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#but damn space ships require a hell of a lot of maintenance so how is it still up and running after sitting for 15 years
thresholdbb · 5 months
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Holup, they’re all rocking the same inclement weather gear
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estrla · 7 months
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                    ♔     ——— — -  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 :   but a person so mentally unstable cannot change.     your words freeze me up like your mouth is Antartica,     &.     your brain is scolding due to your visit to your throne in Hell.     i've suffered many tragedies inside my own mind.     𝑳𝑬𝑻 𝑰𝑻 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑼𝑵𝑭𝑶𝑳𝑫, 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑴𝑬 &. 𝑭𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑼𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵     a mother's love is all that is good     &.     holy, but what is it worth to Satan ?     you would know, since he is in fact, your creator...     𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 !
                    𝐒𝐎 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘,     &.     𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ; 𝘐 𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘠 𝘎𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘛𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘚 '𝘔𝘖𝘕𝘎𝘚𝘛 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘖𝘕𝘎.     #𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐋𝐀 :     𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙆𝙍𝘼𝙀𝙃𝙀.     an independent / private     &.     heavily headcanon / pilot based     𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗨𝗩𝗔 𝗕𝗢𝗦𝗦.    blog is dash only, mid amount of formatting     &.     low maintenance.
𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙂 𝙄𝙎 𝙍𝘼𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙈 / 𝘿𝘿;𝘿𝙉𝙀     &.     may contain the following content :     non-parental incest, dub con, sexism, marital / verbal abuse, violence / gore, classism / racism, slavery, age gaps, homophobia / transphobia     &.     child neglect.     𝐦𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞      all of these are to be tagged such as 'cw insert topic here'  — under no circumstances will bestiality or sexual content of minors be tolerated. i do not use catch-all tags, such as x don’t look or x don’t see nor do i require one for myself.     i will tag trigger warnings     &.     i will tag URLS :     do not pressure me or try to control who i write with. do not ask me my financial situation, sexual orientation / experience / preferences / kinks or fetishes, relationship status, mental disorders / medical history, etc. quite frankly, that’s nobody’s business but my own. 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙞𝙛 :     pro callout, smut-only blogs, shota / loli blogs, muns under 21 years of age, shame others for their sexual preferences, non-RP blogs, antis of any sort, if you have an extensive DNI persons list... this is not a safe-space for puritanical antis ! if agreeable to these terms, please continue to the blog rules under the cut...
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𝐈)     mod is over 25+ years of age.     i will not be providing my discord unless you’re a close friend.     timezone is PST.     goes by any pronouns.
𝐈𝐈)     this is a problematic character from series that takes place in literal hell.     Stella is, for the most part, a rude, privileged     &.     entitled individual who grew up extremely wealthy &. has very little to no ounce of kindness in her.     she is as condescending, homophobic, racist, sexist     &.     probably transphobic as they come.     𝙞 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 — 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨.    AUs are my jam.     𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩.    spoilers will not be tagged. leaks, should i ever come across them, will be tagged accordingly.
     i can’t write NSFW worth a damn, it’ll be rare if i actually write it out in full here — i prefer to write that in discord.     Stella is hard to ship with, so please don’t automatically assume romance unless prior discussion / interactions take place.     i currently don’t really ship her with anyone.
     𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜...     animal abuse, animal cruelty    &.     trypophobia.
𝐈𝐈𝐈)     my Stella is not only heavily physically based on her pilot design but also how i 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙚𝙙 she would be like 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙩.     Stella is a lot more calm than her canon counterpart — it doesn’t mean she isn’t explosive when she reaches her boiling point, just that she has a bit more patience, poise     &.     grace before getting there.     she is married to a prince, after all, she’s been trained her entire life for this.
     my canon voice for her is 𝙀𝙢𝙢𝙖 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙨𝙤𝙣 with mannerisms akin to the character she plays in the 2021 film Cruella, Miranda from The Devil Wears Prada     &.     even a bit of Rarity from MLP.     𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙖𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝘿𝙊𝙀𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙈𝙀𝘼𝙉 𝙞 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚.     i aim for my Stella to not disrupt the flow of canon — though i write her slightly different, none of it would affect the actual events from the show, if that makes sense.     Stella still gets pissed when she’s cheated on, she still hires Striker to off Stolas, etc.     also, i adore duplicates — lets have a Stella party !
     𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝙄𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼 𝙍𝙀𝙌𝙐𝙄𝙍𝙀𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏 but it would be  𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈��𝐓𝐄𝐃 if you could give this post a like or send me an ask stating you've read my rules !
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𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑺 !     bio.     grx.     metas.     asks.     promo. cws. sc. blogroll.
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talesofsonicasura · 4 years
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Stand Needed
Snatcher and Moonjumper contract a nasty undead illness. Luckily, Hat Kid knows someone who could help in exchange for a price. Too bad it's another weirdo on a whole other level.
Every creature can get sick. Dogs can contract illnesses, cats can get sick, rats can carry sickness and humans get sick from small colds or deadly diseases. Though no one ever thought the undead could contract an illness but it is possible especially for soul-devouring species.
There is an illness that can disturb the magic energy of powerful spirits, particularly those whose power grew greatly by consuming the life force of innocence more than the damned or vice versa. This causes their magic to malfunction, spells to fail or backfire, and if not treated in time that spirit in question will become stone.
The Subcon Forest, a dark and mysterious biological creature born from the ghostly energy that soaks deep in the soil. A fallen kingdom that's entire population was devastated in a single day by deadly frost and then revitalized into this maze of trees by powerful ghostly fire. Magic flows throughout the forest, haunted noose that come alive to snatch their victims, cherries that became crystalized then exploded when introduced to ghostly energies, swamps that drag treaders into the deep abyss and even bells that affect the spiritual plane.
Two types of inhabitants make this dead land their home under the laws of their ruler. Dwellers, spirits that are tied to the world by the masks they wear and capable of revealing the spiritual plane to others. And then there are the Subconites, dwellers whose spirits are given physical form through puppet bodies so they can interact with the world.
Both under the rule of the Snatcher, a powerful ghost that haunted the land. Trespassers he caught are forced to sign magical contracts with their souls as the price. All but one had made it out with their soul not getting devoured and bodies dumped like garbage. Another spirit did dwell within this ghostly forest and commanded the Dwellers that didn't want to be involved with the ghostly ruler.
This spirit known as Moonjumper also was a soul stealing entity that was at odds with the Snatcher. Clashes between both spirits were given and often depleted their magic to the point souls were required to replenish them. Snatcher fed on ones that belonged mostly to the innocent since they trespassed on his land more often and Moonjumper took those who were destined for hell as they fled to his part of the forest after performing dastardly deeds.
And this is where their problem all started. In a large tree lined with giant mushrooms and carved into with a jack o lantern was the dwelling for a particular specter. The Snatcher, a ghost around 20 ft long in size with a body similar to a serpent but covered completely in a mane of dark purple fur, a thick curly tip mane followed by glowing yellow eyes and mouth often found on a child's jack o' lantern with two fangs and spindly arms with two clawed fingers.
