-handed.

"Griffin,” her tongue probed around with each letter curling in anticipation of the witch pouncing only to stiffen once the familiar name hung in the air waiting to drop like a bomb on them if she didn’t secure it to the words that would follow. Faragonda swallowed and licked her lips as she lowered her hands back at her sides lest she accidentally brushed the trigger. “It’s not your personal failure you couldn’t save them from the three monsters’ ways.” A chance. They’d agreed to give them a chance that the three witches had thrown away long before the attempted murder they’d almost covered and were still getting away with. Griffin had shrugged off their total lack of morality and humanity as witch-typical bullying even when they’d caused permanent damage to fairies and witches alike in her attempts to protect them but she had to open her eyes to the fact that there was no one to protect them from and everyone to protect from them. “It has never been.” They were the ones that hadn’t given Griffin the chance she’d wanted to help them by following their ancestors’ plan too closely to be unfamiliar with it.

Griffin’s shoulders slackened, leaving her tall frame sagging like she would fall back into her chair when Faragonda’s next breath breezed over her. “I was beyond saving as well when you stepped in but that didn’t stop you.” The insistent burn of Griffin’s eyes frantically touching every corner of her soul ran through her in higher voltage than Griffin’s refusal to look at her had been back when Faragonda had saved her life with the portal that had brought them on the same side. Griffin may have had a hard time finding a place in the home Faragonda had had waiting for her inside herself but now her fingers were frozen at her desk after their failure to even find the doorknob. “What’s different now?”

Everything.

Faragonda shook her head to throw the word away before it could fall from her mouth. They were still the same friends, the same parts of one whole... even when they were broken apart. That at least Griffin had already experienced for herself to believe it was possible. “You saved yourself, Griffin.” Had she failed to mirror Griffin’s own light back at her the same way she’d given her hers, too caught up in their duality of counterparts, their forbidden friendship of a witch and a fairy? “You’d made the right choice. It was what brought you to me.” She’d left a part of herself behind to find her way to Faragonda while her students were looking to take everything that didn’t belong to them and the ring slipping from one finger to another so easily was only the start. “And what brings me here now is a matter of interrealm security they’ve dragged us into.”

Griffin rolled her eyes as if to counter the words rolling off Faragonda’s tongue and keep them from reaching her. “I’ll fix that,” she strengthened her shoulders again to take the burden that wasn’t hers to bear along with the guilt for leaving anything of her soul with the Coven to corrupt but it hadn’t been her fault. Icy, Darcy and Stormy had never been touched by their predecessors–thanks to the sacrifice that had left Bloom and Stella their unsuspecting targets–yet they were still following the same agenda of their own volition, cut from the very same cloth as the witches they were descended from like everything else those monsters had left behind in their inability to create anything but destruction.

"What if you can’t?” Helplessness had strapped her hands to her sides, yet the question slapped Griffin in the face moving her backwards and further away from Faragonda to the opposite of her intentions. She’d just wanted to dig her out of the past now that they could witness a future that had been stolen from them.

Griffin raised her chin like she did in defiance and not to stare her down, though Faragonda was still way down below her to have Griffin’s words dropping on her head like bricks to crack her skull open rather than wall her up outside Griffin’s heart. “You should worry about yourself. Save whatever’s left of you if there’s anything at all from the old Faragonda.” It was the sharpness of Griffin’s words that cut her loose from the strings moving her around for her lungs to draw in a gasp of air. It’d been her Griffin had been looking for in the past rather than the piece of herself forever encased in ice. “She would never advocate for me to turn my back on three young girls.” The contempt was unlike anything Griffin had ever regarded her with. Not even when she’d accused her of betraying her by turning into a fairy.

"I still trust you, Griffin,” she stepped forward only to bite her tongue and stop dead in her tracks at the sight of Griffin’s demonstrative retreat. She was still herself... even if she’d failed to give the reassurance her best friend needed that she hadn’t turned against her in her pursuit to rid them of every trace of the witches Griffin had left in a show of heart she’d made her question.

"I don’t trust you,” Griffin put them on opposite sides again drawing a clear line between them that she couldn’t cross as easily as the distance between Alfea and Cloud Tower. No fairy dust could fix what she’d broken with the cold inside her. “I don’t know you,” Griffin’s voice spilled out in frozen waves that would make Faragonda’s lungs burst if she opened her mouth to risk swallowing them. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I���ll have to run this midnight errand you’ve sent me on.”

She dematerialized without sparing another glance at Faragonda to leave her alone in the emptiness of the office like they’d never been there together. The room only seemed to broaden around her to leave her hopeless in the middle like a star that was flickering out in the vast void swallowing its dying light. Cloud Tower remained asleep to her light magic instead of closing in its dark energy on her to suffocate her or chase her away – whichever came first. Griffin had left her unsupervised in her office like she wasn’t enough of a traitor to be kicked out, let alone hunted for vengeance like Griffin herself had been when they’d been brought back together.

She wasn’t coming back and Faragonda had to return to her own office, to her own school and to her own life. A task she almost failed amidst the panic engulfing her consciousness as if to consume it once her body dissolved in her magic and left just her soul behind to wander aimlessly without the anchor of a home. It was just the sight of flames burning in green and blue eyes alike that grounded her back in her rightful position of leadership – a legacy she’d taken over for her friends to rest in peace after they’d done their duty at the price of an inhuman sacrifice.

The ring was waiting on her desk even though it had to have been just a few minutes. She’d lost track of time in the tomb of cold loneliness she’d found herself in when she’d been left on her own.

She picked it up, the weight of it almost non-existent in her palm to contrast with the ton of emotion it had brought out in just a few short hours only for the trouble to be resolved so quickly through cooperation. Maybe Griffin was right. Maybe the terror that had been nestled inside her ever since that day on Domino when her soul had only remained grounded in her body by the warmth of Griffin’s hand in hers had resided in her too long to hollow her out and fill her with paranoia. Maybe she was judging unjustly after the unfair hand the universe had dealt them all on that battlefield.

Or maybe they were being made pawns again to be shoved on the front of another war. She didn’t have Griffin’s warmth anymore–only the burning hurt in her gaze–but she had her students–maybe even the girl she’d sworn to protect with her life–to take care of. She’d have to let Griffin look after herself this time and do the same when the witch refused to be her support and let her be hers.

It was too ironic to be left to the heritage of fairies and witches fighting each other just like their students. Only, that was not what left Griffin unable to look at her. And she had to hope against all logic that there wasn’t another legacy their students were fated to uphold, that it was just the everlasting argument between fairies and witches that was the only thing connecting them all. But she couldn't. Her and Griffin’s friendship was too powerful to be cut in half by an ancient yet superficial divide. And the Dragon Fire was too strong to be extinguished by the evil of three witches.

The ring had found Bloom in an endless universe to bring her to her friends and her heritage. All that was left was to give it back to them and hope it’d acted like a lucky charm rather than a jinx. That and believe in their friendship after the one she’d had left after the unimaginable hatred the universe had been subjected to had given in to the fight they should have ended on Domino instead of inherited in place of the lost crowns Bloom would never get to see.

The River of the Giant Alligator

A bunch of Italians pretending they’re not Italian in a movie about a guy who chose the wrong place to build a hotel… it’s like Avalanche by way of Devil Fish, with an alligator.  And racism.  You can’t have a 70’s Italian jungle movie without the racism, and this one layers it on real thick.  I think The River of the Giant Alligator has its MST3K bases covered.

Rich Asshole Joshua has opened Paradise House, a resort in the middle of the ‘virgin jungle’.  He proudly tells visitors that not only has he left the surrounding ecosystem undamaged, but he’s helping the local people by giving them jobs and improving their standard of living.  Naturally it’s not as simple as that.  Trouble begins when Sheena, the model they brought for their advertising photographs (just for a dash of Killer Fish), vanishes overnight.  Photographer Daniel and hotel manager Ally go to the locals looking for her, and are told that the River God has awakened and intends to drive the white people away by assuming the form of a giant crocodile and eating them all.  Considering how mind-bogglingly stupid the tourists in this movie are, that should take all of twenty minutes.

The locals, who call themselves the Kuma, have a name for their River God but it’s pronounced five different ways and I won’t guess how to spell it.  Because of the deep breathing sounds that presage its first appearance, I shall call the creature Darth Gator.

Let’s get the basics out of the way first.  The whole movie is dubbed and the voice actors are bad. The Darth Gator prop is completely immobile but they mostly keep it in the dark or in really tight shots so we don’t notice… it’s only the occasional ill-advised wide shot where it’s obviously fake enough to be funny.  There’s a spiky fence that exists mostly so that people can get impaled on it and a cloying little kid for no reason whatsoever.  The ‘wildlife’ is a stock footage smorgasbord that includes orangutans and hippos on the same river.  The worst effect in the film is a terrible miniature shot of the hotel on fire, which would have looked just fine if the people involved hadn’t forgotten that flames don’t scale.

So all that sucks, but is fairly harmless.  Now let’s talk about the racism.

We’ll start with the movie’s treatment of its two ‘love stories’, and I use the floating commas because neither of them quite qualifies. Daniel and Ally are the main ‘couple’ of the movie.  The camera lingers on each of them to show that he thinks she’s beautiful and she thinks he’s rugged, and they spend the whole movie hanging out on balconies and boats together and discussing whether the resort is good or bad for the local people… but they never get so much as a kiss.  This is kind of nice, actually, because there’s very little time to stop and make out when you’re being chased by a large carnivorous reptile.  It does, however, make for a hell of a contrast between them and the other ‘couple’ we see.

This is the model, Sheena, and her Kuma boyfriend. I am unclear on where this movie is set (the closest we get to a clue is Ally referring to the area as ‘the Orient’, which could honestly mean anything) but it’s perfectly clear that the reason they hired a black woman for their publicity photos is to make the place look ‘exotic’.  There’s a weird moment when Joshua attempts to flirt with Sheena by telling her, “it occurs to me that Eve herself may have been black”, which… yes, that is how human evolution worked, what about it?  All that aside, at the end of the day, Sheena runs off for a romantic evening with one of the tribesmen.  We never see her talk to this guy or have any clue what made her pick him over any of the others.  They just go fuck on a beach and then get eaten by an alligator.

So… we have blonde, blue-eyed white people having a perfectly chaste, wait-for-marriage love affair in which they actually get to know each other… and black people who run off with a stranger and screw out in the open like animals.  Holy shit.  I want to say I hope this wasn’t something the film-makers actively thought about, but it might be worse if they didn’t.  Naturally, this is also a version of the ‘people who have premarital sex must die’ trope from slasher movies, and the movie makes doubly sure we know this is Bad Behaviour by having Ally remark that the Kuma are forbidden from visiting ‘the Island of Love’ on the full moon.

The deaths of Sheena and Nameless Kuma Guy also begin a pattern that lasts almost the entire movie.  Even though we’re told, repeatedly, that Darth Gator wants to drive the white people out of his jungle, for the vast majority of the running time it’s the brown people who are getting chomped.  We’re told that twelve white missionaries came here years ago and Darth Gator ate all but one of them, who then became a crazy jungle man (not gonna lie, Father Jonathan was my favourite character and I wish we’d seen more of him).  We see Sheena, her boyfriend, and the boyfriend’s brother get eaten alive.  Furthermore, most of the white deaths in the movie are at the hands of the Kuma, who run in and kill the tourists with spears and fire arrows in the belief that they’re doing their god’s bidding, and much of this happens offscreen. Those hit by the arrows quickly fall into the water and vanish from sight.  The only time the camera lingers on a white person dying is Joshua, who I guess they think deserved it.  The impression one gets is that white death is a horror better implied than shown, while brown death is a spectacle.  Again… holy shit.

The River of the Giant Alligator can’t seem to decide what we’re supposed to think about the Kuma people.  Early in the film they’re portrayed as victims.  These foreigners have invaded their land and built this giant hotel, and claimed to be helping them by giving them ‘work’. Ally notes that they’ll be able to live longer, healthier lives, but Daniel wonders if it’s worth it when they’ve basically become Joshua’s slaves.  The movie leaves this question hanging there without exploring it any further. When Daniel and Ally come looking for information about the alligator attacks, the Kuma direct them to Father Jonathan, knowing they’re more likely to believe a white man, even one who’s obviously not quite all there.  The movie really wants to be about the exploitation of indigenous peoples, treated as decorations and curiosities by white tourists.

The problem is, it wants to eat that cake, too.  By the end of the story, the Kuma have devolved into stock savages.  They attack the hotel and kill everybody, and kidnap Ally so they can tie her to a horizontal King Kong contraption as a sacrifice. The ending just makes it all the more confusing, as they turn up to discover that their god has been blown to bloody chunks after biting into a van full of explosives, and they cheer and they just leave.  Is it really that easy to kill a god?  Won’t a dead god demand vengeance anyway?  Does this mean they actually like the white people after all, and were only angry because Darth Gator was eating them?

The ending also muddles the movie’s other point, about the nature of eco-tourism.  One of the selling points of Paradise House is that it’s in the middle of virgin jungle.  Joshua brags about how he’s left the surrounding ecosystem untouched – but then we cut straight to trees being cleared using dynamite, and later we see live piglets being thrown into the river to keep the crocodiles hanging around so people can gawk at them.  You can’t build a hotel in the middle of a place and then call it ‘virgin jungle’.  You’re the one who violated it!

The script is a little unclear on whether Darth Gator is a natural or supernatural threat.  Ally and Daniel insist that it’s no mere alligator (I don’t think this movie knows the difference between crocodiles and alligators any better than I do) and Father Jonathan seems to believe it’s the Devil Himself, but it certainly dies like a flesh-and-blood creature.  Whatever its nature, it’s clear enough that Darth Gator represents the jungle striking back at these intruders to drive them out.  The Kuma literally say as much.  So what are we to take from the fact that it dies at the end?  Have we won the right to destroy the forest by killing its guardian?  I don’t believe the people who make these movies think this stuff through.

I can tell that we’re supposed to hate the tourists, and we do, although not always for the reasons the movie wants us to. Minnow, the red-haired little girl who ‘only likes to play with boys’, tries so hard to be Adorable that you want to punt her across the room.  Her mother leaves her to wander around the hotel alone, because Mummy’s got a smarmy mustached boyfriend to bang (even this relationship gets more attention than Sheena and Unnamed Kuma Guy, by the way… we are told that Mummy and Mustache have met before, and are here mostly to see each other rather than the jungle).  Other notable annoyances include a lady who seems perfectly sane until she starts talking about the aliens, and a guy who loves to complain about Youth These Days and will seize any opportunity to do so.

I kinda wanna gripe about these obnoxious characters, but I don’t feel like I can.  You may recall that I spent a month stuck on a cruise ship earlier this year.  I can tell you definitively that these people do exist, and I hate them even more in real life.

Man, this could have been a fun monster movie.  I’ve seen movies about man-eating crocodiles (or alligators… does it honestly matter that much?) that I really enjoyed.  Primeval wasn’t even that bad – it was about how humans are more monstrous than anything nature can produce.  Lake Placid had that immortal bit where Betty White says if I had a dick, this is where I’d tell you to suck it.  The River of the Great Alligator is just boring bullshit and things that seem kinda racist on the surface but then you think about them a little longer and realize they’re incredibly racist.  I went into this one hoping to like it, but it absolutely pissed on the last shreds of my optimism... like a lot of other things in 2020.

Vampire Perspective (1/18)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: death threats, kidnapping, talk of blood/vore themes, fear, Virgil’s a jerk in this one a lot in general so Imma just put a blanket warning for that here and consider yourself warned for all future chapters

First Chapter (You’re here!) || Next Chapter

A/n: Behold, just in time to wrap up the transition from spooky season, it's Vampire Perspective. Please pay attention to the warnings on the chapters- it's the darkest story of them all. >:)

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 Roman probably shouldn’t have been out so late when the human wasn’t even home yet. He should have waited and he knew he was going to get an earful from Logan once he got back but he really wanted the candy bar the human had left on the coffee table before leaving. He knew if he had waited, the human would have thrown the candy away.

 He scaled the side of the coffee table and grabbed the half eaten candy bar. It was a little melted but wrapping it back up in it’s own wrapping should do the trick. He shoved it in his bag despite it not fitting all the way and then turned around and started climbing down the coffee table.

 He froze when he heard the front door click, his only warning as it suddenly began to open. Panicking, Roman dropped the rest of the way down and hid behind the coffee table leg, lying in wait until the human went off to bed. It was just his luck when another set of feet followed into the apartment.

 “Didn’t I tell you that place has the best food?” Thomas told Patton as they entered his apartment. They had just gotten back from dinner at a small diner Thomas loved.

“Oh, absolutely.” Patton hid his cringe well, one hand around his stomach. Human food had a habit of making him sick, but it wasn’t as though he could go out and not eat. It was worth a few tummy aches to be able to spend time with his friend. He paused at the doorway, knowing he couldn’t take a step further without being invited in. “Well, Thomas, it’s always great seeing you, but I should probably head home for the night.”

 “Oh, you don’t have to leave so soon, I mean, unless you want to. But you’re welcome to come in and stay for a bit if you want.” Thomas said as he took his coat off, sending Patton a smile.

Patton breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, if you insist.” Patton stepped over the threshold.

Immediately, Patton was overwhelmed by an intoxicating scent. It was something he had never smelled before, and while Patton always felt that lingering temptation from the scent of human blood, Patton felt almost physically drawn to it. 

“What… what is that?” Patton gave another sniff, careful to bite back a moan as his fangs threatened to extend. He had to keep his glamor up, but this glorious smell mixed with the fact Patton just had to indulge in human food was leaving the vampire rather ravenous.

 “What is what?” Thomas asked as he stepped into the living room, raising a confused eyebrow at Patton. 

“You don’t…?” Patton paused, remembering how limited human senses could be. But how could he not smell this? It was almost like a human, but there was some miniscule difference that made it impossible to resist.

“Nevermind.” Patton shook his head, slowly taking a few steps forward. He kept his eyes peeled, tilting his head this way and that to try and get a read on the source.

 “Okay?” Thomas chuckled. “Anyway, did you want anything to drink?” Thomas asked, inching his way to the kitchen. “I’ve got soda, juice and I think I might have some beer if you want that?”

“Water’s fine.” Patton called back, but the second Thomas was out of the room Patton didn’t hold back. Using his vampire speed he danced around the living room, focusing on following the trail until all signs pointed to it being… under the coffee table?

Patton got down on his hands and knees, gasping at the sight. Here, a tiny human was stood beneath the table, no bigger than Patton’s hand. And catching their terrified scent, this was definitely the source.

 Roman’s eyes widened, first at the speed of this human and then at the sudden eye contact he found himself having with him. He had never seen a human move so fast…

 Despite that, Roman knew he had to try and get out of there. This human was giving him a weird feeling in his gut, a feeling far worse than any other human gave off. He backed a step away from the leg of the table before turning and running towards the couch. If he could just make it there he would be safe.

But quick as lightning, Patton’s arm shot out beneath the table, curling around the tiny form.

Patton blinked, having been momentarily overwhelmed by his instincts. Even he didn’t know he could move that fast.

 Roman screamed as he was grabbed and he struggled against the tight grip. “Unhand me!” He yelled, briefly glancing up at the human before he froze. He had thought it was a trick of the light but no...the human’s eyes were red. 

 Roman was starting to think he should stop referring to this guy as human.

“Oh, no no no-” Patton quickly shushed the little guy, pressing his thumb to its mouth to silence it. It was strange; Patton was used to being the strong one as he could easily overpower humans, but this was… different. 

What was this thing, anyways? Why had Patton never seen it before? Slowly Patton sat back on his heels, lifting it up to his face. 

….and why did it smell so good?