The spirit had a book in hand that's cover read 'Ghostly Magic and Illnesses' with eyes narrowed in annoyance and frowning in distaste. His powers had been acting finicky as late as last night. His warping magic left him in the wrong location than what he wanted, hands burst into flame without reason but the biggest sign was one of his contracts. The paper looked dead than it's pristine yellow cut.
Thus he delayed any new contracts and halted his duties to immediately find what was going on with his powers. A magical sickness wasn't what he expected. Especially as one as deadly to him like this. The Chaos Petrification, a sickness that manifests in soul eating entity's who had too much of innocent or damned energy in their appetite.
"...The only cure is the energy from a being with an immense fighting spirit. A soul whose willpower is so powerful that they can bring their inner being to life. By consuming some of this energy, the sick spirit's powers will return to proper balance. These souls are very rare and the illness will take four days to permanently petrify the spirit. What the peck?!" He shut the book with a huff.
"How the peck am I supposed to find a soul with an immense fighting spirit? What does that even mean by willpower that can come to life?!" He exclaimed with his animalistic rough growl mixed alongside the mischievous jovial balanced tone of his voice echoing through the forest. This wasn't something that needed to happen. You can't rule over a forest if you are a stone statue.
"Guess I'm not the only in this same predicament." A much softer male voice with an echo made the Snatcher's frown turn into an annoyed snarl. Turning around to bore holes into the head of the corpse possessing spirit at his home's doorway. The spirit was much smaller than him, around the size of a human man if he was missing his legs.
Their head was a pale blue moon shaped mask flipped on its back, red stripes going down the bottom side of the mouth, two eyes of slightly different sizes with red stripes or star spots in them, the fangs making the mask bear an aura of madness, his spindly body covered in torn remains of a prince attire consisting of a white ascot and red coat but manacles with broken chains around his wrists.
"Moonjumper, how did you get here? Have you forgotten you are banned from this part of my forest?" Snatcher growled whilst looking at this intruder with aggravation. "Trust me, I wouldn't have impeded on your land if it wasn't for good reason. I believe Chaos Petrification being both our problems." Those words were enough for the violet ghost to drop the book an instant.
"You have it too? This is really bad. Magic is the only thing keeping that witch's frost from eating the whole forest. And I really don't want her anywhere near that pecking border." The spirit shivered upon the thought of the ice witch that dwelled in a small section of the forest. All three of them were at odds but neither of the two males hated the other more than the female demon by their borders.
"As much as you hate me, neither of us wants our land to become frozen over with ghostly ice. We need each other to keep her at bay. From what I overheard is that the cure is the energy of a soul with a powerful inner will?" Moonjumper said, picking up the dropped book and opened it back to the page the other specter had it on.
The page in question held a person shaped hieroglyph and multiple wisps around them with a giant wisp at the center. Underneath the image was a scrap of text that seemed unreadable. With a flick of his fingers, red string manifested on that tiny part of the page. It covered the area before they vanished upon burrowing into the pages as restored text that read 'Stand User' in its place.
"Stand User? A bizarre name but much better than nothing. Though it's the first I heard of it." Moonjumper hummed looking at those two words that were the key to their salvation. "Maybe the kid might know. She may be a weirdo but she's a weirdo from space so the Hat Brat might have a clue." As if on signal by the violet ghost, a soft thump was heard by his tree alongside a childish girl saying Tada.
Then walked in a little girl who seemed to be around 8 years old in age, hair a chocolate brown ponytail and bright blue eyes wearing a purple top hat with a gold ribbon, a purple Victorian looking shirt, white pants, black shoes and a violet umbrella decorated in stickers. "Hey Snatcher! And Moonjumper you here too?! Bowie was wondering where you were!" The child who was known as Hat Kid said with honest surprise.
Both ghosts decided to inform the young child about their current predicament. The girl may be young but her actions in the past showed she was a force to be reckoned and a good source of help. After all, no one had ever bested Snatcher in a fight or escaped the manor of the Subcon's Ice Queen alive.
"A Stand User? Don't know what that is but I think my new friend might know!" That caught the attention of the two specters. Hat Kid has a habit of making friends with very interesting individuals. These very people were often useful to Snatcher in particular considering his special contacts known as Death Wishes.
"Really? Who's this new friend of yours and where are they now?" Snatcher questioned nearly getting into the kid's face. "Her name is Jodie Joestar and I met her in Mafia Town! She looked extremely lost and said something about a Stand thingy that took her from her friends! In fact she's waiting on my ship right now since I said you guys might know a way for her to get back!" Hat Kid exclaimed, both ghosts were quite pleased to hear this.
It shouldn't be so hard to ask the woman about it. Though even if the Snatcher wouldn't think or much less admit it, Moonjumper was quite curious on what kind of person was this Jodie Joestar. A question he was glad to ask Hat Kid about on their way to her ship.
"What kind of person Jodie is like? She's quite cool and very nice! Her hair is blue and the surprising thing is that it's completely natural! Jodie also knows some cool tricks I could do with my hat and apparently loves to sing. I plan on asking her if she wants to hang out later and show me these special comics she has called Manga! Oh and she has a lot of siblings, like 7 brothers and one sister! One of her brothers is her twin too!"
Snatcher could only do a small dry cackle in his head. This Jodie sounded like another weirdo. They had to be crazy to stand the little purple hat wearing alien girl known as Hat Kid. Plus having 8 siblings was guaranteed to drive someone up the wall with madness. Then again, might be another soul that could be a new contractor. His forest did need some maintenance that didn't involve the kid.
Hat Kid's spaceship could be described as very colorful and imaginative to anyone who goes inside. Various rooms with bright color carpets, different setups being connected by various sized tunnels which most were crawlspaces to any adult guests, displays with the subjects of each one floating in midair or the massive pile of pillows that could be found in the bedroom.
Each room contains a telescope, a type of transporter that took others to certain parts of the planet that it was locked on to. Funnily, the telescope in her room leads straight to Subcon Forest which was also the same place the trio arrived in. Though they weren't exactly counting on the sound of music above them.
This music sounded very strange. It was like a flute with a higher pitch mixed with the tone of a harmonica and light notes found in an ocarina. The song itself was very soothing despite it's somber tune and all three of them had different thoughts upon it. To Hat Kid, it sounded like something that could be heard from a fairytale. There was this sort of magic to it that you would only find from unexplained wonders.
For Moonjumper, it was very calming to him. It reminded him of whenever he was stargazing, his inner turmoils were quelled and he could feel himself at peace despite his cursed afterlife. And for Snatcher, the tune reminded him of home. Before Subcon had become the haunted forest it was now. Where children were playing, the sun was shining and everything was filled with peaceful life. The time he was truly happy and had a better honest outlook of the world.
They all looked to see the source of that melody on top of the pillow mountain. It was a young woman with slightly long curly blue hair and the music was coming from a leaf she had pressed to her mouth. She appeared to be around 5'10 in height with light peach skin and her body completely covered in a peculiar style of clothing.
It consisted of a black long sleeve kimono to the point that it completely swallowed her arms and legs, a torn sleeveless white long coat with seagreen bottom starting from halfway, a long blue sash like harness around her waist and brown hiking boots. This had to be the girl that Hat Kid was talking about, Jodie Joestar.