 “Hmm!” Roman tried to scream but was muffled by the hu-er the thing’s thumb. His struggling picked up as he tried to push the thumb away and get away from whatever this monster was. 

 It was in that moment that Thomas walked back in. “Hey Pat, here’s your...uh, what are you doing on the ground there bud?”

“Nothing!” Patton sat up stiff as a rod, shoving his find into his jacket pocket. If he had the ability to blush Patton was certain his cheeks would be blazing as he stood up. “I mean, uh, I was just… my feet were tired?” He took the water from Thomas, gratefully drinking to avoid conversation and buy himself time.

 Roman let out another muffled shout as he was shoved into a pocket. He squirmed within it but he was effectively trapped with no way out. Besides, if he tried he knew the human of the group would see him and that was the last thing he needed. 

 Although, depending on what this monster was, the human might be the better option here…

 Thomas looked at Patton in confusion. “Oh...okay? You know you could have just sat on the couch though, right?” He chuckled.

“Oh, yeah, silly me.” Patton gave a slight gasp, having drank the water too fast. His hand was practically twitching around the little prey animal, desperate to know more. “I guess my brain must be pretty tired too… I think it really is time for me to head home.”

 “Oh, yeah no I guess it is getting pretty late. Do you want me to drive you home?” Thomas offered, not wanting Patton to be alone in the dark.

“No, I’ll be fine!” Patton waved, making sure to keep his speed to normal human levels as he dashed out the door. “GoodnightThomasSeeYouLaterBye!” His last farewell all blurred together, called over his shoulder.

 “Oh! Uh bye!” Thomas called out. He watched his friend leave, feeling confused at what had happened while he had been in the kitchen. He shrugged, deciding that he would call Patton later tomorrow and started getting ready for bed.

 Roman continued to squirm as he felt the monster leave the human’s apartment. Oh no, this was bad. What was going to happen to happen to him? And, oh, he never even got to say goodbye to Logan…

Patton knew if he still possessed lungs he would be panting he was running so fast, even with his enhanced speed Patton showed up at his home in nary a few minutes. It was a gloomy home, hidden off the edge of town and away from prying eyes. Its beat down appearance was not Patton’s primary concern, the vampire tearing into the house.

“Virgil!” Patton called out, desperate to share this with someone. “Virgil, I found- well, okay, I don’t know what I found, but come look!”

Virgil was down the stairs in the blink of an eye, curious as to his best friend’s excitement. However, even before Patton pulled the little creature from his pocket, Virgil recognized that scent.

“You found a borrower.” Virgil spoke, his voice devoid of emotion as he stared down at Patton’s prize.

 Roman struggled as he was lifted out of the pocket but he froze as he found himself being stared down by another monster. The red eyes gave it away that this guy was not human either.

 The borrower’s eyes widened. “H-How do you…?” How did this creature know what he was!?

Patton blinked, surprised to hear the little thing had a voice of its own. “What’s a borrower?” He found himself asking.

“I thought they all got wiped out like a century ago.” Virgil allowed himself to take another sniff, coming a few steps closer. “Their blood is said to be stronger than the most delectable human. I’ve only ever seen them once this close before, they’re really rare.” 

 “Ex-Excuse me?” Roman asked, looking at the non-human in front of him. “Okay, for one, we are very much thriving.” That...may or may not be a lie, Roman wasn’t actually sure how many borrowers were left but he wasn’t about to let these creatures know that. “Second, centuries? Blood? What-What are you?” 

“Um…” Patton bit his lip, looking to his mentor. He rarely had a meal ask him that before, mostly because Patton stayed well away from humans when he could help it.

“Doesn’t really matter.” Virgil let out a growl, his eyes more red than normal. “It’s not gonna be alive long enough to tell.”

 Roman’s eyes went wide and the brighter red in Virgil’s eyes made him even more terrified. “What, no! U-Unhand me! Let me go!” His struggled picked back up as he desperately tried to pry the hand off of him. Unfortunately, it was proving fruitless.

“Virgil!” Patton hissed. “You’re scaring him!”

“Oh don’t get all humanitarian on me now, Patton.” Virgil fought to keep steady. “I know you can’t resist, you smell it too. Humans are one thing, but this? It’s practically what they’re made for and you know it.”

 “Look, I have no clue what you are on about but we’re made to live and survive, not-not whatever you think.” Roman was still confused about what the hell these creatures wanted out of him but the fact they were focused on his smell did not sit right with him at all.

Patton bit his lip, trying to ignore his instincts as not for the first time they conflicted with his morals. “I could just take a little bit?” Patton tried, raising the borrower higher.

“What, with that little thing?” Virgil gestured to it. “Pat, even if you take only a taste you’re gonna effect it. Just drain it all and be done with it. Think of it as putting it out of its misery.”

 Roman knew there were other words in that sentence that Virgil spoke, but he was only focused on one. “You’re going to eat me!?” He tried struggling even more but he was already tiring himself out. But no, he couldn’t give up. He couldn’t allow whatever these monsters were to eat him!

“No, I wasn’t!” Patton paused. “Not whole.”

“Well, you could.” Virgil shrugged. “I’ve heard of vampires who’ve done it that way. It’s easier than trying to pierce such a small target, and you don’t waste any.”

 “I-I’m sorry, did you say vampires?” All their talk was starting to make sense now and Roman didn’t like it. “P-Please, I assure you, I taste disgusting. M-My blood especially! I eat so much junk, there’s no way I have good blood.” Roman tried desperately.

“That just makes it tastier.” Virgil got a glint in his eye, coming closer with a predatory grin.

“Virgil.” Patton said sternly, turning to the side to hold the borrower closer to himself.

“Look, finders keepers Pat.” Virgil crossed his arms. “But if you’re giving up your shot, I am not missing out on this opportunity again.”

 Roman gulped, leaning back as far as he could in the grip. “D-Did I say junk food, I meant d-dirt?” Roman mumbled out of fear. He didn’t miss how Virgil had said ‘again’. How many borrowers had fallen prey to these vampires before?

“Well?” Virgil quirked an eyebrow, impatient.

“I…” Patton groaned. This was so much worse than with humans. Sure, Patton felt bad about drinking from a human on the rare occasion his instincts got too strong, but at least when he had self control Patton knew he wouldn’t kill them. And no matter how good this borrower smelled, Patton couldn’t ignore the fact that it acted just like a human being. 

Virgil gave a sad sigh, almost as if he was disappointed despite expecting this. “Come on, Patton.” He stuck out his palm, waiting.

 “No! Please, you can’t do this!” Roman yelled but his actions didn’t match how panicked he was, as his struggled were now slow from how much he had done so before. This couldn’t be the end for him. It-it just couldn’t be.

Patton felt his heart leap into his throat, overwhelmed by his sympathetic urges at the desperation in the borrower’s voice. 

“I’ll do it!” Patton suddenly declared, holding the borrower close to his chest. “But, um, I already ate tonight. I-I’ll do it later.” Patton tried not to think about all that human food making a rock in his stomach.

Virgil squinted at him. “...fine.” Virgil let his hand drop. 

 Great, so not only was he still going to be eaten but now they were going to prolong it. No, he couldn’t think like that. He had to use the time he had to figure out a way to escape. He had to remember he was dealing with a vampire though. Not a human. He would have to be extra careful, maybe try when they were asleep.

 ...Wait, did vampires even sleep?

Dear Dad, fuck you.

Pairing: Stuckony 

Summary: My take on Civil War, but with less property damage and as much betrayal and drama. 

TW: abuse both physical and verbal but not sexual (thank you Howard for your A+ parenting skills).

Ok, so you may cry and hate me at the end.

Also: This is the first installment of my universe A. The two others are: 

Dear Dad, fuck you Punishments

27 MINUTES AND 32 SECONDS AFTER THE CIVIL WAR

Tony would have never guessed it would have ended like it did. Not in a million years would he have thought that his dead dad would be his demise. He was dead for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t beat Tony, nor verbally abuse him anymore. He wasn’t there physically, and yet he managed, from the grave, to shoot him in the soul. Literally. There were no other words to describe the way he felt.

He couldn’t breathe, his head felt loud and light at the same time, he couldn’t stand straight but sitting down made the earth spin faster, if that made any sense. 

Eyes closed his thoughts spiraled out of the control and images. No. Memories of his dad stuck to his retina, giving Tony a full 3D experience, sound included. And eyes opened, reality dawned him: Steve and Bucky didn’t want him anymore.

You are a worthless piece of shit, that’s what you are.

I should have made your mom abort you.

I won’t pay for any ransom.

Why can’t you die?

Funny how when everything goes to shit, his dad is the first one he hears. Always. Tony was long used to his voice in his head, muttering death threats, insults, or influencing his suicidal thoughts.

Tony finally decided to sit on the couch.

“JARVIS, lights out”.

He flinched at the sudden darkness. His left eye twitched. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea, after all. He’d rather suffer under the artificial lights than…his breath quickened and his thoughts spiraled. He could feel hands on his shoulders. A fist to his left eye. A blow on his lower back. A sharp pain to his right wrist…

The lights suddenly went on. Tony gasped, body shivering from the phantom pain, the adrenaline forcing him to stay alive through all his tortures, while shock and uncertainty chained him close to reality.

Focus Tony. You can do it, whispered a soft motherly voice. He wailed at the sound of her voice. She was the only one he heard when everything went to shit. Not his mom or Ana, Edwin’s wife. No. Hers. He called her mammina even though Howard would have had a heart attack hearing him. She was a nurse, who used to take care of him every time he was kidnapped. All 7 times.

She was a middle age black woman, who had worked as their personal nurse in case of emergencies. She had given him more love in the first few months after his first kidnapping than both of his parents in years. 

She’d smell like vanilla and cinnamon and talk softly. She’d always have a twinkle in her eyes every time she’d tell him a story. Tony used to be so thrilled to listen to her. Whatever the kind of story, whether it was fairytales or made-up ones from her life, he’d feel as if he was a part of it. She never made him feel worthless. She even learnt Italian for him, calling him her Tesorio, when he’d show her his grades reports and inventions, Cucciolo when Howard or Maria were missing his birthdays, and Luce dei miei Occhi, whenever she saw him.

If he’d been her light, she’d been his sun in the darkest night. He couldn’t recall one moment when he didn’t hear her voice calming him, cheering him, reassuring him. Even she wasn’t here physically, she was still in his head. Always.

Her death had hit him hard. Harder than his parents. Harder than the Jarvis. She had always been his pillar. His guide in life. He could recall a thousand proverbs, phrasing, advice for each different situation in life. She had prepared him for the real world, and yet, he somewhat felt like a failure. After her murder (she was shot while going to church), he had totally lost touch with reality. His parents had been dead for a few years by then and Jarvis and Ana for less than 2 years.

Tony should have been seen it coming. Everyone died because of him.

He went to the funeral and sat in the back of the church, feeling like an intruder. He had jumped to his feet a few minutes in the ceremony and tried to run out, when his mammina’s daughter, Celestia, intercepted him, calling him in front of the entire church, his name resonating in the holy building. He could still hear what she said, loud and clear.

“Tony, my baby brother. Mom wanted you with us, your brothers and sisters. Don’t run, please. Luce dei miei Occhi, come back to us.”

It only took a few words for him to feel the sun. The light he hadn’t expected to see again.

At the end, he found more than a mom, he had a family.

And every year he went to each of their birthday. He had[AB1]  two baby siblings, two older brothers and one older sister, nieces, and nephews and even grandparents. They all accepted him for what he was and never used him, nor his money. They welcomed him when he was down, teaching him how to recover with love, a lot of talking and proof of fatherly/motherly love.

To say he’d been surprised, when he had to witness an “argument” between one of his nieces and her dad, would be a euphemism. He had feared the violence, the insults and other dismissal, but had been floored. They both had decided to go to their room for a few moments, the time to cool down and then talked in the living room in calmed voices. Not ones had he experienced an argument in his new family, even the most vocal ones, which didn’t end up calmly.

Never in his life had he seen a more functional family. More props to burn Howard’s grave.

“Sir,” JARVIS urged him.

Tony focused on his surroundings. DUM-E held a poisonous smoothie under his nose. How hadn’t seen him before?

“No, thanks, DUM-E”, he replied softly. “I feel a bit…nauseous”

DUM-E chirped sadly but moved away.

“Sir, are you all right?” JARVIS enquired worried.

“Yes, thank you, J’” Tony replied softly.

Tony stayed down for a moment. His breathing was back to normal and his migraine was gone. Maybe he should go to his bed and take a nap. He didn’t dare ask Jarvis for how long he’d been awake. He’d work on the prototypes later anyway.

           He stood up, wobbling on his feet and made his way to the doors.

You should keep Cap’s name out of your mouth, Boy. He was worth ten of you.

He never was slacking; you should take example on him…not that you’d be able to reach his level anyway.

You may be a genius, but you still couldn’t free yourself. What are you, 9? 10? You’re old enough to get away from these clowns. Kidnapping? I call it attention seeking.

At your age, Steve fucking Rogers fought against bullies despite his asthma and scoliosis. What’s your excuse? Go back to work!

Tony tried to tune out the voice, but they kept getting louder.

“Stop!” He screamed panicked.

“Sir? Your heart rate is to high, do you need Dr. Banner?”

“No!” He exclaimed. “No,” he repeated softer. “I’m okay”.

Lies. JARVIS’s silence spoke volume.

“I’ll…Where are the capsicle couple?” he asked uncertain.

“On their floor. They had restricted the access.”

Tony ignored the tug in his heart.

“To whom?”

J’ took his time to reply. It didn’t comfort Tony at all.

“Only me, huh?”

Silence.

“If I had wanted you to be silent, I would have put you in a coffee machine, J’. But thanks for looking after me.”

“It is my duty and my honor to do so.”

Tony went back to the couch, took his clothes off, staying in underwear and laid down. The lights went down to a semi darkness.

“Where are the others?” Tony mumbled, half asleep.

“With the Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, Sir.”

Tony snorted. J’ must be really mad at them to use their titles, he thought, dizzily. As he closed his eyes, he felt the embrace of his mommina and a kiss on his forehead.

 DURING THE CIVIL WAR

Today was a good day, so Tony had thought. He wasn’t late in his projects, he signed contracts, surprising Pepper to silence (“No, I’m not going to die, again.” “Are you sure Tony?” Grunts in response.), he had even eaten his breakfast, lunch and snack. It was good day. Until Bucky came back to God knew where, dressed in a blue midnight suit. Steve was also wearing a suit. And by the look on their face, Tony believed he’d missed something and messed up already. 

He probably had forgotten an anniversary. But even as he racked his brain he couldn’t think of a single anniversary. Christmas was in a few days and nothing remotely important happened in this month. Nothing worth being celebrated. So what?

“I’m sorry”, Tony said unsure. He didn’t even know why he was apologizing and couldn’t questioned J’. Glancing at the others, he could tell they knew about this “important” day. And what was it with the grim faces?

“Tony,” Steve called gently. “Are you not coming?”

“Where exactly are we supposed to go?” he asked in the same vulnerable voice. God, he hated that. The tension was torture. He half expected Clint to jump in front of him and admit it was a prank. No. Cap would never participate in this kind of activities. And Bucky had always expressed his resentment against suits and tuxedos in general.

“Tony” Bucky sighed. “The cemetery”

“Someone’s dead!” Tony exclaimed fear pumping in his veins. He looked sharply around trying to find clue. The others didn’t let anything show. Even Bruce who was bad a hiding his emotion.

“Stop joking, man,” Clint said calmly. “You can drop the mask. We are your friends too, you know. No one is going to judge you for mourning your parents.”

Tony’s laugh erupted. They…he…what now? He tried to stop himself as Steve’s frown went lower and lower and morphed into a disappointed face. Tony bit his lips and coughed for good measures.

“Tony, can’t you be serious?”, Natasha said coldly. “Have some respect. We know it is hard for you…”

“You know?” He failed containing his hysterical laugh. It kept bubbling and escaping is control.

“Yes, we know.” Bucky intervened. “He was not only your father, but our friends. One of our closest, actually. I…regretted more than anything murdering them. If I could…If I had been stronger…”

“Don’t Buck, it was not your fault,” Bruce reassured him. “There was nothing you could have done to prevent that.”

Tony laugh died somewhere between Buck’s guilt and regret. Tony’s right hand felt too heavy, hanging by his side. He crossed his arms to relieve the tension.

“I won’t go.” He stated firmly.

“Why?” Bucky asked with a small voice. “Is it because of me? Because I could stay in the-”

“No Bucky. If you can’t go, I won’t. But Tony, we’ve known Howard the longest. He was our closest friend, don’t do that. He had helped finding Bucky when he was tortured and helped me adapting to my new body. He provided us unique gears. He was there for us. He…he had respected me despite my small height, my sickness. He saw the soldier in me. He believed in me,” Steve pleaded.

Tony felt the glares from the others and shuffled on his feet. He resisted the need to give in.

Stark men are made of iron, but you are none that. I don’t know who your father is, but it is certainly not me. Always crying, complaining…(laughter)

Look what you made me do! Stopping the production of weapon to built this…(throws the object at Tony’s face). You should thank me on your knees, boy! No one would do that for a burden like you.

“It is not the problem, Bucky, Steve. It has nothing to do with their murder or your friendship. You can go, but I won’t. I wasn’t going to, anyway, so it doesn’t change anything.”

Silence. Tony’s eyes stayed fixed on his biggest “threat”, Steve. He was red, not the sexy, embarrassing kind. No. The ugly kind. Tony widen his stance preparing for the worst. Steve would not hit him. He was 100% sure. But his words had the same effect anyway.

“Can’t you be more respectful, Anthony. Some of us didn’t have the chance to live a lavish lifestyle with caring parents. I don’t even know where my ma’ and pa’ are buried,” Bucky deplored.

Et tu, Brutus? Tony’s head snapped toward Bucky. What the hell? And “Anthony”, really? Bucky’s face revealed discontent. His eyes were narrowed and he stood tall and strong.

“I beg you pardon, James” Tony hissed annoyed.

“Tony,” Steve warned him, inching to stand in front of Bucky. Tony’s eyebrow went so high he felt a strain in his left eyelid.

“What?!”

“After everything they’ve done for you (to you supplied mammina’s voice). And you couldn’t do that? Going to their grave and commemorating their lives should be the bare minimal. After all, if it wasn’t for them, you’d be (loved) nothing,” Bucky spat.

“No…nothing!” Tony spluttered indignantly. “They were never around me. I didn’t even call them mom or dad, they had always been Maria and Howard. They were never there for any of my birthdays, celebrations, school representations, not even the annual parents-teacher meeting. I. Made. Myself. I was born alone, and I’ll die too.” He ended up breathless. He hadn’t wanted to spill these details. Hell, he hadn’t even talk about the worse of it.

“All I heard was “poor rich Anthony Edward Stark, mommy and daddy worked too hard to make the Earth a better world for me”, “poor me, I seek attention…”

The rest of Bucky rant was lost. His father words came back in full circle.

Then Sunset’s words “you were always too much. Too needy. Always seeking attention”.

Tiberius “I don’t know what I’d done with this attention seeking whore. Really Anthony is only good when he opened his legs. I don’t see the genius in him.”

Obediah “God, Tony, lay low for a few months and seek help. Closing the weapon sector, but for what? My attention? You didn’t need that for me to care for you. Don’t be delusional, what would your father say?”

Maria “Anthony, stop, touching my dress, you’re ruining it. (She called someone behind the 3-year-old Tony.) Hey, you! Go take Anthony to his room and locked it. (She went back to her conversation). If I had known he’d be so clingy I’d have given him some sleeping pills in his baby bottle. (Laughter).”

Mammina “Tony, why are you so far from me, come nearer. You know you can always come to me. (Tony mumbles a few words). An attention seeker? Baby no, where did you hear these words? (Tony stayed silent) Cucciolo, I would never lie to you, you know that. You are the cutest little child ever, and I have 3 of them. You’ve met them and they absolutely love you. You are the perfect big brother, Tesorio.”

Tony closed his eyes, took a sharp breath and straightened his back.

“You can all call me by any name in the book: whore, worthless piece of shit...” Bucky flinched, panicked. He opened his mouth, but Tony kept going. “Warmonger, Merchant of Death, attention seeker --” He spat the name. “...but it wouldn’t change the fact that the person you knew as my biological father was a disgusting man, and my biological mother an air-head bint”. Tony approached slowly from the soldiers. He felt enraged. How could Bucky even say that? If he wasn’t so angry, he’d cry at the ice-cold words of his lover, but he was on a rampage. “I should actually thank you. Thanks Bucky dear, you made me a huge favor: to not be in the same world as them”, he finished with a deformed smiled. He knew he looked demented. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care.

Bucky’s expression went from guilty to confused. He pressed his left hand flat on Tony’s collarbone to push him away or hug him, Tony couldn’t tell. He brought his own hand on top of Bucky’s, moving the vibranium one to his neck. Immediately, Bucky backed off horrified.

“Was it with this hand you choked her to death? God, this stupid bint couldn’t shut up! How many times she drugged me, and put me to sleep, because I was “too attention seeking.” He screamed at the top of his lungs. Bucky stared at him with an unreadable expression. Tony may have lost his got damn mind, and he didn’t care at all. He strutted to the elevator facing them.

“Do you hear that Howard, you “made me” Tony cackled. “I’d blow your grave, if it wouldn’t give you satisfaction”. As he entered the elevator, belly cramped by his laugh, he yelled through his tears. “Burn to hell Howard and Maria! Burn…”

   TEAM CAP 

“What the hell was that?” Clint said in shock.

“Stark lost his goddamn mind, that’s what it was,” Natasha replied faintly surprised, which said something.

Bruce was the only one not saying anything. Tony’s act had reminded him of…himself. But, no…Howard could have never abused him. Bruce shook his head clearing his mind. No, Tony just acting as a spoiled child. A very insulting one.

“Should we go check on him?” Bruce asked with mixed feelings. Tony had the chance to have parents providing for them and he literally wish them hell. The Hulk pushed his walls. Bruce took a few deep breaths. Tiny tin man sad, Hulk repeated in his head. Bruce didn’t even try to explain the situation, Hulk wouldn’t understand the situation.

Bruce put his head in his hands. He could feel the headache creeping.

“No.” Stave said categorically. He had his Captain voice. “I don’t know who this man was, but I’m...” His voice broke. “...disgusted by this behavior. It was not our sweet Bambi,” Steve finished lamely.

Silence.

“I guess Natasha; you were right in your report on him,” Bucky commented defeated.

“And I was starting to believe that I had been mistaken,” she reflected disappointed.

“What are you doing to do?” Clint asked tired.

“What do you mean?” Bruce answered, head still down.

“Are you going to bench him? Because I don’t trust someone who could say that and act like a maniac. And what about your relationship? I know it’s not our business, but we are family. A fucked-up one, but still.”

Steve looked at Bucky and sighed. Bucky had this faraway look in his eyes. His left-hand twitching next to him. Whatever he’d say, he’d not be able to get out of the loop Tony had pushed him in. Steve massaged his own temples.

“Is it how you all feel?”.

Everyone raised their hand, even Bucky.

“Ok. He’s benched. I’ll tell him tonight at the dinner. As for our relationship…” He took a deep breath. “If we can’t trust him to have our backs on missions…” He left the rest unsaid.

“We’re coming with you!” Clint declared out of the sudden. The rest followed slowly, still under the effect of Tony’s outburst. “Give us 10 to change and we’ll meet you at the Quinjet or the car?”

“Quinjet. It’s quicker that way. They were buried upstate.” Steve answered quickly, as Bucky fled. Steve followed him worried. He waved at the rest of the group and entered the elevator, next to his lover.

“Do you think he is…ok? He looked like he’d do something crazy. And that laugh…” Bucky’s all body trembled.

Steve hugged him and kissed the crown of his head. Bucky went lax in his embrace. He sniffed a few times as Steve murmured sweet nonsense to his ears. It opened the gate for their tears. Steve didn’t want to end their relationship. Tony had been his home in this century, helping him and proving him wrong from left to right. But…he had to be strong for Bucky and, most importantly, the team. He resisted the need to go to the workshop, pounding on the tainted windows, and confront Tony.

It must be a big misunderstanding. It had to be.

Please Howard and Maria, forgive Tony, he found himself praying silently. He himself had wished for his dad to survive the war and his mom to see him become a man. Please God, let it be a big misunderstanding.

If Tony apologized tonight, Steve would take him back, no judgements. He’d be benched for a couple of days, but Steve would hold to him for as long he’d let him. The pain in his heart matched the distress in Bucky’s eyes.

“You know him, he probably is working to cool down. Anyway JARVIS is here to help him if he needs anything.”

“I would have never thought he’d blown up like that. I read the psychological report of Natasha but dismissed it. Tony had forgiven me and given me a new arm. He even went into a relationship with us. How couldn’t we that side of him?”

Steve shrugged. When he thought about it, Tony had never been particularly keen on talking about his parents. Jarvis and Ana, ok. At first, even Steve had thought they were his godparents, not the butler and his wife. And when Bucky told stories about Howard, Tony tended to shy away and changed the subject. Steve was now frowning. Something dark and ugly woke up in the pit of his mind.

“Well, I don’t know. At first, I thought he never liked talking about them because he missed them, but after what we’ve just witnessed, I’d say he really hates them.”

“Do you think they could have been more than distant parents? He said stuff about his mom drugging him and his dad being a monster. But Howard had never been like that, right Steve?” Bucky asked, guilt pouring in his voice.

Steve heard the rest of his questions loud and clear. Were we so blind that we inflicted emotional pain to our lover? And the most important, what if it was true? Steve couldn’t reconcile the image of Howard, sweet and joyful Howard, and the one from Tony’s memories. If Steve…he swallowed with difficulty. If he were to believe Tony, and a big part of him already did, because Tony had never seen so raw, begging for them to believe him through his rage, Steve would set the entire cemetery on fire.

So, he hugged Bucky tightly and tried to reassure him.

“Sweetheart, no. Don’t do that. You can’t guilt yourself for that. Even blinded by his anger, Tony didn’t blame you for their death. He was angry and lashed out. He would have done the same or worse if it was me.” Steve refused to talk about the thanks for their murder. What the hell, Tony! Steve thought anger flaring in his chest. It wasn’t fair for Bucky, his sweet love he shouldn’t have to relive his worst moments. They survived the Depression, war, ice/Hydra and they were still together. Has everything been a sham? They had given their life for a better future, putting their lives in their friends’ hands, who were supposed to hold the peace torch, when Steve and the other soldiers couldn’t anymore.

But, it also explained why Tony was so jagged, his control issues, lack of trust, insecurities, big mouth…

It wasn’t fair for him too, their Bambi…Steve contained his tears. The mere thought of little Tony being afraid, unsafe (Drugged, he said) and sad, made him sick and furious. 

Steve deflated. 

No, Howard couldn’t…he hadn’t…

“He thanked me…” Bucky said broken. He pushed Steve, bending and heaving. Steve massaged his neck slowly.

“He didn’t mean it, Babe. He wanted to rile us up. You’ve seen how hysterical he was…”

It took a few minutes for Bucky to come back to himself, and even then, his face had a greenish undertone. A fit despite the serum.

“JARVIS, could you tell us if Tony is not okay, please?”

The AI took a few moments to reply.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky nodded silently, while Steve cringed. What a fucking day.

   POST CIVIL WAR

Tony woke up at the sound of an alarm. He groaned and covered his head.

“Sir, the others are already here. They have prepared dinner and request your presence.”

“What are the odd I could charm my way out of this trap?” Tony asked sarcastically.

“Slim to none. Emphasis on the none.”

Tony laughed and stood up. His left eye was blurry, but alas, he didn’t have the time to fix it, as well as his hand, which gave him hell. Stark men are made of iron, he said out loud to give him more strength.

The voice of mammina replied full of wit. “Oh, really? I don’t know about the Stark men but my little Tesorio is made of love. No one can take love away from you. It makes you fly, melt, explode, you feel invincible. Once you love, Tonio, you could rule the world, and bend any types of iron. I love you, my Luce. I’m proud of you, no matter what.”

Tony wiped his tears. I hope you are still proud of me. As he entered the elevator, his phone rang. One of his little brothers.

“What do you want Darius?” Tony asked upfront.

“Listen, listen. Go on, talk to him” Darius replied in a hush tone.

“’Onc’ ‘Ony! Onc’ ‘Ony!”

Tony cooed and felt his inside melt. His baby nephew, Anthony, was just a few months old and already a beam of joy in his life. He had more pictures than he dared to admit. Sue him, his nephew was the cutest, with his little dimples and crooked smile. But then again, his other niece and nephew had him wrapped around their chubby fingers.

“Hello big boy, Oncle Tony is so proud of you!” He cooed in his “I’m going to melt inside and have cavities” voice.

“Do you imagine our surprise when his first words were ‘Ony and then Onc’ Ony’. I swear to God, we won’t invite you anymore. That’s the third baby doing that stuff. Are you sure you don’t have any magic, bro?”

Tony laughed through his happy tears.

“I guess I have some magic left from mammina”.

“True, true”, he conceded. “Are you still coming for the commemoration?”

“Of course! I have never missed one and wouldn’t dare. I don’t want mammina to haunt me and whoop my ass.” Tony joked.

“Pfff. She’d never do that. You were always her favorite, didn’t know why. We knew she worked for a white and rich family (Tony rolled his eyes amused), and then we saw your scrawny ass and lost puppy eyes. Couldn’t resist this kid who needed to be our protector, even though, he was pocket size.”

“Hey! Although I liked the beginning of your story, the wording could be better. I never was pocketsize; we call it fun size.” He pouted.

“Who? The members of your “fun size” group”.

Tony grunted. Darius laughed and bid him goodbye in a hurry. Apparently, his nephew had taken his diaper off and was smearing poop on the white walls. Tony’s laugh resonated in the stilled elevator. J’ opened the doors as he placed the phone in his pocket.

The sight in front of him made him frown. He prepared himself to stay calm and have a mature conclusion to their arguments like he’d seen with his siblings. Mammina’s advice about love was about to come handy. They at least deserve the truth and some apologies. Hearing them talk about his parents so fondly had made him angry, jealous, then sad. Why was he not enough? Could he have done better, be a more obedient child… no. He wouldn’t go there. He had to stay clear-headed.

 Steve and Bucky had changed clothes. They were now wearing hoodies and joggings. Their comfort clothes. Like him. He had found Steve’s hoodie and Bucky’s jogging, in one of his private stashes. He would deny taken them and some other of their items because it soothed him.

This was going to be long. He took a deep breath as he walked towards the kitchen. The rest of the team were standing up around the table.

Steve went on Tony’s left and Bucky next to Steve. Tony stared at them sadly. The fluffy conversation with Darius seemed like years ago.

“You had fun on the phone,” Clint noticed calmly. Almost too much. It was such a 180 with his jerk personality.

“It’s not every day that you nephew’s first words are “Onc’ Ony”. Well, the two others did the same. So, I was kinda happy.”

“Lying Stark? You don’t have no family left,” Natasha accused him, eyes narrowed.

“So, family is only the people from your blood, got it.” Tony replied without showing any annoyance. He took his phone, scrolled down a few family pictures and showed them one, where his papà was still alive. Before cancer took him.

He introduced each member, referring them as his baby brothers or older ones. His finger trembled as he reached the head of the family. Mammina and Papà. A little Tony could be seen standing proudly next to two smaller kids.

“It was my mammina.” He explained softly. “She was the best woman in the world. She took care of me when I got kidnapped. She was always here to help me, heal me. She built me.” He threw a glance at Bucky, who was frowning.

“Kidnapping?” Bruce asked in disbelief.

“Tony…Why would they kidnap you?” Steve asked, as skeptical as Bruce.

“I’m a genius. I was the one proofing Howard’s blueprint. By the age of 7, I had improved one of his Jericho. But people kidnapped me because of money. They thought Howard would pay them. He never did. (Tony raised a hand to cut the protestations.) J’ will send you all the medical reports and police ones. He will also forward my file from CPS. I know it’s hard to believe it. He was your friend and never showed his other side. When you both went down, he died too. He became…” Tony choked on his words.

“How can we believe you, when you were so maniac, this afternoon? You hurt Bucky and used his guilt to make a point.” Natasha asked, arms crossed.

“If you don’t believe the official papers, you should ask Coulson and Fury. They won’t lie to you.”

“What?” Bruce blurted.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked concerned.

“I don’t have the envy, nor the will to go through the verbal and physical abuse of my parents. Coulson and Fury were there to retrieve me from Shield office after each kidnapping. They couldn’t do anything because my dad financed the entire organization,” Tony explained bitter. “Call me selfish but this woman and this man (he showed mammina and papà), were my real parents and those are my brothers and sisters, grandparents…They are MY family. They chose me when my real parents didn’t.”

The room grew silent. Tony tap his left eye and groaned in pain.

“Are you okay, Tony?” Bruce inquired, with a certain unease.

He waved at Bruce, brushing his concern. Gosh, it itched. Fuck it, they already knew too much already. With his right index, he pressed firmly his temple and with his thumb pressed the corner of his eye. He felt the prosthetic pop out, disconnecting from the electronical socket linked to his brain. After all these times, he still felt proud of himself. He had succeeded in something his dad could have never. 

Everyone can create a missile Howard, but it takes a genius to create something so complex connected to the brain.

“Tony!”

Bruce’s voice bloomed in the room.

“The fuck!” Clint swore.

“Bambi?”

Tony finally paid attention to his surroundings. The lack of pressure on his socket almost made him come. If only he had his cotton swab and alcohol. He gritted his teeth to recede his pleasure. It wasn’t the right time to be distracted.

He turned blindly on his left and bumped against a wall. A human one. Tony raised his head and met Steve’s blurry ones.

“We are so sorry Tony. We didn’t know. It certainly explained why you didn’t want to talk about them.”

Tony frowned. They believed him, like that.

“Don’t you want to read the files, before trusting me?” He asked with a small voice.

Bucky shook his head.

“No, Doll. If you want, you’ll talk to us about it, but we won’t read anything. We trust you. Like you trusted me with my issues.”

Tony was left speechless. He had expected screams, fat tears and a few blows. It was anticlimactic at best. He tried to remember what Darius had told him about reconciliation. Now was his time to “apologize”.

“Ok. Ok. I have some apologies to say.” He held his hand to stop them, from interrupting him. “I should have talked to you frankly. If we had discussed about them, none of that would have happened. I should have understood that the people they were with you and with me were totally different. You’ve known them as your friends. And you wanted to visit your friends and not them as my parents.”

“That’s stupid, Bambi, and you know it. If we’d known what they did to you, we would have been pissed, and maybe broke a tombstone or two.”

“Steve!” Tony screamed flabbergasted. He glanced at Bucky who shrugged smugly.

“I told you he was a little punk.”

Steve didn’t even resent this affirmation. He was smirking (SMIRKING) proudly.

“So…you are okay?”

Clint looked so out of it. Natasha didn’t look like she really believed Tony. As if pulling his own eye wasn’t proof enough.

“What Clint meant, is that we still don’t trust you, Stark. And we had decided to bench you.”.

Tony step back, eye going from each of them to stop on Steve’s pleading ones.

“What?”

“We weren’t sur you were ok. What you said without context scared us.”

Tony’s left hand flew to his neck as a reassuring gesture. He massaged the place under his jaw. Bucky made a strangled noise, making him stop.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I should have never done that and sorry for thanking you. Even though, I am still relieved they are dead. I wished it wouldn’t have been by your hands.” Tony apologized ashamed; face pinched in a pained grimace. He sighed deeply. “I understand all of your concern and I…would stay out until you deem me worthy.”

Bucky surged forward pushing a frozen Steve. He grabbed Tony’s face, pressing their foreheads together.

“You. Are. Not. Worthless” Bucky said through clenched teeth. “I don’t care what Howard or Maria said to you, but you are definitely not worthless.” Tony couldn’t avert his eyes and felt compelled to spill more truths, Howards truths.

“You should keep Cap’s name out of your mouth, Boy. He was worth ten of you.” He mumbled eyes now closed. He couldn’t handle to see the pity in those baby blue.

Steve gasped audibly. Bucky’s hand gripped tightly his face, pleading him to stop.

“Cap and Sarge were never slacking; you should take example on them…not that you’d be able to reach their level, anyway.”

Bucky’s breath hitched. Tony felt two additional arms around him.

“You may be a genius, but you still couldn’t free yourself. What are you, 9? 10? You’re old enough to get away from these clowns. Kidnapping? I call it attention seeking.”

Bucky stepped away, breathing loudly. You have done it, Tones, they are going to leave you. They’ll see that you are not good enough and leave you, he thought darkly.

“Buck!”

“Bruce”

Tony opened his eyes just in time to witness Bucky breaking his kitchen counter and Bruce’s departure. Clint and Natasha went after Bruce, leaving them all alone. What the hell just happened! Steve walked carefully to Bucky. He looked wildly around him, in defensive posture. Steve’s hands were raised in front of him.

“Bucky, everything is ok. There is no threat.”

“Tony,” he replied miserably before breaking down. He sobbed in Steve’s arms, eyes locked on Tony. He raised an arm to make it come. Anthony E. Stark would have deflected and made a run for it, then hid in his workshop, but Tesorio raised by his fierce mama sucked it up and approached. Steve let go of Bucky and embraced them both, crushing them both into his chest.

Tony hissed in pain. Steve backed away.

“What is wrong? Did we hurt you?”

Tony shook his head. His right wrist was, again, acting up. He should have never slept on it. He massaged his wrist firmly and waited for a little whirling sound.

           Immediately, the servos in the socket released the prosthetic. Tony moaned as the pinched nerve in his human upper wrist relaxed. He held his right hand with his flesh one, as he kept massaging the injured one.

“J’, pull up the blueprint for the latest version of Dub 4 and add a note to look for any rust. And also contact Dr. Cho, for my usual appointment.”

“Done, Sir.”

“Thanks.”

Still in his thought, it took him more time to notice the heavy silence. 

Oh. 

Steve was again in his personal space, Bucky on his right. They both eyed  him with awe and sadness.

“I was 7, my third kidnapping. They wanted me to build something or were mad at my dad for not coming nor paying them. Knowing I was a genius they had the brilliant idea to extract my eye. I was unconscious. I guess.” Tony explained while massaging under the eye pocket. “The hand came before I went to MIT. I had already won multiple engineering /robotic prizes. They had wanted me to build a missile, the first one. Guess Obediah was already dealing under the table. When I didn’t want, they severed my hand. I was conscious.” Tony stated numb. He hated thinking of his past defenseless self. He wished he could hug and protect his younger self.

Bucky pushed Steve aside and scooped Tony in his arms. He squealed but didn’t try to escape for once. Steve followed them briskly.

Once in their room, Bucky laid him in the middle of the bed and hugged him. Sweet nonsense pouring out of his mouth. Tony tried to ask Steve for help, but he joined them and did the same. Tony closed his eyes, fighting his weaker side.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

His persona broke piece by piece.

“I want my mammina,” he cried loudly, tears rolling down his cheeks. He missed her warmth, her smile, her scent. She should have been here instead of him. He destroyed so many lives building weapons while she was killed by them. Mammina, forgive me, please, he prayed in his heart.

“We know, Doll”

“We are sorry, Bambi”

“We’ll make it up for you”

“We love you”

Bucky’s strong body in front of him prevented him from curling on himself. He placed his head his heart, as Steve pressed his body in his back.