From her closed eyes and no reaction to their arrival, it was clear she didn't notice them yet. 'She's quite talented if she can create such music with a simple leaf. And cute…' Moonjumper immediately shoved that last thought in the back of his mind. No ogling a human girl especially one you don't know nothing about.
Jodie opened her eyes and immediately spotted the little girl alongside the two ghostly guests. She then placed the small plant piece in her pocket before sliding down the pillow mountain. "Welcome back Hattie-san! I see you brought guests too! Konnichiwa!" Her voice was light, peppy and had a soft energy to it as she bowed to the two ghosts much to their surprise.
"Konnichi-what? Sorry girlie but I don't speak alien or bow to random strangers." Snatcher snarked but the young woman didn't let it bother her much. "Sorry about that. Konnichiwa means Hello in Japanese and bowing to someone you first meet is a sign of respect from Japan as well." Jodie explained, her voice riddled with modest honesty.
"Quite an interesting custom. Sorry for not introducing ourselves. I am Moonjumper and the large fellow beside me is Snatcher. You must be Jodie Joestar?" The chained ghost's question was met with a small nod. "Correct. Hattie-san said you could be of assistance with my particular situation." That's right, Hat Kid did say she was stranded but how bad could it be?
"It depends on how bad it is and what you can give in return, kiddo. Nothing in this world is free." Snatcher had slithered around her side before his face got up close and personal to the woman with a finger to her face. She merely moved his finger aside much to the specter's surprise. "It's rude to put your fingers in someone's face Snatcher. You wouldn't want someone to do the same to you." And then she booped him on the area where his nose would be if the ghost had one.
Hat Kid giggled and Moonjumper had put his own down seeing the flustered face of Snatcher as Jodie walked over to Hat's bed and sat at the end. He clearly was having trouble processing the fact that some random stranger booped him, Snatcher the Ruler of Subcon, on his face in pure nonchalance. The sound of the kid's laughter and Moonjumper's amused look had him push it to the side as he glared at the two then Jodie.
The bluenette wasn't even a bit fazed as she spoke once more. "To put it simply, this isn't my world. I was sent here by the power of an enemy Stand, I believe he called it 'When They Come For Me'. Stands are the manifestation of a person's fighting spirit and each one is different from the other. They come in many shapes, types and forms. Some are named after the tarot deck and lately music or songs."
It had to be another world. He had to jinx himself. Moonjumper had to resist facepalming for that one. "Stand Users have a habit of attracting other Stand Users and some aren't really nice learning that." The violet ghost decided to butt in. "I guess that means you're a Stand User too since 'Stand Users have a habit of attracting other Stand Users.'" Jodie ignored his snarky interruption with a placid face.
Snatcher really was trying to aggravate her but he wasn't going to be easily satisfied. "Very astute. I am a Stand User but lucky for you is that I'm one of the friendlier and more rational ones. If you would've asked someone else that then they would attack or in a worse case scenario kill you in very gruesome ways. Trust me when I say you don't want to make an enemy of someone who could erase you from existence or turn you into a living bomb with a single touch."
And the peaceful ambient mood immediately shriveled up and died from Jodie's words. 'Erase someone from existence? That peck neck kid could've got us destroyed in an instant if she brought some fool capable of that on board! I may be powerful but I'm not stupid. Though I had to applaud her for killing the mood so quickly.' Snatcher had to reluctantly admit that last bit in his head.
Jodie then continued. "Don't worry though if there are any other nasty Stand Users then I can easily handle them. It's sort of my job to keep the bad nuts under control with my Stand: What's Up Danger!" Almost on cue something large and white had appeared in front of the bluenette causing the two ghosts and child to jump back in surprise.
Standing proudly before then was a white lion/dog hybrid beast with a ragged green and red bowtie on their chest around a good 12 ft in size, a seagreen underbelly alongside horn like ears and sharp bladed claws of that same color, a mouth of oversized monstrous fangs and tusks that looked like something from a horror movie, two eye sockets filled with various colored eyes than just one, dark blue bladed spikes on each side of the back, and a blue tail ending with a plush viper head that had blue bunny ears alongside a stitched mouth.
"That is a big freakish cat. And seriously 'What's Up Danger?' At least some fool knows what they're getting into once that comes out." The beast or What's Up Danger rolled their eyes at the violet specter's snark. "Kitty!" Then Hat Kid just pounced on the large feline with a big hug much to everyone's surprise. Jodie immediately became as flustered as her Stand who clearly was not used to random hugs.
"Hattie-san, you are one of a kind because no one has ever called Danger a kitty and hugged her." The woman couldn't help but chuckle as the feline plucked the child off her leg and settled the little girl on her back with her tail. Moonjumper merely looked at the peculiar creature with a curious gaze. It's not everyday a ghostly demonic feline jumps out of someone.
He then noticed Jodie giving the two ghosts a look that clearly read: 'You can get closer if you want.' Moonjumper came closer with no issue while Snatcher held back a groan and settled with a skeptical look before begrudgingly coming over. Danger merely sat down and watched them making it clear she had no problem with what they did. Especially since Hat Kid was petting her much to the feline's pleasure.
"So you said you were looking for my assistance but for what?" Filling her in on the situation was apparently easier than they expected. "Turning to stone sounds really awful. If you need some of my Stand Energy then take what you need. Danger and I have no problem with it. Right, girl?" A soft mew confirmed the feline's answer to her partner.
"Thank you very much Jodie. You are a 'lifesaver' I believe what people say these days. Please hold out your hand or paw." The duo followed Moonjumper's instruction and pulled out their respective left limb. Snatcher had cautiously taken Jodie's while Moonjumper took Danger's. he vast difference in size was made clear as the violet ghost and feline practically overshadowed their respective partner's hand.
Both females felt a large prick at the center of their being that vanished as fast it came, a flu shot being the closest to compare the feeling. The reactions of the two ghosts were instant once they let go. A large burst of blue flame ignited from Snatcher's hand before manifesting as a pristine gold contract paper with a large bright smile and strings whipped from Moonjumper's in an elegant controlled fashion.
"I'm back in business! Maybe even better than ever since my contracts never had such a perfect pristine look to them." The specter couldn't help but admire the elegant masterful craftsmanship of the calligraphy and detailed fabric/paper of the very item in his claws. "My magic feels much better as well. It has been some time to be able to manipulate my strings like this after escaping the Horizon. You have an incredible spirit Miss Joestar."
Jodie and Danger couldn't help the big smile on their beaming faces at the Moonjumper's praise and the sorta gratitude from Snatcher. "Now to get you home! You know the telescopes on my ship, the ones that I use to travel on different parts of the planet." Hat Kid's inquiry earned a round of nods from the room's occupants.
"I was thinking that we can power up one of the telescopes so it can send you back! And the best ones for the job was Snatcher and Moonjumper." That didn't sound like a bad idea. All of them had seen how the strange objects worked, most of them even used it, they were very accurate on where they warped to and from.
"Doesn't sound too hard considering we got a sample of the kiddo's soul. It'll act like a guide to her planet and last location before ending up in that stupidity infested town. The telescope used for my forest will boost our chances since it's linked to the realm of yours truly." A larger smug smile grew on the specter's face that earned him an eye roll from the other ghost.
With a simple spell, the telescope to Subcon had undergone a significant change. It was now larger with the brown cover replaced with a deep violet marked by red spirals, a second notch by the lenses marked with a J, and a mechanism that changed the lense for a bright sea green one. "There we go. Now the telescope can warp to your world and not just Subcon Forest with a turn of the notch." Moonjumper didn't expect the sudden hug from the woman and Snatcher didn't expect her to hug him next. Hat Kid's hug wasn't a surprise.
What's Up Danger vanished as Jodie recalled the being back into her own soul. "Thank you guys! I hope we can meet again in the future someday but for now this is goodbye. My family is probably worried or on a crusade for that Stand User so best to put out the flaming torches and put down any Stand Rushes quickly as possible. Sayonara and Arigato." With a smile on her face, the girl vanished in the light of the telescope.
Snatcher and Moonjumper stared at the object a bit longer before instinctively looking at Hat Kid. She had a very familiar disaster impending smile on her face. "You're going to follow her, aren't you?" The chained specter was answered by the smug look in the child's eyes. "At least give her three days. I want to see what kind of face she makes when we pop up. Plus there's a book of spells that might come in handy."
An impossible thing to knock about Snatcher and Hat Kid. When you grab their interest expect to follow you with every chance they get. And prepare for the impending mayhem to follow. Ghosts and children always tend to cause mischievous mishaps after all.
This is another Hat in Time crossover but instead I used Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. Hat Kid here is a bit more chatty because I want to practice all sorts of interactions especially with two diverse sets of characters from two different franchises.
While Unappreciated Hunter was exploration in its style, this is more of how these very unique series interact with another when you take into consideration how vastly different they are. Kind of like a melting pot as characters handle brand new situations and the oddities provided.
This is all my first attempt at writing Moonjumper so I hope I did good. Until next time folks!
This is Jodie Joestar and her Stand What's Up Danger! Alongside the song that her name comes from.
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voidendron · 5 years
Text
Deep Blue Sea: Ch 2
Chapter 2: Starting Point Subnautica/JSE Egos Crossover
((  just a tidbit: Chase’s PDA’s voice has been replaced with Sean’s voice! the other survivors each have a different (non-canon or not appearing in this fic) Septic Ego as their own PDA ))
Warnings: Swearing, Minor Head Trauma Characters: Chase Brody POV: Chase Brody
Chase groaned as his eyes fluttered.
Then he coughed.
Then he jolted awake with a start as wide eyes set on the fire overtaking half of the lifepod.
“What?! No, no, no, shit!” He punched at the release for his harness. His frantic tapping was in syn with the headache pounding at his skull.
When the harness released he all but fell out of the chair in a scramble for the fire extinguisher. It was heavier than he remembered.
He continued coughing and wheezing as he put the fire out before throwing the extinguisher to the side and scaling the ladder to throw the top hatch open. Smoke billowed after him as he threw himself down on his back on top of the pod, suppressing a hiss at the bright sunlight.
The pod rocked gently beneath him. All that did was contribute to the nausea he could feel building in his stomach. He forced himself to swallow past it and pressed a hand to the bloody welt in his head. He pushed himself to sit up and squinted down at his PDA as he turned it on. It booted in Emergency Mode, only to immediately go on to tell him he’d suffered minor head trauma.
“Well, no shit,” he muttered.
He fiddled with the device for a bit, cursing and mumbling to himself as he viewed the alarmingly limited data it carried in Emergency Mode. Until he made it back to Alterra to have it reset to its original mode, he didn’t have any of his old files. He couldn’t even check in with his maintenance crew, dammit!
A splash to his right startled him and nearly made him drop his PDA.
When he turned to look, the color drained from his face. He was…he was surrounded by water. No land in sight, while the Aurora’s remains loomed in the distance where it had settled to the ocean floor.
He was stranded. On an alien planet. In the middle of the ocean. With no land in sight.
Chase choked on a sob when it finally hit him.
He couldn’t see any other lifepods. What if—no, no. Don’t think that way. They were small. Maybe they were just…too hard for him to see?
He could see a sand floor beneath his pod. The middle of the ocean, and he was in shallows?
Little…fish, swam about. They didn’t look like any of the fish he’d seen in pictures; with massive eyes that took up a good portion of their bodies, funny shapes. One looked more like a decoration or household appliance than a living creature. Occasionally, one of the eye-fish would jump out of the water. That would explain the splash he heard.
A shake of the head and Chase slide back into the lifepod. Rescue had to be coming, right? It had happened so fast, though… What if the Captain hadn’t had time to send out a distress signal? He knew Keen would have done so in the Captain’s place, if not for the fact that the First Officer was just as stranded as he was. That was, if Keen had even survived landing. Chase racked his brain for what problems Lifepod 19 had. He couldn’t recall, and his PDA was no help in its current setting.
Chase just huffed a sharp breath and sat himself next to the storage compartment. Check your supplies, Brody. Remember the survival training the entire damn crew had to go through.
No air tanks. No swim gear (thank god his work attire was waterproof). He didn’t even have a repair tool, scanner, or Seaglide.
Okay.
We’ll start from scratch, then.
Chase shuffled toward the fabricator as it prepared blueprints, altering the original ingredients as needed to be materials it detected on nearby areas of the planet.
Huh. So that’s how they worked. He’d always wondered how they’d work on alien planets that maybe didn’t have the materials the original item blueprint required. It was just replacing materials with the best substitutes, if not altering the print itself entirely.
A survival situation wasn’t exactly the way he’d wanted to learn that, however.
He’d tried waiting. Three hours had ticked by. Nothing.
He took a shaky breath as he made sure the ingredients showed up on his PDA, as he glanced to the bottom hatch of his pod.
He’d tried fiddling with the radio and damaged wiring where the panel had torn free, but without a repair tool he was out of luck. He could pull off the repairs just fine.
Just…not with his bare hands, unless he wanted to severely burn them or lose a finger or two.
Then, he’d studied the Aurora from atop Pod 5; wondered how anyone still on board could have survived its landing. If they had.
When the shock had faded away, Chase knew it would be a good long while before rescue came. He’d spent one of those three hours trying to calm himself after that realization hit him. They were so far out of Alterra space on this planet. Even when the company realized the ship was down, whether distress signals had gone out or not, it could be weeks—months!—before rescue was able to reach them.
No other option but to start scavenging up supplies he’d need.
He opened the hatch, kicked his feet at the water. Boy, he didn’t like this at all. He slipped on a pair of goggles (they were swimming goggles. Swimming goggles. As in, meant for the ship’s on-board pool and not a lifepod’s inventory. Where was the damn diving helmet? Or oxygen tank, for that matter?) and grimaced as he looked at the ocean just inches beneath him.
Steeling himself and taking in a gulp of air, Chase slid out of the lifepod.
The water stung the gash in his head. He kicked to the surface beside Pod 5 and placed a hand over it with a hiss. An alien planet. And it had a salt water ocean. That would be just wonderful when he needed drinking water.
Diving helmet. He needed one bad. Hey, at least the wound would be disinfected! he thought with a bitter laugh.
“’The Aurora will never go down,’” he parroted with a sneer. “Uncrashable my ass.”