Soft kisses made him relaxed. She used to do that when he had nightmares, kissing his demons away.

“I ‘ove you, too” He confessed softly.

“Tell us about them, your family.”

When I was 3, I met this nurse. She was…

   Notes: Two baby siblings one his Kareem, Ahmaud.

Two older brothers Darius, Joseph

One older sister Janice

Mother masterrliiiisssstt ✨✨✨🐱‍🏍

GoT Afterthoughts ep. 08x01 ‘Winterfell’(Part 2)

Okay, well now that I’ve gotten some sleep, let us continue, shall we?

~

So we left off with the Great Hall sass-fest between Dany and Sansa, who clearly have gotten off on the wrong foot. Not gonna lie, I’m enjoying this jealous, very snappy side of Sansa. Remember when I told you all last season that it would take the threat of Dany encroaching upon what Sansa perceived as hers — her home, her closeness with Jon and her place by his side — for us to start seeing her feelings begin to emerge? Well my friends, I believe its begun, and it’s only going to get worse as the season progresses. Sophie did say that Sansa’s fight this season was a more passionate one...

~

As for Dany’s reply? I’m sure that I don’t have to tell y’all how highly inappropriate it was. Not that i begrudge homegirl a saucy clapback, but that’s probably not the best thing to tell an entire room full of people who don’t particularly trust you yet, and know how dangerous and unpredictable your dragons are. And let’s not forget that the dragons actually have eaten people before, so it’s really nothing to joke and/or scoff about. For me, it harkens on Jorah’s comments in the season 7 finale regarding why the Dragon Pit was constructed...

~

“Dragons don’t understand the difference between what’s there’s and what isn’t. Land, livestock, children...”

~

So for Dany to make such a flippant statement just to get a one-up on Sansa isn’t a very bright move, imo.

~

We move out into the courtyard where Gendry has taken charge of the task of unloading the stock of Dragonglass. Tyrion watches him from the battlements, and spies Sansa and Lord Royce. Their reunion was always going to be awkward due to the circumstances they parted on, but I suppose Tyrion feels like there’s no time like the present to get it out of the way, and approaches them. Bless Lord Royce for watching out for Lady Stark. ❤️ He leaves only when she indicates that it’s alright.

~

They exchange some terse pleasantries, and Tyrion learns rather quickly that Sansa is no longer the meek young girl he once knew. While she remains polite, she doesn’t watch her tone nor shy away from saying exactly what’s on her mind. This is her home and he’s on her turf now.

~

They share a few barbs about the purple wedding and Sansa apologizes for leaving so abruptly. It’s really just a formality, and Tyrion knows it, judging by his reply. Is he resentful that she left him holding the bag? I’m not rightly sure, to be honest, and she doesn’t clarify on the circumstances she left under, either. He wasn’t back in season 4, but people do change, along with their perspectives.

~

“Many have underestimated you, most of them are dead now.”

~

Well if that isn’t some kind of ominous foreshadowing shit, I don’t know what is? It’s also the truth, so Team Dracarys beware!

~

Tyrion attempts to quell the fear he’s certain she must have about the Lannister army coming to Winterfell, and Sansa calls him out for trusting Cersei. He tries to explain that he believes this time is different because Cersei has something to live for now. I know everyone thinks this is a nod to the possibility of Cersei being pregnant — but what if it’s something else? What if it’s her revenge that’s keeping Cersei going? It has in the past... I mean, this is Cersei we’re talking about, and at this point I’m just throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks. lol

~

In any event, Sansa gives a subtle shake of her head and leaves him with some striking words that are sure to cut Tyrion deep in his pride (beings that he ‘drinks and he knows things’ and puts a lot of stock in his own perceived cleverness): “I used to think you were the most cleverest man alive.” Ouch.

~

My girl is really out here snatching these wigs left and right!

~

Sansa walks off leaving Tyrion to ice that sick burn... perhaps he can cool it with that frigid stare Bran is giving him from the courtyard below? Methinks something is amiss, and methinks Bran is gonna be pulling the receipts soon. Either way, it’s hard not to be a little freaked out by Bran, and Tyrion certainly looks the part here.

~

We move to the Godswood where Jon stands alone before the heart tree. He looks upset. I mean, he is Broody McBroodster and all, but what’s got my precious snowflake son so pensive? He did manage to secure ‘the greatest army the world has ever seen and two large dragons’ after all, and (supposedly) spent the last month ‘balls deep’ in his auntie D, so what could be troubling him? How long do you guys have? lol AND WHERE THE FUCK IS GHOST?

~

Arya sneaks up on him, telling him he used to be taller, and my heart just grew three times its size. 💗 They lunge into a hug reminiscent of the first season when they parted ways as young, naive Starklings, and dear lord, either I’m the grinch who stole Christmas, or I better call a cardiologist!! Jon even squeezes his eyes shut and looks like he’s fighting back tears! Gahhhhhhhh!!!!!

~

Of course Jon sees that Arya still has Needle. He asks if she’s used it yet, and she... omits the truth. For whatever reason, Arya isn’t ready to share this part of herself with Jon yet, and it makes my heart hurt so much for her loss of innocence. AND THESE MOTHERFUCKERS BETTER LEAVE MY REMAINING STARKLINGS ALONE IS2G!!

~

Jon shows off Longclaw, and jfc, these two dorks look so cute with their matching Ned Stark hairdos and their dramatic-ass eyebrows, here beneath the heart tree in Winterfell, and ahhhhhhhh! Okay, okay, I’m done gushing... for now.

~

Anyway, shits about to get a little weird here... Jon gestures with his hand then bends down, placing that hand on Arya’s shoulder and pulls her in as if he’s about to share a secret and asks where she was before, ‘cos he coulda used her help earlier with Sansa. I say weird because that’s the vibe I got, especially when Arya physically turns her head to look at his hand when he places it there, like she’s onto him or something. She even knows exactly what he’s referring to when she states very matter-of-factly, “she doesn’t like your Queen, does she?”

~

It’s all very condescending (and cut me some slack, because I’m not even sure that’s the right word here) — but his mannerisms, the way he sort of mocks Sansa about thinking she’s smarter than everyone, then seems taken aback when Arya defends her—when Jon, himself, knows damn well that Sansa is quite smart, and has even said so.

~

I was ready to climb into my tv and box Jonathan’s ears until it dawned on me just how isolated he must feel right now. The man has literally given up everything for what he holds most dear: his family and the North, only to be met with disappointment from those he cares the most about. And yes, especially Sansa, whom he constantly seeks validation from. His brooding in the Godswood makes a bit more sense now, as does his need to get his old confidant ‘sibling’ on his ‘side’—however immature it may be.

~

I could be wrong, of course, but my opinion only solidifies when Arya tells him that Sansa is only defending her family, and Jon suddenly drops the act and replies softly, “I’m her family, too.”

~

With a small smile, she pulls her needy validation-seeking big bro back in for another hug and tells him, “Don’t forget that,” as the camera pans back on Jon’s face and we see the emotional impact her words have on him as he squeezes his eyes shut.

~

We cut to Kings Landing where Cersei watches the arrival of Euron’s Fleet. Qyburn brings her the news that the AotD have broken through the wall, as to which she replies with an emotionless, “Good,” before we cut to Euron sharing words with the commander of the Golden Company.

~

He goes below deck to taunt Yara a bit — ‘blah blah blah, and balls and first I’m gonna fuck the queen.’ And I do love Euron, and I don’t know why, but he talks way too fucken much and doesn’t really say much of anything.

~

Cersei receives them in the throne room and is very disappointed that the Golden Company didn’t bring the elephants she was expecting. She dismisses them, but Euron has other ideas (as he expressed to his niece earlier on the ship). Cersei basically tells him to piss off with an excellent quote if I may say:

~

“If you want a whore, buy one. If you want a queen, earn her.”

~

But she’s not the only one prone to manipulating situations, and I get the feeling she knows that Euron’s loyalties are sketchy at best — and so we are given the impression that she relents, when she turns back, and Euron makes it past the Mountain unscathed.

~

Now we’re in Bronn’s room—whom I guess has taken up residence within the Red Keep? He’s about to get his 4-way on, but the girls keep chatting on about the Lannister soldiers that were maimed by Drogon in the field of fire 2.0 — specifically Eddie, a ginger boy who’s eyelids were burned right off. I assume this was one of the young boys Arya met on her way to kill the queen before she changed her mind? Probably Ed Sheeren.

~

~

Arya is not going to be happy about this.

~

Qyburn interrupts this tepid display of GoT sex (still hotter than floppy chicken sex) with a special request from the queen. He’s got the crossbow Tyrion used to kill Tywin, and a mission for Bronn. Will he carry it out? Change sides? Is this possibly how the kidnap!plot unfolds (for those of you who have considered it)? Only time will tell.

~

And speaking of such — I’m only 30 minutes into the episode and this has gotten looooooong again. Have I always been this long-winded in my recaps?

~

I’m gonna go ahead and publish this since it’s already a day late. Maybe I’ll have the whole recap finished before the new episode airs?! KIDDING! But seriously, I’m sorry guys... battling illness myself with sick kids and I’m trying here, I swear!!

Journal 43

Codsworth welcomed us with customary fanfare, and Shaun was glad to be home. Nat was eager to tell him about everything he missed at school. Ellie was thrilled to have Valentine and I back, greeting us both with a hug. Some cases had come in while we were gone, which we decided to divide amongst ourselves in order to help as many as quickly as possible.

One case came from a sensible woman who was perfectly realistic about the chances of her husband being alive, but desperately wanted confirmation of his fate so that she could begin the process of moving on. They’d been travelling to Diamond City and become horribly turned around among the rubble and skyscrapers. Super mutants found them, and they'd been separated in the escape. She made it to Diamond City; he hadn't, yet. She described the location he was last seen and gave a few various identifying objects that might be found on his person. Valentine didn’t like the idea of me lurking through a super mutant camp without him, but there was a raider kidnapping that required immediate attention. He insisted I take Dogmeat with me, some excuse about spending a hundred years tracking people down on his own. So he went west, and I went east.

The location was the Wilson Atomatoys Corporate Headquarters. In my gruesome search, I frequently paused to find some sanity in the toy making business… only to instead discover the head of the company had secretly signed a contract to build mines for the military instead. It’s little wonder the world ended.

One employee’s name caught my eye - Arlen Glass. He was one of the cofounders of the company and was fired after challenging the secret military project at a board meeting. The name sounded familiar. I found his office; he habitually forgot his familial obligations, so absorbed was he in his work. He was fully cognizant of this, and made efforts to correct it… in vain.

I confess, I was distracted by Mr. Glass’s story. A pair of super mutants took me by surprise, but in my escape I stumbled, quite literally, over the arm of my client’s spouse. The rest of him was not attached; I recognized a ring she had described. I grabbed it and ran.

In my haste, I realized I had run east, instead of west. Fortunately, the raiders I was running directly toward were more concerned with the super mutants chasing me than a man and his dog. I did fire a few shots to get their attention and start the fight, but then hid as thoroughly as I could behind a pair of dumpsters, Dogmeat bristling beside me. I managed to quiet him, and together we made our way back to town.

I delivered the ring. I could think of nothing to say that would have been appropriate. How does one counsel a stranger after their husband has been eaten? The stoic woman thanked me, paid me, and walked away. I mentioned that there was a settlement northwest that could use another worker, guard, whatever she could provide. She thanked me again, and continued on.

Valentine hadn’t returned yet. I told Ellie to inform him I was headed for The Slog, I’d be back in a few days. I remembered one of the ghouls living there was a technician with a fascination for toy making. I'd found a holotape in the office of Arlen Glass. If this was the same man, he would probably want it returned.

To be honest, I’m not certain why this was so urgent in my mind. I could have simply waited until the next opportunity brought me to that area of the Commonwealth, but for some reason this burned in my brain. I’d listened to the holotape, of course. A heartfelt wish from a daughter to her father. Perhaps the memory of a different holotape spurred me forward.

Whatever the impulse, I needed to see it done. I stopped at the Railroad’s headquarters, even though I wasn’t on Railroad business. I was not in a mood for Goodneighbor. Deacon was surprised to see me, so I explained I simply needed a place to rest. Desdemona would not be completely dissuaded - as I was there, I might as well provide some information. The Railroad has shifted its efforts away from helping synths escape the Commonwealth to helping them blend in. Coursers are rarer than ever, so a synth’s greatest threat these days is the Brotherhood. Fortunately, so far there is no way for a Brotherhood soldier to know if a person is a synth or not, with one notable exception.

Institute refugees are regularly checked on by the Railroad’s agents to make sure they’re getting along in this new world without attracting too much attention. The Brotherhood’s patrols of the Commonwealth tend to spend their time fighting the things they should be fighting, such as raiders and mutants, but they’ve started making personal visits to camps and settlements. The trade caravans out of Bunker Hill are now occasionally stopped, just long enough for the soldiers to get a good look at the faces of the people travelling in them. They haven’t bothered the Minutemen provisioners yet, especially as one regularly delivers food to the airport, but it’s only a matter of time.

Desdemona wanted to know why the Brotherhood and the Minutemen were… tense. Some synths have successfully made themselves a part of Minutemen settlements, some have even joined the ranks. I explained that there was a conspiracy theory among some Brotherhood soldiers that the Lieutenant Colonel of the Minutemen is not only a synth, but a former Brotherhood Paladin who was supposed to have been executed but has secretly been alive and well all this time.

She was surprisingly skeptical. “A Brotherhood synth.”

“He didn’t know he was a synth when he joined,” I said. “He didn’t discover it until after the Institute was infiltrated. I suppose in a way it’s my fault, but I never could have imagined his picture would be on a list of missing synths.”

Desdemona blinked. Then she glared at Deacon.

“I totally mentioned this at least once,” he protested.

“You told me a Brotherhood soldier found out he was a synth and was now living in Sanctuary. You told me you were confident this was not a Brotherhood ploy to infiltrate the Minutemen. You did not tell me he was a goddamn Paladin, or the goddamn Lieutenant Colonel of the Minutemen!”

“That’s the Danse guy!” Tinker Tom added from his terminal. “Eavesdrop on some of their communications, every once in a while someone’ll say something about how if Danse is a traitor anyone could be, and then whoever they’re talking to will say stop being paranoid, and then they get back to the mission or radio silence or whatever.”

“So,” Deacon slowly reasoned, “if they’re on edge about their own soldiers being synths, then they’re on edge about anyone possibly being a synth, which is bad news for us.”

“Can we get a copy of that list you mentioned?” Desdemona asked. “The one with Danse’s picture on it? If Institute data is what the Brotherhood are using to try and find synths, then that’s what we need to keep hiding them.”

“I’ll have Sturges make a copy for you,” I promised.

“Good. I’ll let you get your rest, thank you,” Desdemona said.

I gratefully claimed a mattress.

Deacon volunteered to accompany me in the morning. “If Nick ever found out I saw you and let you go wherever you’re going without going with you, he’d be pretty pissed off.”

“Surely my partner’s ire can’t worry you that much,” I said with a smile at the thought.

“Are you kidding? Have you ever seen Nick Valentine angry?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat of realization. “Oh. Oh shit that must have been a hell of a domestic spat.”

“I’d rather not discuss details.”

“Backing off and changing the subject,” Deacon nodded. “So, you see the game last night?”

I laughed, “Deacon, why are you following me?”

“Eh. Nice to get out for a bit,” he shrugged. “And… if I’m being honest, which I’m usually not but go with it just this once, I wanted an excuse to spend some time with a friend, even with bullets and grenades flying. Which happens an awful lot.”

I was flattered. “Hopefully bullets and grenades will be minimal this trip.”

“Do I get to know where we're headed, or is it a surprise?”

“The Slog.”

“Not what I expected, but cool. Nice place. You know, I spent a month as a ghoul once, must have been ten, twelve years ago now? Hard to keep track. Scared the shit out of HQ.”

“I'm sure they found it unsettling to say the least.”

He chuckled, “This a Minutemen check-up, or personal business?”

“Neither.”

“Huh. Cryptic is usually my shtick.”

I smiled, “You invited yourself, Deacon. I'm glad to have you, but don't expect anything riveting to come of this.”

Mutants, ferals, and wildlife slowed our progress, and it was after sundown by the time we reached Finch Farm and decided to stop for the night. A man with a sniper rifle was sitting on the roof. I called out as he aimed, “Good evening, Mr. MacCready!”

“Holmes?” The rifle lowered, “What the hell you doing here, boss? Think I wouldn't show?”

“Not at all,” I assured him. “Did you just arrive?”

“Yesterday,” he clambered down, “Duncan's inside with the Finches. Abigail's taken to him, getting him to do little things around the house. Abraham and Daniel are gonna fix up a shack for us, give us a little privacy, make some more space. I guess their other son is a trader? Isn't around much.”

“Jake volunteered to be a provisioner for the Minutemen. There was some tension between him and his family. It's since been resolved, but I think he and his father appreciate periods of distance.” I turned to Deacon, “Have you and Mr. MacCready met?”

“Met? Not exactly, but I know who he is. Still killing people for caps, MacCready?”

“I don't know, you still pretending to be anyone but yourself?”

“Ah, you have met,” I said.

MacCready shrugged, “Nah, just recognize him from Goodneighbor. Different hair and clothes, same face and sunglasses.”

“Come on,” Deacon groaned. “No one else ever notices!”

“I'm a sniper, and I was sleeping with one eye open. I notice when I know what to look for.”

“Well that settles it, next week I'm turning into a girl just to throw everyone off.”

I chuckled at MacCready's confusion as Abraham Finch stepped outside, “Ah, Mr. Holmes! Good to see you. I understand you're to thank for our new guard?”

MacCready sighed. I smiled, “Let's save him some professional dignity and call him a... freelance soldier. He'll be making regular patrols once he and Duncan are settled, after all.”

Finch nodded, “And he'll get paid for his efforts, we've an agreement. Shelter and food, but also caps. I'll work out something with County Crossing, too.”

“Thank god,” MacCready muttered.

Mr. Finch returned us to immediate practical matters, “If you and your friend are staying, you're welcome to some supper. Not sure where you're going to sleep, though.”

“A chair or corner of floor will be fine,” I assured him.

“Just happy for a roof over our heads,” Deacon agreed.

Finch led us inside the small farmhouse, and made us feel welcome despite the cramped quarters. We traded news and gossip, shared a meal, and turned in for the night.

An early start the next day brought us to The Slog in the afternoon. I told Deacon there was a personal belonging I had to return, and would be back in a moment. He struck up a conversation with one of the farmers while I searched for a ghoul named Arlen.

I found him in a small makeshift workshop, muttering to himself as he tried to adjust a piece on a small mechanical horse.

“Excuse me, are you Arlen Glass? The toy designer?”

He stopped what he was doing, surprised. “I am. Where did you hear that?”

“I read about you in the Atomatoys headquarters.”

“Headquarters? Yes, I worked there once, before the war. I tried to go back, but the place was overrun.” He was suddenly excited, “Oh, but you made it out, didn't you? Tell me, was there anything left in the old stockroom in the basement?”

I was taken aback, “The stockroom?”

“There was a storage room in the basement, on the south side of the building. We kept some toys there for testing and product demonstrations.”

I understood what he was getting at, “Yes, I believe I did see some toys like the one you're working on.”

Mr. Glass was pleased. “After all these years... Well. Well, that changes everything. I'm sure I can salvage the parts I need from there, and more besides.”

I was still bemused by this unexpected exchange, “Parts for that toy?”

“It's a genuine Giddyup Buttercup,” he was quite clearly proud of this fact, “The 2076 special edition. Best toy on the market, before the war. I helped make them. A long time ago. Do you know why toys are important?” he asked hopefully.

“I must confess, I do not.”