He checked the materials for an oxygen tank and repair tool on his PDA, replaced it at his hip, took another breath of air, and dived.
Laughter to his left—yes, laughter, he wasn’t hearing things—startled him bad enough he swallowed a mouthful of water. He was forced to surface; spluttering and coughing as he treaded water, tried to pinpoint the noise. A large creature with a bulbous tail met his eye. It laughed again and his hair stood on end. There were two others farther away.
Chase backpedaled and the creature turned to swim lazily in the other direction, toward the other two. He’d…give them a wide berth.
Multiple times he’d kick frantically to the surface when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, then go right back under to grab as many supplies as he could before needing air again.
One oxygen tank later (low capacity. Why wasn’t there a blueprint for a high capacity tank?  Fifteen minutes wasn’t long enough) and he found himself glaring at his PDA. “The hell’s a ‘cave sulfur’?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Okay. Just. Check the nearby caves? There was one not far from his lifepod; if it was cave sulfur, it wouldn’t hurt to at least check there, right?
He fitted the mask back over his nose and mouth (he wanted a helmet. Not the little mask that was auto-constructed with the O2 tank. He needed a dive suit if he wanted the helmet) and cut toward the direction of the cave opening he’d seen.
Looking into it now, it was a lot darker than he would have liked. What if there was something predatory in there?
He gulped at the thought.
No flashlight, and it would be too easy to get disoriented underwater. Hopefully it was just a small cave…
Using just the weak light of his PDA’s screen, in he went.
It didn’t take long for him to discover the exploding fish.
Chase yelped when a round fish exited a flower-like pod and shot straight for him. He didn’t even process what was happening as he bolted back for the cave’s entrance. He’d scrabbled for a handhold in the rocks; ducked at the creature went right past his head. It proceeded to blow up a few meters away, startling one of the big-eyed fish into darting toward then away from Chase.
Okay. Watch for the weird pod thing that hid freaking exploding fish. Good to know.
“It would be best for your health to avoid the planet’s volatile fauna,” his PDA offered helpfully. All he could offer it was a glare. Cheeky bastard.
He resurfaced to let his tank refill, then went right back down to the cave. There had been something left in the pod after the fish left and—Well. It looked like the cave sulfur that the fabricator had very roughly tried to recreate how it thought the stuff would look.
Wonderful. Hopefully nothing else would need it because he did not want to meet any more of those buggers.
Okay, okay. Just get back to your pod and start repairing shit, dude, he thought. At least now he’d be able to send out a distress signal once the fabricator built this little tool. If it was this much of a hassle to scrounge up supplies for a repair tool, he didn’t want to know how hard other stuff would be. Hopefully rescue would come before he had to figure that part out.
A shake of the head and he pushed himself away from the storage compartment just as the fabricator was finishing.
Repair tool. Finally.
He snatched it up and ducked around the ladder to start working on the radio.
He willed its cables to stitch themselves back together while careful to keep his fingers away from the end of the tool; spliced wires that had been split apart. It was a patch job, but all he could do without actual parts for repairing. It would work, at the very least, to send out and pick up distress signals. He wasn’t sure it could handle having a message sent out, though. He’d have to settle for just the signal.
Now, to just try and relax while he waited for—
“Seek fluid intake.”
“Goddammit.”
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absolutecreed · 6 years
Text
Hated Body
Hux found himself hating everything and everyone lately.
He hated how some officers weren’t standing up as straight as they should. Even the slightest angle off had irritation racing through him. If someone breathed the wrong way, or coughed too loudly, or Force help them yawned, he was likely to be set off. And it went without saying that he hated Kylo Ren. The manchild was now the Supreme Leader of all things.
Why.
Why.
Why.
The man was too emotional to be in a seat of power. As was evident by the bruises throbbing on Hux’s body. An emotional man wasn’t likely to make rational decisions. But an emotional man that wouldn’t listen to a voice of reason (aka Hux) was even worse. The First Order was going to fold under Kylo’s rule, if Hux didn’t scramble and work hard to keep up the Order that he had invested so much blood and sweat in.
And another thing Hux found himself hating...was his own body. Which wasn’t anything new, but especially lately he found himself hating it.
His ‘tomb of flesh’ required too much maintenance. Regular sleep, eating habits, exercise, intake of vitamins...It was all such a waste to do those things, when he could be working. So he did that instead--he worked. He had to work, he had to keep working in order to keep the First Order afloat. If Ren wasn’t going to do it, then by the Stars, he was going to.
So what if his already thin body was getting thinner?
So what if his already pale skin was getting paler?
So what if the dark circles under his eyes started getting darker?
He had a First Order to run--his body could take a back seat, until he was for sure that things would run smoothly. When he thought that the First Order would be fine without him for a few hours, then and only then would he rest.
...If only his body had the same idea.
He really, really did hate it.
Hux had first started realizing his body was rebelling against him, when the headaches started. The only thing that managed to make them bearable was either caf or stims. But if he had caf, then his stomach usually rebelled against him. His usual tea as well sometimes didn’t want to stay down, much to his disappointment. Small nibbles of ration bars here and there kept his stomach in line, but still did nothing against the headaches.
Following the headaches were dizzy spells. Was his body really rebelling against him that much? After Crait sure, sleep hardly came to him at all (sometimes not even at all), but surely his body could wait until his work was finished, right? He did find himself catching cat naps in his office, laying his head down for a few fitful minutes at a time. He didn’t like it but if his body needed sleep THAT badly, the naps would have to do.
Ooh, but he was so wrong. And his body was soon going to make him see that.
Hux had been issuing orders from the bridge, as per usual. His body felt oddly warmer, but he dismissed it. He did have some caf today, and that seemed to warm him up. It was easily ignored. The lights seemed a bit bright today, but again easily ignored. The ship’s engines seemed to be running a bit louder, too. That was a bit more concerning--they were usually at a dull hum. Why were they so loud? Were the Supremacy’s repairs still under way?
...Was he aboard the Finalizer or Supremacy?
Hux had turned to ask...something....What was he going to ask again? The question died in his throat, before it even reached his lips.
Next thing he knew, gravity felt like it had shifted, everything was dark, and he could hear what sounded like a lot of voices surrounding him. For a split second, Hux thought he had fallen into his own personal Hell, with the voices of the lost Hosnian system haunting him...
But he voices weren’t tormenting him. They were simply saying his name. As if they were from far away, or in a long hall, and they were at opposite ends. And why was it so dark? The crashing headache came back, and he grimaced, letting out a groan. It was then that he realized that the reason it was so dark, was because his eyes were shut.
“He’s coming to, give him some space.”
Coming to? From what?
Hux peeled his eyes open, squinting through the bright lights. Gods, they were bright, so bright. Why? He could make out vague shapes above him, that looked like his bridge officers. And they were surrounding him. Looking down on him. As his vision cleared a bit more, he could see that they weren’t mocking or gloating at him (thank the Gods), but were rather concerned. Very concerned, in fact.
He’d take that into account later, but right now he found himself on the floor, his eyes had been closed, his headache was so much worse now, and someone had mentioned him coming to?