“They help children dream. They let them imagine a better future, beyond this blasted wasteland. They give them hope. At least, they did before the war. They still can now.”

I smiled, “A fine sentiment. Mr. Glass.” I thought for a moment about leaving the past in the past, but I couldn't in good conscience. With a sigh, I asked, “Forgive the intrusion, but did you have a daughter?”

He was hesitant, “She died in the war. I wasn't the best father. Too old. Worked too much. In the end I... I never even got to say goodbye.” He turned back to the toy, “I've... seen a lot over the years. You just have to find a reason to keep going on. For me, it was the toys. It's always been the toys.”

“I think I have something that belongs to you.”

“Me?” I handed over the holotape. He was puzzled, but put it into a holotape player on his workbench and pushed play. As a woman's voice said “Go ahead,” he gasped. A young girl's enthusiastic “Hi Daddy” brought an anguished moan from the toymaker. “Marlene. Oh god, Marlene…”

I thought that perhaps I had made a terrible, cruel mistake, but he was transfixed. The voice of his daughter two hundred years ago told him he worked too much but begged him to find a good home for all the horses. She told him she loved him, and missed him, and he whispered responses in kind.

When it was over, he was shaken… but grateful. “It's been so long... I never thought I'd hear their voices again. You can't imagine what this means to me.”

“What happened to them?” I gently asked.

“We had an apartment, in Cambridge. I went to the office that morning, try to talk to Marc again. He'd sold us out to the military, using our factory to make weapons. I had to make him see sense. When... when it all happened, I tried to get back, but the city was in chaos. By the time I got home... there was only a crater. I lay down in the ruins. I... I just wanted to die. Instead... I woke up like this.”

I winced, and found myself admitting, “I lost my wife, too. For a time, I thought I had lost my son.”

“Then maybe you can understand,” he sympathized. “She was right, you know? I did work too much. And now... I'll never hear her voice again, never get to hold her, kiss her good night. All I have left are the memories. And this tape. As one father to another... thank you.”

I glanced around the small room, “You never gave up, did you? You're still working too much.”

He nodded, “I suppose so. We made toys. We made children happy. That's all that mattered. And as long as I can still do that, I will. It's the least I can do. For her. Here,” he retrieved something safely stored in a cabinet, “I was saving this for her birthday. All these years, it was all I had to remember her by…” He handed me a much smaller, perfect replica of the larger toy he'd been working on. “Please, I want you to have it.”

“I can't -”

“I mean it. And... thank you. For everything.”

He turned back to the tape. I left him to his memories.

“You ok, Detective?” Deacon appeared beside be and asked, quietly. “Seem a little shaken.”

“I am.”

“Which, ok or shaken?”

“Both.”

He nodded, “I get that.”

We walked.

“You know, boss, since we had the Big Talk, it's been easier to look at myself in a mirror.”

“Big Talk…? Ah.” His personal history. He had called it a confession. “I'm glad to hear that.”

He shrugged, “Thought you should know.”

“Thank you. Is that why you haven't changed your face lately?”

“What?” He laughed, “Oh, man am I overdue, but who has time, am I right? And with the Institute gone it doesn't seem so urgent.” We walked a little farther. “You still don't know if I was telling the truth or not.”

“I'm not sure I ever will. However, on this matter I believe it best to give you the benefit of the doubt until further evidence suggests otherwise.”

“Works for me. Just warm fuzzy feelings or did you do that weird deduction thing where you know way too much?”

I chuckled, “Simply the fact that every lie you've ever told me has either had a purpose, or been harmless hyperbolic flippancy.”

“... Huh.”

We returned to Finch Farm that night, and spent the day after returning to Railroad headquarters. Deacon didn't say much except to quip about the wildlife we encountered and ask questions about 'old-worlder' obsessions with tall buildings. Desdemona reminded me of my promise to share the data stolen from the Institute, and Deacon said he'd keep me informed if the Brotherhood started causing trouble.

I made my way back to Diamond City. Codsworth informed me Shaun was off playing with Nat, and Valentine was at the office. He reported that Valentine had been a bit “put out” by my sudden trip to The Slog. I thanked him for the warning and went upstairs.

I pulled the small locked box from under my bed. Valentine and Codsworth have never inquired as to its contents. I don't know if Shaun has even noticed it. I opened the lock and carefully pulled out one of the two holotapes inside. I did my best to ignore the other one. I've considered destroying it, but the idea that Shaun might one day need to know the truth stops me. The only other item is a wedding ring.

I sat down on the edge of my bed and put the holotape in my Pip Boy. I pushed play, and felt my heart cease and breath shake as her voice echoed through the centuries.

“Hi, honey!”

I expressed an interest in beekeeping once. She found it hilarious. It was the only saccharine term of endearment she ever used.

A baby giggling mixed with her laughter as she kept Shaun’s curious hands away from the microphone. “I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a father you are... but we're going to anyway.” She knew how much I doubted that fact.

I heard the front door open, Codsworth's greeting, and Shaun's hurried footsteps through the hall and up the stairs.

“Dad? What are you listening to?”

“A recording of your mother.”

He was surprised. “Really?”

“Yes.”

He sat next to me and leaned close. “That’s what she sounded like?”

“It is.”

“She sounds nice.”

I nodded, a bit disconnected from what was happening. “She was. Inspiringly compassionate, but just as forceful and stern when necessary. She loved you very much.”

The tape played to the end and he asked if he could hear the beginning. I let him. He marveled at the sound of himself as an infant.

The front door opened and shut again. I expected Valentine to join us, but… he didn’t. I watched through a gap in the floor as Codsworth hovered over to my partner, hesitating at the foot of the stair.

“Mr. Valentine?” I couldn't make out Valentine's precise words, only catching the word 'interrupt’ but Codsworth's response was clear, “Mr. Valentine. You are my master’s partner, and a second father to his son. You are a part of this family. I don't know what spurred Mr. Holmes to listen to that holotape after all this time, but I am certain he would welcome your presence. As he always has.”

Valentine ascended the stairs.

“Nick, have you heard this?” Shaun asked. “It's my mom.”

“I heard a little from downstairs,” he sat down on the other side of Shaun.

“In the Institute, they told me she died when I was a baby, but I don’t know how or anything.”

“It wasn’t pleasant,” I said. “She... never would have imagined everything that happened. She would still love you, though, very much. Of that I’m certain.”

Her voice was coming to its end. “But everything we do, no matter how hard... we do it for our family. Now say goodbye, Shaun... Bye bye? Say bye bye?” The infant Shaun found the idea hilarious. “Bye, honey! We love you!”

I ejected the tape and set it on the bedside table.

Valentine patted Shaun's shoulder, “Hey, Shaun, head down and pester Codsworth about plans for supper, ok? I’ve got to talk with Dad for a bit.”

“Ok, Nick,” Shaun obeyed. Codsworth took his cue and kept Shaun busy helping.

Valentine closed the distance between us created by Shaun's absence, “Can I ask what brought this on?”

“A conversation with another father. One of the men at The Slog survived when his family didn't. I found a tape his daughter had recorded for him. I debated giving it to him, why open old wounds... but I did, and he was thankful. It hurt, that was clear, but it still seemed to bring a strange peace to him.”

“So you thought you'd try?”

“I wondered if... I didn’t expect Shaun to come home and hear it, but I suppose it’s good he did.”

“You ok?”

I was not. “It hurts. God, Nick, it hurts.”

I gratefully fell against him as he put an arm around me. “Worth it?” he asked.

I took a breath and nodded. “It was good to hear her voice again.”

He held me in silence for a time. “You think she'd approve?” he asked.

“Of you? Absolutely.”

“Even though I'm not -”

“You love me, and Shaun, and that is all that matters. You and Watson would have gotten along well.”

“Watson?”

“Jane Watson. I introduced myself as Holmes when we met, she replied with Watson, and it remained that way through our friendship.” I sighed, knowing full well my eyes must have been red, “Good lord, how did I devolve into such an emotional mess.”

“Hell, Holmes, after everything you’ve been through?” Valentine softly chuckled, “An emotional mess is exactly what you were due for. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Ha. Thank you. Did you stop the kidnapping?”

“He's home safe and sound, though a bit rough for wear.”

“I'm glad you were successful.”

“So am I. Glad you were, too, even if you did take off without me again after.”

“It was important -”

“I know, I know,” he lightly squeezed my hand. “You know, Holmes, I, uh, wouldn't mind getting to know her, if you ever want to talk about her.”

I smiled, bittersweet, “I'll remember.” I kissed him and we stood. I secured the holotape in its box, and we joined our son downstairs.

Whistle (White You Work)

Summary: Everything would be fine except that everything and everyone is out to get him. (Everyone, of course, being Rocket and everything being anything that makes a whistling sound).

Yondu Week Day One: Red, Music, Ability, Dream, Heart

Series: PTSD Headcanons

Characters: Peter Quill, Yondu Udonta, Gamora (Marvel), Mantis (Marvel), Drax the Destroyer, Groot (Marvel), Rocket Raccoon

Read on AO3

The first time, it was an accident. Rocket was messing with the cookstove and the space equivalent of a teapot - not that he was making food with it, he had said something about nitroglycerin - when it let out an ear-piercing whistle.

Peter had been buried in a part of the Milano’s wiring, attempting to extract a tiny Groot who had shimmed inside and fallen out of reach. When he heard the sharp noise he shouted and banged his head on the pipes above him, extracting himself from the wall less than gracefully. “I didn’t do anything!” he yelped out of pure habit wheeling around and expecting to see the red gleam of a Yaka arrow and a sneering blue face. Instead, the face that met his was green and concerned.

Gamora was standing at the table, her eyes wide as she watched him curse and rub his head, angry at himself for having let Yondu get to him. “Peter are you-”

“Fine!” he snapped.

“I am Groot?” the miniature houseplant he had been attempting to rescue had freed himself - because of course, why couldn’t he get himself out? Peter wanted to smack himself. Don’t nobody need your help boyo, Yondu reminded him - and was looking up at him with huge eyes.

“I’m fine buddy,” he muttered, scooping up the plant and placing him on his shoulder. Groot grabbed onto his hair and settled into his collar happily.

Sen-ti-ment, eh Petey? Sniggered a voice in his head. “Shut up!” Peter hissed. On his shoulder, Groot tugged worriedly at his hair.

“Peter?” Gamora asked, folding her arms across her chest. Telling imaginary people to shut up was apparently NOT helping his attempts to convince his new team that he was Perfectly Sane And Very Capable of Leadership Thank You Very Much. She looked far too worried - did daughters of Thanos know how to pity? - although, if there were about to have a heart to heart about their Unspoken Thing Peter was not planning on stopping her.

Any hope of their Unspoken Thing becoming a Spoken Thing was shattered as Rocket burst into the room, screaming, “Don’t touch that! It might explode!” At that exact moment, the kettle chose to, well, explode.

The second time was less of an accident. Either Gamora had told Rocket about his freak out over the whistling kettle (unlikely) or Rocket had spied on them with the Milano’s security system (more likely) or Groot had innocently babbled about it (most likely). Peter tried not to be angry with the tree, it wasn’t his fault Rocket took things too far.

The whistle had shocked him out of his trance, staring at a bobble he had almost pocketed - although there was no reason to horde shinies so he could bribe Yondu next time he ticked him off (no amount of trinkets would fix the Infinity Stone mess) - but habits were habits and it really was a cute bug-like creature. He nearly knocked over the table in his haste to turn around, automatically fearing the worst and assuming that Yondu had somehow found them and was about to run him through.

Capt’n’s gotta teach his men a lesson.

He didn’t see the arrow, although that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, and Peter was just about to reach for his communicator to tell his crew to run like hell and don’t look back when he heard laughter.

“Did you see his face?” Across the market, under a tree, Rocket slapped his knee and guffawed. Not a fake laugh like what he had done onboard the Elector when presented with 12% of a plan, but an honest to goodness This Shit Was Too Good laugh.

Peter wished he had he own arrow to run him through with.

Drax was also laughing, no doubt this was a part of Rocket’s teach him what metaphors are before he accidentally offends someone plan. Gamora and Groot for their parts looked worried and confused, respectably. He stormed toward his crew, intent on shouting Rocket’s ugly grin off his stupid furry face.

“Quill that was priceless!” he yowled. “Do it again!” Rocket pursed his lips to whistle again, but Peter was already on him, kicking him over and pinning him with his foot.

“That wasn’t funny you stupid Raccoon!” he yelled.

“I’m not a Racoon!”

“I thought I was gonna die!” Peter increased the weight he was putting on Rocket’s chest, not caring how much it hurt.

Gamora, who had apparently been content to let Peter and Rocket shout it out for once, lunged forward. “Peter you’re hurting him!”

“I thought Yondu had found us and was gonna run me through with his arrow!” Passerbys were starting to stop and watch the spectacle: an angry human pinning a rodent with a well-known assassin wrapping her arms around his leg while Mr. Clean watched and a plant cried. Shit, this was not his plan.

“Peter stop!” Gamora shouted.

“And you know what I was gonna do? I was gonna tell your worthless mug to run, you Creepy Little Beast!”

“I am not a Beast!” With that Rocket managed to free himself, either from pure spite or Gamora’s incessant tugging, either way, he was one second short of eating Peter’s face off when a loud sob cut him off.

“I-I a-am Grooooot!”

The Guardians ceased their fight, turning to see Drax attempting to calm the smallest - and youngest - of their number and all arguments were forgotten as he blubbered on about not wanting his friends to kill each other.

“I wasn’t gonna kill him,” Rocket grumbled, “just gonna eat him a bit.”

“Dude!”

“Rocket!” Gamora looked ready to murder them both.

When a whistle jerked him out of his sleep, Peter was fairly certain it wasn't Yondu.

If the pirate had managed to board the Milano, sneak past or incapacitate the Guardians, and find Peter then maybe he deserved to kill him.

"It was Yondu, wasn't it?"

"What?" Peter was too groggy to understand what was happening, struggling to sit up and look his friend in the face. Of course, sitting up would have been much easier if Gamora wasn't practically sitting on him, her eyes sharp and certain.

"I have been watching you Quill, and it has become increasingly clear that you are uncomfortable around objects that emit a frequency greater than-"

He cut her off, not wanting to hear that she had analyzed the decibel rating of Yondu's Yaka arrow. "He's gonna come back Gamora. I tricked him out of the biggest hit he's ever seen."

Gamora finally crawled off Peter, allowing him to sit up and attempt to process his thoughts. "You saved millions of people."

He snorted. The day Yondu cared about someone other than himself Peter would eat his walkman. "He's a pirate, Gamora. He doesn't save people, he kidnaps them." He had once accused Yondu of enslaving him, but Yondu had made the difference quite clear by dragging the then 12-year-old to a slave auction and threatening to leave him. “He’s gonna be pissed and if I ever see him again-”

“I will end him.” She sounded so confident as if it truly were that simple.

“I-” he probably should thank her for offering to defend him. If she - or anyone - had made the offer to murder Yondu for him when he was younger he would have taken them up on it in a heartbeat. He had even dreamed of killing Yondu himself at times. But as he grew older he had become less certain that was what he wanted, hence why he had run away instead of murdering Yondu. “I guess.”

“You care for him.” It wasn’t a question, more of an accusation. When Peter didn't immediately respond she pressed, “Why? He hurt you.”

“He-” Peter waved his hand as if meaningless gestures could explain how he was feeling. “He kept me alive.”  

“He threatened to eat you and “kicked the crap” out of you.” She narrowed her eyes. “He was going to kill you in front of me.”

Peter groaned. He was not awake enough for this conversation. “But he wasn’t looking at me.”

“I was not aware that if you do not look at your victims they don’t die.”

“He always looks at people when he’s killing them, especially crew. He couldn’t look at me because-” he waved his arms again. “He had to make a point.” He didn’t want to kill me. It was a thought he rarely let himself think because admitting that Yondu never seemed particularly inclined to follow through on his threats opened up a lot more questions.

Gamora seemed to understand what he wasn't saying. “You care for him.”

Peter launched to his feet, voice rising in frustration. “I don’t know!” His voice softened, dropping to a whisper. "Maybe - yes."

She didn’t question him after that, and no one dared to whistle around him.

The last time he heard the whistle his heart nearly did stop, not out of terror, but out of relief.

The ship was exploding around them and Peter hadn’t had time to make sure any of his team had gotten out alive. When the whistle sounded above him he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and looked up, seeing Yondu floating above him. “You look like Mary Poppins!” he teased.

Peter was sure he had mentioned Mary Poppins to Yondu before, each time the alien had just brushed it off as stupid Terran nonsense. But to his surprise - although, nothing could be more surprising than Yondu showing up to rescue him (except maybe the confession that the cannibalism was a joke) - Yondu looked thoughtful and then called, “Is he cool?”

He? Peter almost pointed out the hilarious part of the joke, that he was comparing Yondu (who was anything but ladylike) to one of the most famous women in history. Fuck it. Family bonding only happens once. “Hell yeah, he’s cool.”

“I’m Mary Poppins ya’ll!” Peter laughed and allowed himself to look forward to a future where he could poke fun at Yondu without thinking he was going to be maimed, tortured, eaten or any mix of the three.

There wasn’t a next time. Sound doesn’t travel in space and frozen lips cannot whistle.

Author’s Note:

If you enjoyed this and want to read more of my Guardians of the Galaxy PTSD headcanons (I would say Peter Quill PTSD Headcanons, but there is a Stakar and Yondu fic in the works) then subscribe to the PTSD Headcanons Series. Subscribing to this story won't do you any good because I prefer to keep my one-shots separated so I can organize them better.

I do take prompt requests! Just dump it in a comment!

** "kicked the crap out of me" is technically something Peter says in Volume 2, but I figure he's probably said similar before, which is why I let Gamora quote it.

** Yes Yondu did use his arrow after the Mary Poppins scene, but I'm going on the assumption that Peter might not have heard it clearly.

DnD SFW Series: Part 4 - For the Crown

Series Masterlist - For other chapters or NSFW Version

Pairing:  reader x Knight! Chan, reader x Dark Prince! Hyunjin, reader x Thief! Felix, reader x Fairy! Jisung

Summary: Heading into the haunted forest might not have been the wisest of choices for the escaping trio. Especially, when things don’t go according to plan and hard choices have to be made, the prince’s secrets are revealed, and a mischievous ‘little’ figure appears.

Warnings: Injury, blood, falling off horses, kidnapping (kind of), use of magical abilities, heartbreak (kinda), betrayal.

Word Count: 3,872

Previous Part _______ Next Part

You had never been one to truly fear something that was haunted, but seeing how everything else in this world had made you a little uneasy about racing into the haunted forest like this. Mostly due to the fact that you were unsure what to expect, fearing the unknown more than anything else in this strange world. You had no time to contemplate it, though, as you followed behind Chan and Felix, needing to get away before Hyunjin and his men could catch up to you. Not knowing what might happen if you were caught, again, if he was as cruel as you had heard that he was, who knew what kind of future you would have if you were not able to get away. Tree branches lashing out in an attempt to snag you as you raced in, letting the boys lead the way as you had no idea where you were going or what to do if you came face to face with a threat in the forest. The deeper in you got, though, the harder it became to keep up. The other two were easily far more experienced riders than you. They could effortlessly navigate through, while you struggled to follow, it only became worse as a heavy fog rolled in. Chan and Felix, occasionally calling out to you to ensure you were following behind them, though while they could still make out your outline, they did not grow too concerned, unlike your current doubts.

____________________________________

Hyunjin had no hesitations about following your group into the forest. His men, on the other hand, came to a swift halt at the edge of the forest, causing Hyunjin to turn to look over the anxious men who were eyeing the forest as if it would reach out and swallow them whole at any second.

“Well? What are you all waiting for?” Hyunjin raises a brow, eyes burning through each and every man that was hesitating before him as his horse trotted along the edge of the forest.

“H-Highness, all due respect, but are we actually going to go into the haunted forest? Y-You much have heard the very same stories as we have about the things that happen to anyone that enters.” One of his men stuttered out, uncertain what he feared more, the forest or the prince’s wrath.

“I have, and that’s all they are....stories...myths. I do not fear anything that this forest holds, I have been through and back more times than anyone else and have yet to face any true danger, but if I am the only one. Then I guess I will just have to retrieve the princess myself.” Hyunjin huffs before guiding his horse to turn back towards the forest and racing off in the direction that you three had gone in only moments ago. Seeing shadows in the distance, fog blurring the details of their forms, but they were moving nonetheless, and that was all he needed to know to determine that he had found those whom he was tracking.

__________________________________

The men you followed were sure you knew what you were doing, after years of training that the princess must have had in riding. Yet you, you were no princess... you had appeared in this world with no warning and such a lack of experience in this area that you truly struggled at this moment. Hope was not yet lost though, as long as they remained in sight, you would likely find your way out of this forest alive. Your heart starts to beat in time with the pounding of hooves, though not those of your horse, the ones slowly gaining on you from behind, a single, distinct set. Something you attempted to speed up and away from, wanting the safety of being closer to the men you were traveling with. It seemed futile, though, as the same entrancing blue speck of light from the forest dances before your horse now, starting him into bucking you off with a startled yelp before racing off in the opposite direction and directly towards the figure chasing you. Chan and Felix’s shadows disappearing within a matter of seconds into the thickening fog before you, only allowing you to hear their distant calls to you. Something you would have returned if your chest wasn’t currently radiating pain after the wind got knocked out of you during the fall. A thick liquid, feeling running down your forehead from your hairline, but you hurt too much to bring your hand up to see what it was. Barely able to lift your eyes enough to see a figure approaching as the fog clears around him, slowing down at the sight of you, before stopping. Your eyes feel heavy as you try to remain conscious, knowing it could be a danger that those approaching feet hold, it seems confirmed as the figure crouches over you and finally shows you their face...Hyunjin...

“You took a nasty fall princess, just go to sleep. I’ll get you someplace safe and fix you up.” Hyunjin, gently stroked over your hair, his words seemingly casting a spell on you, finally making you give in to the looming darkness. Hyunjin lifting you carefully onto his horse before heading towards a cabin that he already knew, was hidden among these very woods.

Chan and Felix coming to a halt and panicking as they no longer heard or saw you following. Turning back to look for any sign of you, only finding some blood and then further back your horse alone. Panic setting in as they were unsure what to do. 

“Felix head to the kingdom and give them this map, I’m going after Y/N!” Chan insisted, holding the valuable item out to him, causing Felix’s eyes to widen and him to scoff.

“You can’t be serious, they would never let me anywhere near the castle. No one there knows me! You have to take it! I swear to you on my life, I’ll find her and get her back safely.” Felix shakes his head, refusing to take it and sticking Chan in a predicament. Could he trust Felix to find and save you? At the same time, Felix had a point though there was no way they would let Felix in without someone familiar with him. Making the situation only further complicated as he tried to think of what would be best.

___________________________________________________

The first thing you were able to do was groan about the throbbing pain radiating in your head as you regained consciousness. Feeling something cool and damp gently prodding at where the thick liquid had previously originated and eased the pain some. Hearing Hyunjin clicks his tongue disapprovingly as your stirring starts to cause too much movement.

“Hold still, or you’ll make your injuries worse. I’m trying to help, but I can’t do that if you don’t cooperate.” Hyunjin’s words were firm and would almost come off as harsh if there wasn’t a certain fondness in them. Your eyes slowly squinting and blinking as they tried to open again despite the heaviness still present until you could see Hyunjin sat beside you. His form leaned over yours, gently dabbing the blood off your head injury and other scratches he could find.

“Where are we?” Your eyes fluttered around the room, it seeming much smaller than what could be expected at the castle, much quieter as well. Finding it odd that Hyunjin seemed so at home in such an abandoned-looking place such as this, moving between you and the medical supplies a few feet away as if it were second nature.

“We are still in the woods, in a small cabin. You are not really in any condition to travel right now, so I brought you here to care for you. Once I finish this, I’ll make us something to eat so you can rest and recover. However, you may not have that much energy for a few days.” Hyunjin explains before gently pressing over your sides and abdomen, trying to feel for any further injuries, “Does it hurt anywhere when I do this?” 

You give a soft shake of your head, blushing a little at his caring nature, "It doesn't my back is a little sore, but I think that was because of how hard I landed on it. Mostly just that and my head, though.”

Hyunjin nods, “Well your head is already bandaged up, though it might bleed through, so I’ll likely have to change it a few times. As for your back, I’d like to check that and your ribs further, but I promise to provide you with decency. I can give you a shirt, something I can lift enough to see while keeping the rest covered. If you’re feeling up to getting it on, that is. I could unlace you and help you sit up. If you don’t feel up to it, I can try to think of something else.” 

“I think I can change myself just fine if I have that bit of help.” You agree to allow him to help you roll over so his fingers can gently unlace and loosen your corset top before turning you back around to help you sit up. Once it was loose enough, he wasn’t worried about it doing further damage. Hyunjin helping you to sit with pillows propped behind you. Going over to a drawer and pulling out some pants and a loose shirt to sit beside you on the bed. Your confusion must have been evident on your face because he chuckles when he looks at you again.

“You have questions, don’t you princess?” Hyunjin inquires, humming as you nod. He heads towards the door to give you privacy as he answers you, “When we’ve finished this and eaten, I’ll answer all your questions...Call me when you’re decent again. I’ll be right outside, okay?”

You nod, letting him go while doing your best to change out of the trapping dress you’d been stuck in for so long. It is a relief to have some clothes that allowed you to move more freely. Even if not for the best reason or if it was the easiest with your current injuries. 

“You can come back in Hyunjin.” You eventually call, slowly trying to ease yourself back onto the bed again, something Hyunjin rushes over to assist you with doing.

“I can look yes?” Hyunjin asks, looking to you for confirmation once again, waiting for your nod before continuing. His fingers, slowly pushing your shirt up to expose your abdomen, only touching your skin when he has to, so he would not make you uncomfortable. Careful with his touch as well, pressing gently on the bruises that are exposed, to make sure that’s all they are before gently pulling your shirt back down, to help you roll over and do the same with your back. After he has checked you over, he helps you lay on your back again, tucking you in to stay warm.

“Everything looks alright, only surface stuff other than your head. I think you’ll be alright, though, if you simply rest. I’ll go make you something to eat, but if you need anything, just call me.” Hyunjin brushes your hair out of your face in one last fleeting touch before he’s gone. 

You know you should be trying to rest, being left alone with your thoughts though you find yourself unable to. So many questions coming to mind and making your thoughts race with possible answers. Wondering why others would paint such a horrid picture of Hyunjin when here he was acting like this. More than that, though, why did Hyunjin seem so at home here? Someplace so normal looking, unlike where royalty typically stayed, and in the middle of not just any forest, but a haunted one. Deciding to test your luck, you move to get out of bed. Unable to take it any longer, needing to start getting answers before you completely lose your mind. 

“If you’re going to try and sneak out, you should just be aware that my horse doesn’t take kindly to strangers...and I don’t think you want to take another fall like you just had,” Hyunjin speaks calmly, without turning to you though. Only adding to your confusion as you wonder how he picked up on your nearly silent movements.

“I’m not trying to leave........not yet anyways. I want answers first because I’m quite thoroughly confused right now...though I can’t make promises in regards to later.” You respond as you move closer. Hyunjin turns towards you with a slightly scolding look as he moves over to gently pull out a chair for you. 

“I promised you answers. You shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. You could make yourself worse.” Hyunjin tsks softly, his attitude whinier and brat-like though. Him showing you what you more so expected from the spoiled, dark prince.

“Well, I couldn’t rest without answers, so it seems what would be best for both of us would be if you just let me ask now.” You shrug, earning a soft sigh from Hyunjin, who mumbles some excuse about needing to cook, “I won’t interfere with that. Just let me ask, and you can take all the time you need to answer. It’ll put me at ease, though.”

Hyunjin glances over his shoulder at you for a moment, debating with himself before he turns to face you again. Snapping his fingers, the spoon he had been stirring the food with moves on its own now as he steps over. Leaning on the counter across from you and motioning for you to go ahead with your questions. 

“Why do you seem so familiar with this place? It doesn’t seem like the kind of place a prince would consider home...”You’re brows furrow as Hyunjin chuckles quietly, licking his lips.

“Well, as you might have noticed, princess. There are things I can do that humans can’t. Magic I hold, that your kind doesn’t. Just because I have it, though, doesn’t mean that I automatically know how to use it, though. I had to learn. I still have to learn and practice, I never did well in the group, however. I was too volatile.  So every year, I would be sent away to find a place alone to practice. It didn’t matter how long I was gone for as long as I didn’t come back before learning something. I stumbled across this place one year and decided after that to keep coming back here every time as I learned how to control my magic, I was able to make it a little homier.” Hyunjin explains, being what you considered oddly open about his past. Though you appreciated the fact that he was at least seeming genuine with you, despite not being sure what exactly to expect from him, “I’m guessing that’s not all you’re curious about?”

"No, I'm wondering why you're caring for me like this? The wedding isn't my choice after all, so why didn't you just drag me back? Why do you care?" Your question comes out soft-spoken yet bleeding with genuine curiosity, and Hyunjin hums.

"My intent was never to harm you. In fact, under other circumstances, I wouldn't be doing this to you either. I would have tried to get your attention in another way, princess. However, I'm sure you know we can not always do what we want in our positions. For the sake of my people, I will do what I must. I'm sorry if that, in turn, brings you more pain than it already has. I have no desire to be cruel, though." Hyunjin insists, gently reaching out to brush his thumb over your cheek before getting up to physically return to the cooking, "Here, it's done, you should eat before we talk anymore. It'll give you time to process what you've learned so you won't be overwhelmed."

You nod, appreciating the logic at least of what he says, knowing you would have more time while you recovered to question him about other things. Your body was weak from all that your body had faced throughout the day. Humming at the taste of the food, Hyunjin had made, it was already energizing you some and making you feel much better.

"We'll likely stay here at least two days to allow enough time to be sure that your head especially is okay before we start to travel." Hyunjin informs after you finished, moving to help you stand up again, leading you back towards the bedroom, "I'll let you take the bedroom while I'm down here."

"Let me guess if I need anything just call you?" You tease him lightly as you accept his help under the covers again. Having to hold back your giggles as you see his skin flush a light pink.

"Well as I said, I mean you no harm....and in other circumstances, I would have preferred to try and win over your heart instead of this," Hyunjin speaks the quietest he has all day, feeling shy at the admission. He's not impossibly shy, however, as he leans down to kiss your forehead as he tucks you in, "I hope to see you in the morning Y/N."

The way he says your name instead of calling you by a title tugs at your heart. Hearing the yearning in his voice, his feelings seeming genuine. The way Hyunjin was so caring and yet so considerate of your feelings thinking that his own was entirely one-sided, making your heart hurt for him. You're too tired tonight to try and bring him comfort, already drifting off into your world of exhaustion, not able to stay up in an attempt to sneak out even if you felt you needed to. After questioning Hyunjin some, you didn't see the need to try and escape from him. Not understanding the dangers that the others saw in him. His heart, seeming pure, even if the way he went about things wasn't always so innocent. His concern, showing through again the next morning.  When you woke to him bringing you breakfast in bed, helping you to sit up. You watched curiously as he silently left you to eat alone, you taking the privacy to clean yourself up a little as well. Hyunjin is back in the room when you step out of the bathroom again, looking up at you with wide eyes looking over you like he’s checking if you’re okay. 

“I’m fine Hyunjin, nothing to worry about.” You try to reassure him with a small smile, him returning it with a tender smile of his own. He offers you his hand, guiding you to sit on the bed as he stands to bring the medical supplies over beside you.

“I’m going to clean up your head again and just make sure it’s okay,” Hyunjin explains as he reaches out to delicately undo the bandaging he’d put on the night before, not wanting to hurt you or anything. He tries to make quick work of cleaning and rebandaging it. The bandage was already smaller than the day before. His hands shake slightly, though, feeling an odd type of nervous knowing your gaze was on his face the whole time.

“Hyunjin? Do you love me?” You finally find yourself asking the question that’s haunted you since he started to care for you. Hyunjin’s skin flushing brightly at the question blinking at you in shock at the bluntness.

“S-Something like that yes, t-though I know it’s not what you want, princess.” His words are joined with that longing stare once again. His hand, reaching out to brush your hair behind your ear. The sad smile on his face was replaced with surprise as you grab his hand softly in yours before his touch could fade entirely.

“Who says?” You inquire softly, looking into his eyes without hesitation and using your grip to gently tug him closer until you can press your lips to his. Your arms, slipping around his neck to prevent him from running away from the kiss and you.

______________________________________________

You had expected to wake up besides Hyunjin the next morning, after falling asleep in his arms the night before. Something seemed off though when you fully registered what was going on the next morning, and finding an empty bed and the surrounding area eerily quiet, slipping on fresh clothes to quietly peek out of the room to see if Hyunjin was simply cooking breakfast again, which he was. That wasn’t all you noticed, though, a glass orb placed delicately on the counter by Hyunjin and swirling with colors as Hyunjin spoke to it. 

“No, I’m not letting my feelings get the better of me. No matter what my feelings are for the princess, I know what the most important thing here is.” Hyunjin huffs at the little glass piece, your heart sinking as you realize he’s talking about you.

“So she has the map then? You can bring both her and it back so we can finally get on with this?” A woman’s voice echo’s through, making your eyes widen, though there is no face to make out and let you see who it could be.

“She doesn’t, but we need her either way. Besides, the ones with the map will come back for her as soon as they realize I have her again, let them come to us instead of wasting our time searching every hiding spot for them.” Hyunjin shrugs, tasting the food, still unaware of your listening in from the bedroom doorway, only barely peeking out so that you could hide again if necessary.

“Very well, just don’t let your heart jeopardize this after all we’ve done and given up. More than a crush or not, if she gets in the way and you won’t deal with it...then I will.” The woman speaks one last time before the orb stops going. You take that as your cue to slip back into the bedroom. 

Sure, Hyunjin’s feelings for you were apparently genuine, or at the least for the princess form of you. That didn’t make this acceptable, though. He was obviously up to something now, and there was no way around it, and he was willing to use you to lure Chan and Felix right back in and give him what he wanted. That being something that you simply could not allow. You scour through the clothes in the cabin, finding something you can move freely in, before slowly creaking the window open to look outside. You step away to sneak another look at Hyunjin to ensure that he was still occupied with food. Before carefully climbing out the window and closing it behind you. Sneaking off into the woods, worried first about being quiet and not giving yourself away before just bolting. Not entirely sure how you’d find Chan and Felix, but knowing that you certainly couldn’t do it if Hyunjin caught you again. The dazzling blue light, appearing for a third time now. Twirling around you before leading the way off until reaching a small stream and disappearing, leaving you to look around curiously until it flashes before your eyes again and turning into a person, not just any person though...you’d finally found Jisung.

A dragon hoard (part 2)

on AO3

part 1

When he opened his eyes, he was still in the same room. Still alive. But something had changed. The room was perfectly clean and clothes had been laid on a chair. This meant there were humans in the castle. Humans working, willingly or not, for the dragon. They could either help him escape or prevent him from doing so. He would have to be wary of them.

The pants were simple black slack, a bit short for him but still comfortable. They came with a dark green tunic that brought out the color of his eyes. Both were far warmer than his previous outfit, but not made to survive in the freezing weather. Plus they didn't give him new shoes and the fancy one he was wearing wouldn't support a trek through the mountains, especially if he had to walk for a few weeks.

Once he had changed, he tiptoed to the door and put his ears against the hard wood. He could hear movement from the other side. The noises were pretty faint so whatever it was, did not stand outside his room. As much as he had been careful, the door had creaked when he opened it. He headed toward the source of the noises that seemed to come from the other end of the corridor.

All the doors were opened, people bustling around carrying fresh sheets, dusting the furniture, washing the windows, waxing the floor and oiling the door seal. They were at least six of them in this part of the castle, apparently to make it liveable again. But why ? Did they live there too ? Had the Dragon abducted them ? If they had been kidnapped, how long ago had it happened for them to renounce to escape and resigned themselves to live here ? He stood there watching them dumbfounded until one of them noticed him.

A middle age woman dressed in a typical maid outfit looked up at him and offered him a sweet smile : "You're finally awake, boy ! Come with me, you must be starving ! Timothy told me you had had nothing to eat since you arrived."

Without a pause, she grabbed his arm drug him down the stairs to lead him to the kitchen. The smell hit him as soon as he entered the room. He had not eaten in more than a day and the sight of eggs cooking in the pan and the smell of freshly baked bread made him salivate. But Damian was a prince, he would be undignified for him to rush to the food.

The woman had still a hand on his arm and pushed onto a chair. Right after that, a young boy with wild red hair placed a plate in front of him, glancing at him timidly from behind his locks. They were all eyeing him curiously, in a more obvious way for some of them. He was probably the reaction each time a new face appeared. Or maybe they could tell who he was ? The one that had cleaned the room he had slept in might have seen his clothes and deduced he was royalty, or at least a noble.

He had started to pick at his food when a man in his sixties sat down in front of him offering him gentle smile.

"I guess that you have a lot of question about this place and why you are here ?" Damian simply nodded to show the man he had his attention. "I was born in this castle, my parents worked here for Mr.Drake and his wife. I have never met her, she left his husband before my birth. She couldn't stand him as he had become bitter as the years passed. They had a son, Jack, that liked to go explore the world. He was rarely home from what I remember so when his father, Mr. Drake, disappeared, he dismissed all the persons that worked and lived here. Then, two decades ago, rumors of him being back spread. Rumors that proved to be true. He was back but not alone, he was accompanied by a...woman and their child. They didn't stay long. They basically just dropped their baby and left. Their son, Timothy regularly came to the villages close to the mountain. Not just for food but for knowledge too. He was a very curious kid. And as he became older, he started to hoard knowledge. That why we are here. We are part of his hoard. All of us, me and you as well."

"Hoard ? Are you insinuating that this Timothy is a Dragon ?"

The old man let out a little laugh at that : "I guess that most people that have never seen one with their own eyes rarely believe in their existence. But, yes the Drakes are Dragons."

"The Drakes as in the noble family ?"

"Ah yes, the curse of the Drake family ! We have all heard of it. Truly, I don't know more than you if it is legend or reality. He could be. Or he could be tale born from Mr. Drake human name and familiarity with humans. Most don't think that Dragon can be as intelligent as humans, don't think that beast could take an interest in our civilization unless they are themselves part of it or at least used to."

Damian had still difficulties believing the man. Dragons had never been a thing he had believed in. He probably still would have doubts until being face to face with the creature in broad daylight to accept their existence. And anyway, what kind of name for a dragon was "Timothy"? It was more sweet than intimidating.

"Have you tried to escape ?"

"Escape ?" The old man burst into a loud laughter, his entire fragile frame shaking. "I have never lived more comfortably than now, we all do. Why would any of us want to leave ? We were authorized to bring our family. Their nothing more for us in the villages down the mountain."

"Well there is for me and I don't intend to stay here."

"Then let us give you better clothes for this weather."

"You're helping me ?"

"It would be a shame if you died before Timothy brought you back. Because he will."