“General, you shouldn’t get up--” started Mitaka, who was kneeling beside him, as Hux slowly sat up. Mitaka held a hand out to him, but Hux swatted it away with a growl--or what he hoped was a growl, but it sounded more like a weak grunt than anything. Hells, he felt horrible...and now everyone was around him. They could see that he was weak.
Hux felt his fight or flight sense raise up quickly, but his body’s weakness quickly stomped that out.
“‘m fine. Leave me be.” snapped Hux, inwardly wincing at how weak his voice sounded. While he was finally sitting up, he found his legs didn’t want to work with him. He wanted them under him, so he could stand. They felt like lead. Well that was just great...
“General, do you--”
“I said, leave me be!” Hux felt himself swell a little with pride, his snarl actually sounding strong enough to cause those around him to actually step back. Good. See, he wasn’t weak. As for what had just occurred, with him having been on the ground... Whatever, he’d deal with it later.
Maneuvering himself a little, he finally got his legs to work and slowly started to stand up. The moment he tried to be vertical, his world shifted sickeningly. He felt hands grab him--Mitaka--and he growled, but was helpless to stop the younger man from helping him. A small voice in the back of his (still throbbing) head actually thanked the Lieutenant, as with his help, Hux was able to stand on his own two feet. Still wobbling slightly and nothing was truly in focus, but at least he was standing.
He’d figure out the rest later.
He nodded his thanks to Mitaka, watching him return the salute, hesitating a little with worry, before finally going back to his station. Good man. But just as he started to feel better, things started feeling worse again. His headache pounded away, making that engine roar get louder in his ears. His vision was starting to grey at the edges. He tried focusing on the starts outside the bridge’s view port, but they too were starting to blend sickeningly. He thought he heard someone say his name. How long had he been standing there? And was someone just saying his name, because they were concerned?
They had work to be doing, they couldn’t waste their time being concerned with him. He’d worry about himself later, when his own work was finished.
But that meant returning to his office. And that required moving his legs. And Hux had a sick feeling that, if he dared to move, he’d be falling over. He couldn’t afford to look weak in front of his crew. Not again.
...Again, his body had different plans.
This time, Hux felt his body go limp, as if he was a puppet and his puppeteer had just cut his strings. His vision went grey, then white, then completely black, as that rushing sound in his ears got louder.
Rushing...not roaring. It wasn’t the engines...
Hux was vaguely aware of something pressing against the small of his back, before the darkness consumed him and he knew nothing more.
+++
This time, waking up was much more of a chore. Especially since it was so quiet. The roaring of the engines--no, the roaring of blood (or whatever) in his ears had finally toned down. And he was warm--pleasantly so. He was laying on something soft, and for the first time in a long time, he felt extremely comfortable.
Hux opened his eyes.
Which, as it turned out, also was quite a chore. Where ever he was, it was dark. ...But not completely so. The lights were dimmed. And the room looked familiar, but he was too tired (there he said it, he was tired) to think more on that. But his fight-or-flight instinct decided to come up belatedly, and he sat up quickly with a gasp.
A mistake.
He was aware of footsteps, and something, or someone, saying his name, and he was out once more.
This time, when he woke up, he was much more careful. He slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust. He realized that the reason why this room was familiar, was because it was his room. These were his quarters. Which meant that this was his bed. He slowly turned his head, and was aware of something in his field of vision--tall and shiny, and thin. A pole. Eyes went up, and he saw a bag attached to the pole, with tubes leading down from it. His eyes followed the tubes, and found that they were connected to his arm.
An IV drip?
“Hux.”
This time, he heard his name clearly.
Hux weakly turned his head to see Kylo Ren, of all people, approaching him. This time, his fight-or-flight response didn’t ‘activate’, and he assumed that he was really tired. But when Kylo came closer, he didn’t look like the mad-man that was running the First Order. Without the mask, his face was so expressive, damn him. And right now, his large, brown eyes were full of concern, and relief.
So unlike the man that tossed him like a rag doll on Crait.
“You’re in your quarters.” continued Kylo, sitting on the edge of Hux’s bed, “I came to the bridge to speak with you, but you collapsed. According to your bridge officer, that was your second collapse within minutes. I rushed you to the medbay--”
Hux groaned.
“Hush. I rushed you to the medbay, because...Hells Hux, you were feather light in my arms. Your body was running a fever from exhaustion, and your pulse was so dull. The medics determined you were suffering from extreme exhaustion, as well as a lack of food and water, combined with little to no sleep. It’s a wonder you didn’t die on the spot, Hux, with how hard you’ve been working...”
“But I...” said Hux, before his voice croaked out, causing him to cough dryly. Gods, his throat was dry. Just how long have I been out?
“Two days.” said Kylo, reading Hux’s thoughts, ignoring the glare he was getting from the General. He got up, going into Hux’s kitchenette and coming back with a glass of water. He set the glass aside, as he carefully sat Hux up, propping him up against some pillows. Hux realized then, just how weak he was. He could barely hold himself up, let alone resist Kylo handling him.
In a way, he found he didn’t mind.
Kylo helped Hux hold onto the glass, before tipping it up against his lips. Hux, after the first sip of water, realized just how thirsty he was. But even he knew that, if he started chugging it, it wasn’t going to end well.
“After the medbay, I brought you back to your quarters.” continued Kylo, watching Hux drink, “Figured you’d rather wake up here, than in there. A medical droid brought up an IV drip for you--you were so low on nutrients and fluids, that it was necessary to have this. You did wake up briefly yesterday, but you sat up too quickly, and fainted into my arms again, once I reached the bed.”
Hux finished the glass of water, letting Kylo have it, before turning to look at him, “...I don’t faint...” was his response, though he knew it was a weak one. Hux knew exactly what happened. He fainted--twice--on the bridge, then again when he had briefly woken up that time. And he was pretty sure it wasn’t the fever that was making his cheeks burn, as he forced himself to look down at his hands.
“...I had to keep working, Re--Supreme Lead--”
“Just Ren. Or Kylo. While we’re alone like this.”
Hux nodded, though he did raise his brows in surprise. Was Kylo having a change of heart?
“...Ren, I had to keep working.” continued Hux, still refusing to look up, “You’re not really a good ruler. You’re too emotional. You don’t like listening to reason, even when its plain and obvious that you should. I have to work hard, in order to keep the First Order from collapsing. I gave this Order my sweat and blood, giving it a bit more isn’t going to hurt. I’ll rest when everything is running smoothly.”
He blinked, realizing the words he said, at the beginning of his explanation. He glanced up curiously at Kylo to see his reaction...but instead of anger or frustration, that concern was still there. And Hux found that frustrating, “Don’t look at me like that. Like I’m weak, and need protecting. It’s...”
Kylo blinked, before tilting his head, almost looking too innocent, “Hux, you’re hardly weak. A weaker man would’ve keeled over days ago, with how hard you’ve been working. But at the same time...I need you, Hux. I can’t have you running yourself ragged like this.”
Hux opened his mouth, before closing it. He blinked, and then blinked again. Had...he heard that right? Kylo needed him?