The old man insisted he finished eating while the boy fetched boots and a fur coat for him. He didn't care that the man thought he would not manage to reach Gotham, he would try. He had to. He wasn't one to give up so easily. So by noon, he was out of the castle with his new outfits and non-perishable food offered by the cooks. They didn't bother with wishing him a safe travel, all convinced he would be back in no time but they still gave him a map so he could go in the right direction. He was a bit suspicious of it, they could easily offer the same information to the Dragon so he would find him quickly. But he hadn't much of a choice : it was either that or wander haphazardly in the wild lands.

The first hours, he swallowed kilometers with a steady and fast pace, helped by the afternoon sun. He could probably go for one more hour but after that he would have to start looking for shelter. Passing the night outside would be suicide. The cold could easily take him and if he made a fire it would probably attract predators. So it would be either die of hypothermia or be eaten alive by wolves.

As luck didn't seem to be on Damian side for the past two days, it began to snow. At first, it was just a few snowflakes that melted almost immediately. But soon his vision was obstructed and he could barely perceive the trees surrounding him. He had spotted an excavation a bit earlier. He didn't like to have to turn back, but it was the safest solution. He had no guarantee it would stumble upon another shelter before it was too late.

The inside of the cave was dry, protected from the snow and the wind. But the cold had managed to sneak inside. The entry was narrow enough that he didn't worry much about animals. Nonetheless, he was still frozen to the bone. He put off his wet clothes with trembling fingers, he wrapped himself in the thick blankets he had been given by the castle inhabitants. He fell asleep curled up on the hard ground, shivering.

It was still dark when he opened his eyes once again. He couldn't see anything, but he could hear something against the stones at the cave entry, as if something was trying to come in. He wanted to get up, to be ready to face up against whatever the threat was.

He realized at this instant that in his haste, he hadn't thought to ask for a weapon. Not that it would matter right now as he couldn't even move. His whole body was numb and he could barely move, even less fight. The sound of stones shifting and hitting the ground seemed to grow louder as time passed. Damian was still trying to will his body to move when the heap of rock blocking the cave opening broke down under his assailant onslaught.

Soon the creature was in the cave, his breathing echoing against the wall. Whatever it was, the beast was massive. Damian couldn't tell what it looked like, it was too dark for that. Yet it wasn't hard to guess that the old man had been right. The dragon had found him.

part 3

TDDUP My thoughts on Aria

Doing one of these for each of the 5 stars in TDDUP (yes, even the ladies).  This is incredibly subjective, so I decided not to call this a review.  Rant sounds too negative to me, it’s more a mix of gushing and analysis here.  Anyways, MAJOR SPOILERS ahead because I may talk about stuff not revealed until the very end of a play through.  In fact I’m probably going to talk in a way that just assumes the person reading this has completed TDDUP.  Kinda like, “Oh I won’t give the whole story of this scene because you know what I’m talking about.”  Without delay, let’s talk about Aria.

Alright, I’ll get right to the point on this one:  Aria scares me.  In the BTD series and TDDUP, there are a lot of scary characters who do horrible things.  And honestly, I’ve been pretty good with all the characters.  I kind of think of it at times like when I went to see the new 2017 “It” movie.  The only thing that scared me in that film were the brief jump scares.  The rest of the time, it was just exciting to watch (gets your adrenaline pumping).  I loved the movie!  I definitely would not categorize it as anything but horror, but I was having fun watching the events unfold.  It’s not like the subject matter is light-hearted either.  So I guess I kind of always thought of the BTD and TDDUP characters like that.

You know that disclaimer about the beginning of these games though?  The one that mentions “This game was built to thrill,” and “If you’re feeling overwhelmed, close the game and take a break?”  Aria is the ONLY character in the entire series the made me physically take a break from the game to get my composure back.  I could not go back to her route or the game at all for several hours (and this was when I was all hyped up after the release).  These games are a choice to do and I really encourage people to take their time and not push their boundaries to an area that’s beyond their comfort level.

I did manage to recover and actually got all of Aria’s endings.  But I don’t think I will ever be able to play her route again.  It’s funny, we’ve had endings and characters involving snuff films, getting your head sawed off, being burned alive, getting ripped apart, having your soul stolen, getting turned into a living doll, getting shot, being dismembered, being left to die alone in a creepy forest, being forced to eat yourself, getting eaten (which happens more often than you think in these games), being boiled alive, being beaten to death, being chained up, being forced to observe necrophilia, being mind broken, being caged, and having insects put in your ears just to name a few.  All that stuff?  Been fine with.  The endings for me have ranged from being “meh” to “oooh that was so dark I love it.”  Not to mention I start to embarrassingly even gush over some characters (especially a certain yandere *sweats*).

But go figure that the one person to freak me out, is not only one of the completely human characters, but probably the one who...is the least threating honestly.  There is no way Aria could take on ANY of the other cast with the exception of maybe Ellen (only because...I don’t know who’d win in a fight, they’re really different).

First off, I guess I need to say what DOESN’T bother me about Aria before anyone starts to think anything: the incest angle.  To be perfectly honest, I feel pretty neutral about her having feelings for her brother.  Actually from a story standpoint it kind of helps a little better for her to have that to explain why she goes so far.  Because when I think about it, if she didn’t have those forbidden feelings, she’d come off as overprotective of her brother still yes...but I think this gives her character a better dark edge believe it or not.  Incest in real life, not a fan of.  Incest in fiction though I have a different view entirely.  I have both shipped incest pairings, as well as cringed and nearly vomited at them in fiction.  The problem is I can’t distinguish what causes me exactly to ship or hate an incest pairing.  I’ve tried to write the notes down, but there’s really no consistent criteria.  All I know is it STRICTLY depends on the the characters themselves and I think how it affects the story.  In this case, I don’t really feel like Aria and Chris would make a good pair, but I think Aria having feelings for Chris gives her more character.

So then what does bother me?  One ending.  ONE ending out of all five shook my core and made me legitimately afraid of this character:  “Aria walled you in.”

It’s weird because I’m not claustrophobic, though I do cringe at the thought of someone sewing a person’s mouth shut.  But this ending really managed to get under my skin and I had to think for awhile why exactly.  Horror is indeed meant to scare you, and I finally found something that did scare me in these games.  But it not only scared me, but disturbed me.

I think the key here is the entire scenario for the route.  Remember, the MC in Chris’s path is a verbally abusive spouse, and Aria is a VERY mad sister-in-law.  She’s there to give you your comeuppance.  So while Chris was violent, Aria tortures you while keeping you in her basement.  MC starts to realize towards the end of the path that what they’ve done to Chris is wrong, and they want to make things right.  The thing is though when you look at all of Aria’s endings...she never planned to let you redeem yourself from the very start.  The only ending where she doesn’t kill you...she sells you (fun fact: I actually liked this ending because it’s a tie in to Gurobob’s “The Hunt” game for the future- so cool!).  Chris in his endings, if he doesn’t get furious and kill you...either leaves you alone (sometimes even turns HIMSELF in) or you compromise.  This is what makes Chris a good person (just the violent snap was a bad decision).

However, I think the kicker with the ending where Aria walls you in, is the fact that you hear Chris and her talking upstairs.  You’re listening to him moving on without you and the two of them laughing happily.  Meanwhile, your mouth is sewed up, and you’re left trapped in the walls of the basement.  Aria’s not coming back to torture you.  As far as she’s concerned, it’s better if you just disappear.  So you have to spend the rest of your days, unable to scream, unable to move, listening to Chris and Aria live happily without you there.  You can never apologize to Chris.  Inevitably you’ll die of starvation and/or dehydration.

This ending doesn’t just scare me for the claustrophobia and the “I have no mouth but I must scream” trope; It’s disturbing because it’s also very sad.  Someone finally told you off for your behavior all those years, gave you your punishment, and then you are left to die.  And this is where you have to ask the question:  Did the MC indeed deserve this fate?  It’s actually a question that scares me to think about because I’m not sure I know the answer to it.  Is it pretentious to think that I as the MC would be entitled to fix my mistakes after years of abuse to Chris?  Or is there indeed a limit to how far a person like Aria should go when someone has hurt their loved one?

I think the key here is WHO is giving you punishment: Chris vs. Aria.  You have Chris, who has been the victim in all of this and is a very sweet guy.  He gets violent when he snaps, but can realize his mistake later.  Aria is not the direct victim here but a sister who cares very deeply to her brother (too deeply even).  Of course most people like Aria would want to smack Chris’s spouse in the face.  But is she entitled to kidnap and torture you?  I don’t know...The problem here is I actually don’t know all that much about Aria as a character.  She loves her brother a lot, and she helped Marcus out with his divorce because he was a friend of Chris’s.  So she’s good and loyal to some.  She’s also incredibly smart.  Beyond that though, how does Aria even act around the average every day person?  Is she like Marcus, who is “generally” a good person and a good cop, just one minor flaw (his obsessive love with MC).  Or is Aria actually more of a cruel, even sadistic, person naturally?  That’s not stuff we learn about, so it really makes me wonder if she’s the type of character that deserves to torture you.

When all is said and done though, I need to thank ElectricPuke here.  Of course Aria scares me legitimately and she’s my least favorite character in the series because of it.  But I’m really glad she’s there actually.  Listen, these are all FICTIONAL characters.  No one needs to really get up in arms about who likes what kind of dark material as long as it’s enjoyed in a safe manner (and the atrocities are not replicated in real life).  As long as people know their own boundaries and don’t push others into something they don’t enjoy, everyone can coexist peacefully.  Creating a villain character doesn’t making you a villain either (If it does, we might need to keep an eye on Stephen King :P).  There was a tiny part of me going through these games though that wondered “Gee, there’s a lot I let slide in fiction.  Is this still sane or healthy?”  So when Aria actually spooked me, I felt better.  It’s good to know that yes, I do have limitations.  They’re not easily apparent, and this game caught me off guard by the scenario.  But it’s nice to see I can recognize a stopping point for myself.

Please be respectful then to people who say “Character A in TDDUP I love, but I’m afraid of Character B.”  Everyone has their own tastes and their own thresholds.  Sometimes for reasons they can’t even explain.  By the way, I’d bet good money that Jack freaked out the most people for his hobby :P

So yeah if you read this post vs. the one I wrote about Marcus...completely opposite ends of the spectrum here, haha.  Also like Marcus, I’m not sure if I can probably judge if Aria is a good character or not because I’m so afraid of her.  I don’t hear people talk about Aria or Ellen as much as the guys, so I don’t know what the general public thinks either.  I’d be curious if people actually liked Aria and thought she stuck it to the MC well, or if people got creeped out like I did.

For any future games likes these, just remember to watch the warnings guys!  Enjoy yourself, but don’t push yourself.  I’m still looking forward to more of Puke’s character’s for sure.

Only one more character to go now!  

Review under the break (will contain spoilers)

Museum: A Serial Killer Is Laughing In The Rain is the live action adaption of the manga with the same name. To start out, I had never heard of the manga until I was doing research on this movie after I watched it. The manga came out in 2013 and this film came out in 2016, so I’m a little late on this bandwagon. But no time like the present to get to watch a thriller with an artistic killer.

Synopsis: The film starts with the second to be victim: some lazy NEET that only provides connections to the first victim later. This is where we see our killer for the first time too, in his frog mask glory. By whatever way, Frog Man captures the NEET and ties him up in a field somewhere. Some bad stuff goes down.

But we don’t get to see it until later, now we watch the police department go over the evidence of the first murder victim. “Dog Food Penalty”, where the victim was tied up and bitten/eaten to death by vicious dogs. They talk to the boyfriend and find out that the penalty related to the fact she had to give up her dog because her boyfriend was allergic, but all in all she was a very nice lady. So what the hell? Between this, we also get insight to to Detective Sawamura’s family life. Apparently, his wife recently left home with their son because Sawamura cares more about his job than his family’s wellbeing.

Soon after they discover the corpse of NEET man, who has had been skinned with his baby weight matched by the skin taken off, “Mother’s Pain Penalty”. The police force soon tries to find a connection of the two killings, and they soon do. Both were jurors of a case of “Girl in Resin” along with Sawamura’s wife. They take this as a major lead and begin contacting the judges and jurors apart of the case. Sawamura is taken off due to his personal connection to the case.

The “Girl in Resin” case ended with the suspect being guilty and him taking his life. Expecting this to be a revenge killing for the murderer. Sawamura goes off looking for his wife, who he suspected to be with a friend so he went to her apartment. The boyfriend said she was at work at the hospital nearby and they left accordingly. After explaining the situation to the friend she admits that the wife is staying at her place. After a bit, the friend explains that she lives alone and has no boyfriend (dun dun DUN). Turns out the pretend boyfriend was the killer and has now kidnapped the wife and son.

More people get killed in more horrific ways, and while out with his subordinate, the killer approaches them and the detectives chase after them. Sawamura finds him on the rooftop of a building holding his friend by the necktie. The killer explains that he was the “Girl in Resin” killer and is pissed he didn’t get the recognition he deserved as an artist. Frog Man kills the subordinate after the sun come out and has to scratch himself. This leads to more evidence of the killer.

Sawamura, now an renegade, goes to investigate on his own of “allergic to the sun people” and their severity. After visiting a allergen hospital, he threatens the head doctor to give him the name of the person who gets allergic just looking at the sun. Getting the name he travels to go get his wife and son back. But worse comes to worse, he gets trapped in the basement. He is forced to solve a puzzle connecting to his family and is fed mysterious burgers of unknown origin. After solving the puzzle, the missing pieces spelled out eat on a picture of his family, he opens the door to a butcher area where he opens the refrigerator door to the heads of his wife and son. He has been eating their bodies this whole time!

Plot twist, he hasn’t. It was just a ploy to weaken his spirit. The wife and son are still alive and held hostage of our killer. The killer then explains that if Haruka, the wife, wants to save her son she has to be killed by her husband dressed in the frog costume. She hurriedly agrees and trades places with him while they’re being chased. Sawamura though, about to shoot his wife thinking she’s the killer, finds out it’s her and apologies about being a horrible father and husband. Frog Man shows up and is pissed no one has gotten killed yet. He holds Shota at gun point and threats to pull the trigger if the wife isn’t killed soon. After a tagged on plot point with Sawamura’s father, he pleads for himself to be killed for his family to be left alone. Just after he is shot in the leg by accident, the police force shows up and the killer is given his tragic backstory of being the survivor of the murdering of his parents. Sawamura is safe and his family life is going great. Killer is placed in the hospital for care after being exposed to sunlight for too long and another plot twist is stated. He wasn’t the only survivor of the murders of his parents of childhood, he had a twin sister. The very same head doctor of the allergen hospital is his sister. She kills him as ridding the world of his evil. It cuts back to Sawamura finally putting his family first and shows up for Shota’s marathon. The camera then takes the angle through Sawamura’s camera and reveals Shota is showing signs of being allergic to sunlight.

The movie then cuts to blacks.

Sentence synopsis: Artistic killer and detective fight to overcome struggles of family issues. OR Childhood murder trauma leads to being allergic to light, a probable common thread in most serial killers now I guess.

This movie is amazing in the most stupidest way. It has some good parts, the “EAT” almost made me retch, and the reveal of the killer’s face was priceless on how well done the make up is. I watched this film on the way to Japan, finding it only out of pure luck on a 14 hour flight. I’m so glad I found it, the characters are interesting and the acting from each actor was amazing. The father story was a bit too obviously tagged on, showing us a reason why Sawamura was going to take the bullet. But he doesn’t need such a convoluted reason when his son is involved, it’s his son!

Overall rating: 6.4/10, watched it for the interesting take on killings, stay for the actor’s portrayal of each piece of dialogue (and that really cool car scene chase, so amazing and suspenseful)  

26 Out in the hall, I find Paylor standing in exactly the same spot. "Did you find what you were looking for?" she asks. I hold up the white bud in answer and then stumble past her. I must have made it back to my room, because the next thing I know, I'm filling a glass with water from the bathroom faucet and sticking the rose in it. I sink to my knees on the cold tile and squint at the flower, as the whiteness seems hard to focus on in the stark fluorescent light. My finger catches the inside of my bracelet, twisting it like a tourniquet, hurting my wrist. I'm hoping the pain will help me hang on to reality the way it did for Peeta. I must hang on. I must know the truth about what has happened. There are two possibilities, although the details associated with them may vary. First, as I've believed, that the Capitol sent in that hovercraft, dropped the parachutes, and sacrificed its children's lives, knowing the recently arrived rebels would go to their aid. There's evidence to support this. The Capitol's seal on the hovercraft, the lack of any attempt to blow the enemy out of the sky, and their long history of using children as pawns in their battle against the districts. Then there's Snow's account. That a Capitol hovercraft manned by rebels bombed the children to bring a speedy end to the war. But if this was the case, why didn't the Capitol fire on the enemy? Did the element of surprise throw them? Had they no defenses left? Children are precious to 13, or so it has always seemed. Well, not me, maybe. Once I had outlived my usefulness, I was expendable. Although I think it's been a long time since I've been considered a child in this war. And why would they do it knowing their own medics would likely respond and be taken out by the second blast? They wouldn't. They couldn't. Snow's lying. Manipulating me as he always has. Hoping to turn me against the rebels and possibly destroy them. Yes. Of course. Then what's nagging at me? Those double-exploding bombs, for one. It's not that the Capitol couldn't have the same weapon, it's just that I'm sure the rebels did. Gale and Beetee's brainchild. Then there's the fact that Snow made no escape attempt, when I know him to be the consummate survivor. It seems hard to believe he didn't have a retreat somewhere, some bunker stocked with provisions where he could live out the rest of his snaky little life. And finally, there's his assessment of Coin. What's irrefutable is that she's done exactly what he said. Let the Capitol and the districts run one another into the ground and then sauntered in to take power. Even if that was her plan, it doesn't mean she dropped those parachutes. Victory was already in her grasp. Everything was in her grasp. Except me. I recall Boggs's response when I admitted I hadn't put much thought into Snow's successor. "If your immediate answer isn't Coin, then you're a threat. You're the face of the rebellion. You may have more influence than any other single person. Outwardly, the most you've ever done is tolerated her." Suddenly, I'm thinking of Prim, who was not yet fourteen, not yet old enough to be granted the title of soldier, but somehow working on the front lines. How did such a thing happen? That my sister would have wanted to be there, I have no doubt. That she would be more capable than many older than she is a given. But for all that, someone very high up would have had to approve putting a thirteen-year-old in combat. Did Coin do it, hoping that losing Prim would push me completely over the edge? Or, at least, firmly on her side? I wouldn't even have had to witness it in person. Numerous cameras would be covering the City Circle. Capturing the moment forever. No, now I am going crazy, slipping into some state of paranoia. Too many people would know of the mission. Word would get out. Or would it? Who would have to know besides Coin, Plutarch, and a small, loyal or easily disposable crew? I badly need help working this out, only everyone I trust is dead. Cinna. Boggs. Finnick. Prim. There's Peeta, but he couldn't do any more than speculate, and who knows what state his mind's in, anyway. And that leaves only Gale. He's far away, but even if he were beside me, could I confide in him? What could I say, how could I phrase it, without implying that it was his bomb that killed Prim? The impossibility of that idea, more than any, is why Snow must be lying. Ultimately, there's only one person to turn to who might know what happened and might still be on my side. To broach the subject at all will be a risk. But while I think Haymitch might gamble with my life in the arena, I don't think he'd rat me out to Coin. Whatever problems we may have with each other, we prefer resolving our differences one-on-one. I scramble off the tiles, out the door, and across the hall to his room. When there's no response to my knock, I push inside. Ugh. It's amazing how quickly he can defile a space. Half-eaten plates of food, shattered liquor bottles, and pieces of broken furniture from a drunken rampage scatter his quarters. He lies, unkempt and unwashed, in a tangle of sheets on the bed, passed out. "Haymitch," I say, shaking his leg. Of course, that's insufficient. But I give it a few more tries before I dump the pitcher of water in his face. He comes to with a gasp, slashing blindly with his knife. Apparently, the end of Snow's reign didn't equal the end of his terror. "Oh. You," he says. I can tell by his voice that he's still loaded. "Haymitch," I begin. "Listen to that. The Mockingjay found her voice." He laughs. "Well, Plutarch's going to be happy." He takes a swig from a bottle. "Why am I soaking wet?" I lamely drop the pitcher behind me into a pile of dirty clothes. "I need your help," I say. Haymitch belches, filling the air with white liquor fumes. "What is it, sweetheart? More boy trouble?" I don't know why, but this hurts me in a way Haymitch rarely can. It must show on my face, because even in his drunken state, he tries to take it back. "Okay, not funny." I'm already at the door. "Not funny! Come back!" By the thud of his body hitting the floor, I assume he tried to follow me, but there's no point. I zigzag through the mansion and disappear into a wardrobe full of silken things. I yank them from hangers until I have a pile and then burrow into it. In the lining of my pocket, I find a stray morphling tablet and swallow it dry, heading off my rising hysteria. It's not enough to right things, though. I hear Haymitch calling me in the distance, but he won't find me in his condition. Especially not in this new spot. Swathed in silk, I feel like a caterpillar in a cocoon awaiting metamorphosis. I always supposed that to be a peaceful condition. At first it is. But as I journey into night, I feel more and more trapped, suffocated by the slippery bindings, unable to emerge until I have transformed into something of beauty. I squirm, trying to shed my ruined body and unlock the secret to growing flawless wings. Despite enormous effort, I remain a hideous creature, fired into my current form by the blast from the bombs. The encounter with Snow opens the door to my old repertoire of nightmares. It's like being stung by tracker jackers again. A wave of horrifying images with a brief respite I confuse with waking - only to find another wave knocking me back. When the guards finally locate me, I'm sitting on the floor of the wardrobe, tangled in silk, screaming my head off. I fight them at first, until they convince me they're trying to help, peel away the choking garments, and escort me back to my room. On the way, we pass a window and I see a gray, snowy dawn spreading across the Capitol. A very hungover Haymitch waits with a handful of pills and a tray of food that neither of us has the stomach for. He makes a feeble attempt to get me to talk again but, seeing it's pointless, sends me to a bath someone has drawn. The tub's deep, with three steps to the bottom. I ease down into the warm water and sit, up to my neck in suds, hoping the medicines kick in soon. My eyes focus on the rose that has spread its petals overnight, filling the steamy air with its strong perfume. I rise and reach for a towel to smother it, when there's a tentative knock and the bathroom door opens, revealing three familiar faces. They try to smile at me, but even Venia can't conceal her shock at my ravaged mutt body. "Surprise!" Octavia squeaks, and then bursts into tears. I'm puzzling over their reappearance when I realize that this must be it, the day of the execution. They've come to prep me for the cameras. Remake me to Beauty Base Zero. No wonder Octavia's crying. It's an impossible task. They can barely touch my patchwork of skin for fear of hurting me, so I rinse and dry off myself. I tell them I hardly notice the pain anymore, but Flavius still winces as he drapes a robe around me. In the bedroom, I find another surprise. Sitting upright in a chair. Polished from her metallic gold wig to her patent leather high heels, gripping a clipboard. Remarkably unchanged except for the vacant look in her eyes. "Effie," I say. "Hello, Katniss." She stands and kisses me on the cheek as if nothing has occurred since our last meeting, the night before the Quarter Quell. "Well, it looks like we've got another big, big, big day ahead of us. So why don't you start your prep and I'll just pop over and check on the arrangements." "Okay," I say to her back. "They say Plutarch and Haymitch had a hard time keeping her alive," comments Venia under her breath. "She was imprisoned after your escape, so that helps." It's quite a stretch. Effie Trinket, rebel. But I don't want Coin killing her, so I make a mental note to present her that way if asked. "I guess it's good Plutarch kidnapped you three after all." "We're the only prep team still alive. And all the stylists from the Quarter Quell are dead," says Venia. She doesn't say who specifically killed them. I'm beginning to wonder if it matters. She gingerly takes one of my scarred hands and holds it out for inspection. "Now, what do you think for the nails? Red or maybe a jet black?" Flavius performs some beauty miracle on my hair, managing to even out the front while getting some of the longer locks to hide the bald spots in the back. My face, since it was spared from the flames, presents no more than the usual challenges. Once I'm in Cinna's Mockingjay suit, the only scars visible are on my neck, forearms, and hands. Octavia secures my Mockingjay pin over my heart and we step back to look in the mirror. I can't believe how normal they've made me look on the outside when inwardly I'm such a wasteland. There's a tap at the door and Gale steps in. "Can I have a minute?" he asks. In the mirror, I watch my prep team. Unsure of where to go, they bump into one another a few times and then closet themselves in the bathroom. Gale comes up behind me and we examine each other's reflection. I'm searching for something to hang on to, some sign of the girl and boy who met by chance in the woods five years ago and became inseparable. I'm wondering what would have happened to them if the Hunger Games had not reaped the girl. If she would have fallen in love with the boy, married him even. And sometime in the future, when the brothers and sisters had been raised up, escaped with him into the woods and left 12 behind forever. Would they have been happy, out in the wild, or would the dark, twisted sadness between them have grown up even without the Capitol's help? "I brought you this." Gale holds up a sheath. When I take it, I notice it holds a single, ordinary arrow. "It's supposed to be symbolic. You firing the last shot of the war." "What if I miss?" I say. "Does Coin retrieve it and bring it back to me? Or just shoot Snow through the head herself?" "You won't miss." Gale adjusts the sheath on my shoulder. We stand there, face-to-face, not meeting each other's eyes. "You didn't come see me in the hospital." He doesn't answer, so finally I just say it. "Was it your bomb?" "I don't know. Neither does Beetee," he says. "Does it matter? You'll always be thinking about it." He waits for me to deny it; I want to deny it, but it's true. Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feel the heat of the flames. And I will never be able to separate that moment from Gale. My silence is my answer. "That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family," he says. "Shoot straight, okay?" He touches my cheek and leaves. I want to call him back and tell him that I was wrong. That I'll figure out a way to make peace with this. To remember the circumstances under which he created the bomb. Take into account my own inexcusable crimes. Dig up the truth about who dropped the parachutes. Prove it wasn't the rebels. Forgive him. But since I can't, I'll just have to deal with the pain. Effie comes in to usher me to some kind of meeting. I collect my bow and at the last minute remember the rose, glistening in its glass of water. When I open the door to the bathroom, I find my prep team sitting in a row on the edge of the tub, hunched and defeated. I remember I'm not the only one whose world has been stripped away. "Come on," I tell them. "We've got an audience waiting." I'm expecting a production meeting in which Plutarch instructs me where to stand and gives me my cue for shooting Snow. Instead, I find myself sent into a room where six people sit around a table. Peeta, Johanna, Beetee, Haymitch, Annie, and Enobaria. They all wear the gray rebel uniforms from 13. No one looks particularly well. "What's this?" I say. "We're not sure," Haymitch answers. "It appears to be a gathering of the remaining victors." "We're all that's left?" I ask. "The price of celebrity," says Beetee. "We were targeted from both sides. The Capitol killed the victors they suspected of being rebels. The rebels killed those thought to be allied with the Capitol." Johanna scowls at Enobaria. "So what's she doing here?" "She is protected under what we call the Mockingjay Deal," says Coin as she enters behind me. "Wherein Katniss Everdeen agreed to support the rebels in exchange for captured victors' immunity. Katniss has upheld her side of the bargain, and so shall we." Enobaria smiles at Johanna. "Don't look so smug," says Johanna. "We'll kill you anyway." "Sit down, please, Katniss," says Coin, closing the door. I take a seat between Annie and Beetee, carefully placing Snow's rose on the table. As usual, Coin gets right to the point. "I've asked you here to settle a debate. Today we will execute Snow. In the previous weeks, hundreds of his accomplices in the oppression of Panem have been tried and now await their own deaths. However, the suffering in the districts has been so extreme that these measures appear insufficient to the victims. In fact, many are calling for a complete annihilation of those who held Capitol citizenship. However, in the interest of maintaining a sustainable population, we cannot afford this." Through the water in the glass, I see a distorted image of one of Peeta's hands. The burn marks. We are both fire mutts now. My eyes travel up to where the flames licked across his forehead, singeing away his brows but just missing his eyes. Those same blue eyes that used to meet mine and then flit away at school. Just as they do now. "So, an alternative has been placed on the table. Since my colleagues and I can come to no consensus, it has been agreed that we will let the victors decide. A majority of four will approve the plan. No one may abstain from the vote," says Coin. "What has been proposed is that in lieu of eliminating the entire Capitol population, we have a final, symbolic Hunger Games, using the children directly related to those who held the most power." All seven of us turn to her. "What?" says Johanna. "We hold another Hunger Games using Capitol children," says Coin. "Are you joking?" asks Peeta. "No. I should also tell you that if we do hold the Games, it will be known it was done with your approval, although the individual breakdown of your votes will be kept secret for your own security," Coin tells us. "Was this Plutarch's idea?" asks Haymitch. "It was mine," says Coin. "It seemed to balance the need for vengeance with the least loss of life. You may cast your votes." "No!" bursts out Peeta. "I vote no, of course! We can't have another Hunger Games!" "Why not?" Johanna retorts. "It seems very fair to me. Snow even has a granddaughter. I vote yes." "So do I," says Enobaria, almost indifferently. "Let them have a taste of their own medicine." "This is why we rebelled! Remember?" Peeta looks at the rest of us. "Annie?" "I vote no with Peeta," she says. "So would Finnick if he were here." "But he isn't, because Snow's mutts killed him," Johanna reminds her. "No," says Beetee. "It would set a bad precedent. We have to stop viewing one another as enemies. At this point, unity is essential for our survival. No." "We're down to Katniss and Haymitch," says Coin. Was it like this then? Seventy-five years or so ago? Did a group of people sit around and cast their votes on initiating the Hunger Games? Was there dissent? Did someone make a case for mercy that was beaten down by the calls for the deaths of the districts' children? The scent of Snow's rose curls up into my nose, down into my throat, squeezing it tight with despair. All those people I loved, dead, and we are discussing the next Hunger Games in an attempt to avoid wasting life. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change now. I weigh my options carefully, think everything through. Keeping my eyes on the rose, I say, "I vote yes...for Prim." "Haymitch, it's up to you," says Coin. A furious Peeta hammers Haymitch with the atrocity he could become party to, but I can feel Haymitch watching me. This is the moment, then. When we find out exactly just how alike we are, and how much he truly understands me. "I'm with the Mockingjay," he says. "Excellent. That carries the vote," says Coin. "Now we really must take our places for the execution." As she passes me, I hold up the glass with the rose. "Can you see that Snow's wearing this? Just over his heart?" Coin smiles. "Of course. And I'll make sure he knows about the Games." "Thank you," I say. People sweep into the room, surround me. The last touch of powder, the instructions from Plutarch as I'm guided to the front doors of the mansion. The City Circle runs over, spills people down the side streets. The others take their places outside. Guards. Officials. Rebel leaders. Victors. I hear the cheers that indicate Coin has appeared on the balcony. Then Effie taps my shoulder, and I step out into the cold winter sunlight. Walk to my position, accompanied by the deafening roar of the crowd. As directed, I turn so they see me in profile, and wait. When they march Snow out the door, the audience goes insane. They secure his hands behind a post, which is unnecessary. He's not going anywhere. There's nowhere to go. This is not the roomy stage before the Training Center but the narrow terrace in front of the president's mansion. No wonder no one bothered to have me practice. He's ten yards away. I feel the bow purring in my hand. Reach back and grasp the arrow. Position it, aim at the rose, but watch his face. He coughs and a bloody dribble runs down his chin. His tongue flicks over his puffy lips. I search his eyes for the slightest sign of anything, fear, remorse, anger. But there's only the same look of amusement that ended our last conversation. It's as if he's speaking the words again. "Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other." He's right. We did. The point of my arrow shifts upward. I release the string. And President Coin collapses over the side of the balcony and plunges to the ground. Dead.

The Halloween List: A Quiet Place, Emelie, and Hereditary

I'm kicking off The Halloween List this year with one of my favorite hidden gems, and two of the biggest Horror movies of 2018. 2018 has been so long that it's easy to forget A Quiet Place even came out back in April, right?

All three of these films attack the family in very different ways. A Quiet Place is about family surviving in a country that's destroyed; Emelie is about a family that thinks it's safe until they hire the wrong babysitter; and Hereditary is about a family haunting itself. Each is powerful, but which kind of conflict is the most effective on you?

A Quiet Place (2018)

I have been waiting a damned long time for A Quiet Place. Horror has a troubling history of relegating disabled characters to the roles of villains. I wrote about that phenomenon for Fireside Magazine last year. You can take solace in the well-meaning portrayals of Wait Until Dark and Silver Bullet, but those are moves with abled actors cripping it up, and screenplays that pander. They could never get beneath the surface.

Millicent Simmonds is a deaf actor, and she’s the emotional core of this movie. She plays Regan, the oldest child in one of the few families to survive an invasion of monsters. The monsters hunt on sound; they can hear a toy space ship from miles away, and be there in seconds. Regan has saved the family, because since they all know ASL, they know how to communicate and live without speaking. They walk into town to scavenge on paths of sand to quiet their footsteps. They have adapted.

What’s even more rewarding about this disability rep is that Regan isn’t defined by her disability. If a monster is coming, she can’t hear it behind her, but that’s a peril of a moment, not a constant agony. Regan is defined by her grief that she thinks she was responsible for the loss of a younger sibling, and she has some very creative ways of expressing that. It’s not grief about being disabled, or grief that makes her curse it. This is a relief in contrast to a hundred movies about disabled people who curse being trapped in wheelchairs, or wish they could see the sunrise. Disabled people are going to live lives, and regret openly, not narrowly. A Quiet Place gets this.

The movie is strongly constructed, naturally never giving us an exposition dump on where the monsters came from, or how life has been. We can tell what their lives are like by what they keep around the house, and what chores we see them do. It’s at its best when there’s minimal music, letting us sit in the same terrified silence as the family. They have a baby on the way that won’t be easy to deliver in this world, and the kids are restless to live bigger lives. We see them pushing against the boundaries forced on them with a healthy naturalism.

At under 90 minutes, the movie is tight and knows what it wants to do at all times. Its big set pieces, like the kids falling into a corn silo and the threat of drowning in it, all click. The moment you see a nail sticking out of a step in the stairs of their the basement, you know what’s coming. What comes is harrowing. It’s all worth it, too. It yields one of the most cathartic endings in modern Horror.

Emelie (2015)

   Emelie is a movie good enough to kill your career. It is so unsettling that it might have been more commercially successful if it had been worse. I can see some studios not wanting to work with the people involved because they were willing to make this thing.

Emelie is also a great response to John Carpenter’s Halloween. Halloween is a babysitter’s worst fear: that someone will come in the night when no one older is around to help and attack them and the children. But that isn’t the fear of children. Children’s deepest fear is that the babysitter will hurt them. Emelie is about that fear.

Following a disturbingly casual opening sequence in which a babysitter is kidnapped in broad daylight, we meet a small and intensely believable family. There are three kids, the youngest of which is so naturalistically sweet and excitable that he might just be a six year old that the director gave some sugar to and let roam through the set. Here we have a brooding pre-teen older brother who doesn’t want to spend time with his siblings, and a controlling middle-sister who constantly comes up with costume ideas and games for the youngest and most impressionable of the kids. Their parents are going out for a special dinner. They’ll be gone late. At the last minute their sitter has been replaced, but surely she’ll be fine. What could happen?

From there, Emelie would be a much more comfortable movie if the babysitter (guess her name) whipped out a steak knife and chased these kids. But it’s not a conventional Horror movie. She has the kids pose for photos that seem like a game to them, but are inappropriately morbid to the audience. There’s a scene where she invites the oldest boy into the bathroom with her that isn’t explicitly sexual or violent, but is palpably uncomfortable because even the boy knows this isn’t normal. Scene by scene, the movie pushes you to guess what she’s planning to do to them. The suspense is almost Hitchcockian, except she’s more of a black box than most of Hitchcock’s villains.

The older brother has to pull it together and find ways to call for help when the sitter hasn’t technically done anything explicable yet. It’s surprisingly effective character growth for the kid, who begins the movie as a pouting brat, and who wouldn’t be equipped to stand up to an adult no matter what his attitude was. He’s the only line of protection and he’s intensely vulnerable – perhaps the most vulnerable because Emelie reads him like a book from the minute she steps into the house.

I can’t recommend this to most parents. Many of my friends are having kids now, and for most of them, the natural fear for their children is going to make the tension of this movie too much. Again, it’s not a movie that has them eaten alive or smashed by a hammer. It’s the slow menace that will be too much. It’s easier and more escapist to fear that a werewolf, vampire, or even a serial killer will come in from outside your neighborhood and go after your family. Emelie is a movie about someone you think you can trust.

I spent so much of the ending of this movie yelling at the TV. No movie has sunk its teeth into me like this in years.

Hereditary (2018)

This is Ari Aster’s debut film. You know you’ve done well when critics argue whether the first movie you’ve ever made is a masterpiece. The guy has an entire career to turn in his masterpiece, but sure, let’s work ourselves into a froth now.

Anything Hereditary does well at all, it does masterfully. If it had a different ending, it’d probably be my favorite movie of the year because of how powerful the rest of it is. Instead it’s one of the best movies that I don’t feel like rewatching.

There are few pieces of art in any medium about an abusive family member dying before anyone gets catharsis from them. You probably have someone in your family who died before someone else got closure with them, and if you’re lucky enough not to, you definitely know somebody whose family has that kind of suffering. Hereditary wallows in the discomforting legacy of a grandmother who traumatized both her daughter and granddaughter. She’s dead, and her shadow is still longer than that of any living member of the family. She haunts them figuratively, and eventually we’ll wonder if she’s doing it literally.

Toni Collette deserves all the praise for her performance that she’s gotten. Nominate her for stuff, and write her fan mail. She lays bare this damaged mother who knows she can’t let go, who hates her mother for always interfering in her parenting, and demeaned her daughter for not being a boy. At the same time this life has made her so uptight and repressed that she can’t talk to her kids honestly without exploding. It took one scene to sell me on this movie, when Collette’s character went to a grief support group and her hatred of her own insecurities flowed out of her. This is not a stock Horror character with stock Horror angst. This is something real and festering, that makes you wish exorcisms worked on trauma.

And suspense? The clucking of a tongue here is scarier than the rev of a chainsaw in another movie.

It’s to Hereditary’s credit that act one pivoted the film somewhere entirely different than I’d expected. This isn’t a “and there are also ghosts!” pivot. This is a demolition of the family’s status quo mid-grieving process, which is the sort of curveball I could only expect A24 films to support. Suffice to say that this family goes through a Hell that, even without the eerie and horrific elements, you can’t expect any family to be equipped to deal with.

If this movie had come out in the 1980s, it would be a part of the canon right next to The Shining and Rosemary’s Baby.

It’s 2018 now, and I’m not surprised that mainstream audiences hated it.

It is an unpleasant movie with an unpleasant view of both family and the supernatural. The characters lack agency because the themes of powerlessness before death and grief are so important, and that builds to an ending that is both tricky to understand and, once you understand it, doesn’t feel worth sitting through an entire movie to get to. It has more to say about who we are as people than the average Horror movie, but the actual payoff of its climax is just another example of an overwhelming trend that I’m sick of. No matter how well executed the rest of your story is, the ending needs to satisfy. Hopelessness is not its own answer.

Come back Friday for Slice, Summer of '84, and the new hotness that is Nicholas Cage's Mandy!

Source: http://johnwiswell.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-halloween-list-quiet-place-emelie.html