“You’re right.” admitted Kylo, clasping his hands together, looking down at them, “I’m not meant to rule. I don’t even know what I’m doing, really. But the First Order respects you, and listens to you. I...need your help with that. I need help with the technical side of things. So...please...”
Hux watched him, before sighing heavily, “...Gods, don’t beg. Don’t sound so pathetic. If you needed my help, you could’ve asked--”
Kylo looked at him, giving him a look.
“...Right. You asking me for help. Never would happen.” said Hux, chuckling softly, “Well, as you so stated, I’m useless right now. So, once I’m better, I’ll help you with a few things. But don’t expect me to hold your hand constantly. You do need to learn these things on your own.”
How Kylo’s face could look so childishly excited, and yet so handsome at the same time was beyond Hux, but dammit the man could do it. His face split into a grin, before he calmed himself and nodded, “Thanks. And you do know getting better, means getting some sleep.”
Hux huffed, but again was useless as Kylo moved to lay him back down. Now that he was horizontal on his soft bed, that tiredness was creeping back. Being careful of the IV lines in his arm, Hux moved to roll onto his side, curling up slightly. Kylo pulled the blanket over him, before starting to stroke his hair. Hux almost snapped at him, to tell him to stop.
...Almost.
Hux didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, or the calming sensation that came from his hair being stroked, but he soon found himself dropping off into much, much needed sleep rather quickly.
He’d give into his body’s demands.
This time.
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flowerfan2 · 7 years
Text
Winds of Change - Chapter 2
Stucky, 46k total, A03. Post CACW.  This fic is fully written, and will post several times a week.  (Find Chapter 1 here).
 Bucky’s still got some healing to do after the doctors in Wakanda rouse him from sleep and make sure there are no more deadly triggers lurking in his brain.  He decides it should happen where he can have some peace and quiet, as well as a little distance from Steve’s overwhelming presence.  When he sees an ad for a “Winter Caretaker” he takes the job, but it turns out to be not so peaceful after all.
 Or, how Bucky realized that while he still needs to heal, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for him and Steve to do it together.
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Chapter 2
The commercial plane flight is tedious, but in a familiar way that Bucky doesn’t want to examine too closely (packed in tight, strangers all around, no escape route), and the long bus ride isn’t much better (although at least he could jump out if push came to shove).
Bucky’s not sure how he feels about the ferry.  The one he’s on is large but mostly empty, and he finds a seat near a window and watches the boat pull away from the dock.  A plaque informs him that the ship was built as a World War II landing craft and participated in the D-Day invasion at Normandy in 1944, receiving one battle star for service.  He hadn’t realized ships received stars.  He goes up on deck (it’s cold, but it doesn’t bother him much) and walks up to the bow, looking over the side at the waves.  He gives the railing a pat.  Thanks for your service, he thinks to himself, shaking his head.
In just over an hour the ferry arrives at the island.  Nora had said he wouldn’t be able to miss her, and she’s right – there’s hardly anyone waiting for the ferry, and there’s only one willowy white-haired lady standing next to an old green station wagon with a “Welcome to the Vineyard” sign in her hands.
It doesn’t take long to leave Vineyard Haven, the town where the ferry docked, and soon they are driving down nondescript roads.  It could be anywhere – until they turn down a side road and the ocean comes into view.
The sprawling gray house is high on a cliff, surrounded by more open land than Bucky expected.  And it’s huge.
“Damn,” Bucky mutters, and Nora looks at him with concern.
“It is too big?  The housecleaner will come every week, you don’t have to clean it yourself.  And there’s a snowblower… we don’t get much snow anyway, usually, although every time I say that we get a blizzard, so I really shouldn’t be saying anything.”
Bucky interrupts her ramble with his most charming smile.  “No, it’s fine, I was just admiring it.”
 Nora shows him around the place, and gives him a notebook full of information that he’s pretty sure he won’t need (if he can’t figure out how to fix a leaky toilet with whatever he can find on the internet, he has no business taking this job).  
 There’s a whole chart of instructions about her plants, which are mostly in a sort of glassed-in porch towards the back of the house.  He trails after her as she goes looking for the cats, finally finding one of them on top of a tall bookshelf in the library (of course a house like this has a library, he’s surprised it doesn’t have a bowling alley and a built-in swimming pool in the basement).
 “This is Mittens,” Nora says.  He looks closely at the cat, Nora having coaxed it off the bookshelf and into her arms. It’s all black, not a spot of white fur anywhere.  “I know she doesn’t have any mittens.”  Nora shrugs and pets a black paw.  “But it’s her name.”
 They can’t find the other two, but Nora doesn’t seem bothered by this.  “Sometimes I don’t see them for days.  But the food keeps disappearing, so I know they’re still around.” She explains how she doesn’t have an alarm system, or any home security at all, since she knows the cats would set it off, and she likes them to be able to go in and out through the cat door at will.
 Bucky thinks that someone with a house that clearly is worth millions might want to invest in a more subtle security system than one which would get set off by a cat, but what the hell, it’s not his house.  And if she had better security, he’d be out of a job – because it becomes clear that his main purpose is mostly to populate the empty space, not perform any heavy lifting.
 Suddenly Nora’s phone pings, and she’s off.  Apparently they have Uber here.  Although Bucky insists he could have driven her to the ferry, Nora just shakes her head. “Email or text me if you have any questions – enjoy yourself!”
 Bucky locks the front door behind her, and then lets out a long breath.  Finally, it’s quiet.
 He goes into the large living room, passing by the soft white couches, and slides open the glass door to the balcony which looks out over the water.  Still quiet, just the sound of the wind and, from further away, waves crashing against the shore.  He thinks he’s going to like it here.
 That night Bucky makes a fire in the fireplace, settles down on one of the couches, and reads through the materials Nora left.  By his calculations, it will take about an hour every day, maybe two, to fulfill his maintenance duties.  Longer if it snows, and a quick internet search tells him that while the island is warmer than the mainland, it does in fact get plenty of snow.  He goes onto Amazon and orders a pair of winter boots – proper tools for the job, and so on.
 A movement catches his eye and he almost jumps off the couch, before he realizes it’s the cat from the library, Mittens.  She is sidling up to him as if she’s as jumpy as he is, which is probably the truth.  He settles in, his laptop on his lap, and reads through some articles about what’s open on the island in the wintertime. Eventually the cat leaps up on the couch, makes herself comfortable at his side, and starts to purr.
 Bucky closes his eyes and sighs contentedly.  He’s definitely going to like it here.
 **********
 October turns into November, and Bucky establishes a routine.  In the mornings he works out (there’s a pretty well-equipped exercise room), waters the plants, and deals with the cats’ food and litter.  After lunch, he walks around the property, making sure nothing is amiss (nothing ever is), and then settles in the living room or the library, reading, surfing the web, or watching television.
 Some days he adds an outing to his afternoons, going for a long walk or run, or riding the moped around the island to explore.  Bucky likes the moped better than the station wagon; although only incrementally less unhip, he enjoys the feel of the wind in his hair, chilly though it is.  The smell of the salt air and the crunch of the leaves are much more apparent, too.  He grins to himself when he realizes he’s taking the moped out not because he hasn’t sufficiently mapped out each little town, but because it’s just fun.  
 He can have fun, now, apparently.  It’s a good thing.
 Except for weekly trips to the grocery store, he hasn’t had much interaction with other people.  It’s become clear that plenty of people are still here, despite the fact that it’s off-season – he sees them on the road, and in the little towns, going in and out of shops with their hats pulled tight over their ears.  Most of the restaurants are closed, but there are still some open to cater to the year-round residents.
 There’s a bar in Oak Bluffs that Bucky has ridden past a number of times, right off the main road. The dumb stuff they write on their sidewalk sign make him groan.  Today it says “Thursday night special – same prices, just special (and free wings).” He wonders if their regular marketing guy takes the winter off.
 Stupid sign or not, it gets him thinking, and the following Thursday he dresses a little more carefully (clean black fleece under his leather jacket, clean t-shirt, the jeans without the hole in the knee) and heads into Oak Bluffs in the evening.  He walks up and down the street a few times, goes around the back of the bar to check the exit, observes the patrons coming and going from a bench a little ways down the road, and then makes up his mind. Tonight, he’s having wings for dinner.
 (Bucky knows that going out for dinner in a touristy bar probably does not require the level of surveillance he is conducting, but he’s not going to get down on himself for it, either.  He’s not hurting anyone, and it sure as shit will make him feel better.)
 He squares his shoulders and walks inside.  It’s warm, smells like good food, and music is playing just loud enough to glide over the noise of the diners.
 “Welcome to Skipper’s,” a bored looking teenager says, flipping her hair aside to reveal a thoroughly pierced ear.  “Table or bar?”
 “Bar’s fine,” Bucky says, his voice cracking a little from disuse.  Get a grip, he thinks to himself, as the girl motions vaguely towards the bar.
 But things smooth out from there.  The bartender, who introduces himself as Henry, doesn’t push him to engage in conversation, just gets him his beer, a hamburger, and a side of wings calmly and efficiently.  The restaurant is barely half-full, but everyone seems to be having a good time, and Bucky relaxes and orders a second beer.  It doesn’t do much for him, super-soldier metabolism and all, but the ritual is comforting, and frankly beer tastes a lot better now than it did back in the 40’s.  
 He makes some comment about the beer to Henry (not, obviously, about beer seventy years ago), who nods and hands him a menu.  “We’ve got twelve on tap, and forty or so in the cooler.  I can make a suggestion, if you want.  A lot of people like Whale’s Tale, from Cisco Brewers in Nantucket.”
 Bucky tries one, and Henry’s right – it’s good.  
 That night Bucky gives the cats an extra treat (he feeds Mittens on his lap; the other two are nowhere in sight, so he puts a few treats in their food dish) so they can share in the pleasant feeling that has settled over him.  He successfully engaged in a social situation like a totally normal person without freaking the hell out.  And more than that, he did something just because he wanted to.  It’s not as if he hasn’t been engaging in the necessary activities to cope with life in general over the past few months, and even before that, in Bucharest – but things are different now.  It’s his new life, as non-criminal, not-on-the-run Bucky Barnes, and he can fill it with bars and hot wings and beer, if he wants to. He can do more than just what he needs to do to survive.  
 **********
 Mittens interrupts his sleep one morning with a nudge to his chin and a questioning “mmrrrt?”  Bucky blinks one eye open, disoriented for a moment as he always is when he wakes up.  Then he realizes that he went to sleep without closing his bedroom door, a breach in his personal security protocol that gives him the shivers.
 He and the cats have had an ongoing battle about this over the past week.  At first they hadn’t seemed interested in coming into Bucky’s room, content to do their hidey-cat thing on their own every night.  But then Mittens and the orange striped one (named Miss Kitty Fantastico, for some curious reason, but Bucky just calls her Miss Kitty) started sneaking in when he wasn’t looking, and resisted being tossed out when he was ready to turn in.
 Now one or the other of them (or both?  How he is supposed to tell?) have taken to meowing outside his closed door, and scratching on it, until he opens it and yells at them, which is frankly irritating. He honestly can’t remember if he gave in last night and left the door open on purpose, or if Mittens managed to open it herself (seems unlikely, but she’s a very persistent cat when she sets her mind to it).
 In any case, it’s not even six a.m., and Mittens is happily purring up a storm and kneading her paws over his stomach.  Bucky reaches down and pets her ears, and she pushes back into his hand, her fur soft against his fingers.  It’s not the worst way to wake up.
 Bucky has been back to Skipper’s three times since the Thursday he got hot wings, and he hasn’t been disappointed yet.  He is beginning to suspect that they are getting the slogans for their bar signs on the internet, as they keep changing (“Soup of the Day:  Whiskey” is one of his favorites, although he also appreciates “Come in and try the worst rum & coke that guy on Yelp ever had in his life.”)
 Tonight the sign reads “Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder” and Bucky shakes his head.  It’s barely funny.  But it’s not going to stop him from going inside.  
 He sits down at the end of the bar, where he can easily see most of the room, and nods to Henry. They have a system going – Henry suggests a new beer each night, and Bucky drinks it.  Works for everyone.  This time he orders a hamburger with pineapple (it sounds like it wouldn’t taste good, but it does), and spicy fries.  
 He’s barely placed his order when he notices a man seated towards the back of the restaurant looking decidedly out of place in a baseball cap and sunglasses.  It only takes a slight shift of the man’s shoulders for Bucky to recognize him, and he’s out of his seat before he even fully realizes what he’s doing.
 “What the hell are you doing here?”  Bucky hisses, metal hand slamming harder than he intended on the table.
 Steve looks up at him, eyes hidden behind the sunglasses, and then grabs Bucky by the arm and tugs him down into the chair next to him.  “Bucky?”
 “Is that a test?” Bucky spits out.  “What happened to respecting my wishes?”
 But Steve is shaking his head, cursing under his breath, and Bucky is very confused.  “No, fuck, no, I did, I swear I did, mean I do, this isn’t-”
 “Isn’t what, Steve?”
 “Lower your voice, please,” Steve pleads, taking off the sunglasses and glaring at him.  “I’m supposed to be under cover!”
 “What?  Steve, what are you talking about?”
 “I’m not here for you – I’m working a case.  Don’t keep saying my name.”
 The adrenaline is seeping out of him, and Bucky pulls in a long breath.
 “You’re not watching me.”
 Steve huffs out a laugh. “Well, I am now.  But no.  I didn’t even know you were here.”
 Bucky rests his forehead on the table, unable to meet Steve’s gaze.  “Fuck.”
 “It’s all right.”  He hears Steve taking a few deep breaths. “I’d have been mad, too.”  
 The waitress comes over with a soda for Steve (of course he doesn’t even order a beer) and mildly asks if Bucky wants his food brought over from the bar.
 Bucky looks up at Steve’s hopeful face, imagines sitting here shooting the shit with Steve while he munches on a hamburger and fries, and suddenly it’s too much.  “No. No, I’ve got to go.”  
 He avoids looking at Steve while he pulls cash out of his wallet.  He can well imagine the disappointed look on his face.
 “I’m sorry, Bucky,” Steve whispers as Bucky stands up.  “I didn’t mean-”
 But Bucky doesn’t hear the rest of the apology – he’s already gone.
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