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itsgoghtime · 7 months

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Here You Come Again

CW : angsty hurt/comfort (hurt part doesn’t last very long), Ray is a little ooc again, Ray being the sweet honey saccharine boy that he is (it’s his favorite time of year)

Words : 3842

"Do you ever wonder if the universe brings people together?"

"Do you ever wonder if the universe can pull them apart?"

"Nah, that's improbable."

1989 - New York City

There's always something about autumn that inspires magic in the soul.

Maybe it's the changing leaves.

Maybe it's the events.

Maybe it's because I was in love once during this season.

Definitely not that last one.

Granted, I had always loved autumn. The colors change into deep and rich tones that just draw the eyes in. The smells, the sights, the fact that my entire wardrobe that had only really ever consisted of sweaters finally came into play.

Autumn was just the best season.

It was. Now, I just connected it to someone who was no longer around. Didn't help his favorite holiday was Halloween.

After the success of Ghostbusters saving New York (and covering it in marshmallow), Ray and I had dated steadily for some time. A few years. Until, Ghostbusters went under.

"Ray, please. There has to be something we can do..."

"Hun, I'm sorry. There isn't... the business has gone under - I can't ask you to stay here, when I can't provide for you. You deserve someone who can."

"Ray, I don't want to leave - I'll find another job, work as many hours as it takes... please, don't end this between us."

Ray shook his head, letting go of my hand with tears in his eyes.

"I can't."

"Ray, I don't want to be with the business. I want to be with you."

He couldn't even face me when I walked out the door.

It had been two years since I had moved into a little apartment upstate. I found a job proofreading and editing books.

This fall - I was finally working up the desire to go out and do stuff again. Governors Island, the Jack O'Lantern blaze, maybe a haunted house, if I could convince myself I could do it alone. I couldn't let my hurt heart dictate what I was doing anymore.

Todays adventure, the Brooklyn Book festival.

My eyes were as big as dinner plates - I was absolutely amazed at how many books there were, as I had been every year. I took my time meandering, running my hands along the different covers and buying a few every now and then.

I came across a booth with all sorts of paranormal books. It made me smile, remembering how much Ray loved this sort of stuff. I looked through a few of the books before the person running the stand approached.

"How can I... oh my gosh, is that...there's no way..." The familiar voice said, calling my name and I froze.

I looked up and saw Peter Venkman. Just who I didn't want to run into.

"Hey, Peter. Long time no see."

"Yeah, that's about right. Good heavens woman, you've grown up so much!" He laughed. Peter, from the beginning, had taken it upon himself to be an annoying older brother, even though we were only a few years apart in age.

"Yeah, tends to happen to a person when you don't see them for a long time." I chuckled with him.

"How have you been? What have you been up to? Why haven't you come to visit?" Peter was asking interrogation questions at lighting speed, and I answered as short as I could, trying to keep up with him.

"Ray should be back soon, wanted to go find a hot chocolate stand he said you had gone to a few years back. Said they had..."

"...apple cider doughnuts..." I finished for Peter, my look becoming distant. He was still talking about me? "I think I'll just buy this book, if you don't mind." I handed Peter cash, which he took and let me take the book.

"I'll go find him - he'd want to see you." He was absolutely oblivious to my anxious expression - which was normal, for him anyways.

He turned around, and I bolted. I could hear Ray's voice approaching, and heaven knows I didn't want to see him yet. It was enough to see Peter. But Ray?

I immediately returned home, knowing that Peter would look for me throughout the festival to bring me back to the booth.

Arriving home was like retreating to a safe room. I leaned against the door, curling up at the bottom as I slid down.

There's no way.

I reflected back on conversations with Ray - about the universe and it's influence on people meeting.

We had gone over different theories - religions, philosophies, even just theories regular people talked about - soulmates, those sorts of things. Luck versus fate versus no sort of outside influence.

I didn't like thinking about the fact that we had concluded that conversation with the thought that maybe - just maybe - the universe had brought us together.

And then, consequently, that same universe seemed to tear him from me. Or was it just us, denying the pull to each other?

I didn't know anymore, as I sat with my back to my door.

———

Over the next week, I tried to forget about my interaction with Peter. I dove into my books in the evenings, as usual. The paranormal book sounded oddly familiar as I went through it's pages - I discovered the author had consulted with Ray and Egon on their research.

I put the book down.

Why did it seem that even though I had gone two years, without any sort of contact or closure - and now, as the wound had finished healing over, it was opened right back up with one conversation?

I couldn't quite put it together.

In the morning, my coworker came into my office, giggling.

"What's up?" I asked, not looking up from the manuscript I was looking through.

"There's someone here to see you. Says it's important."

"Oh, yeah, I was going to have a meeting with th..."

"No, someone else. It's not your author conference." She laughed again, stepping aside.

Ray Stantz.

In my office.

My eyes slowly moved over him, trying to convince my mind that he was real. His hands shook slightly with the yellow flowers in his hands, and that same soft, nervous smile was on his face.

I was in shock for a moment, and stood to meet him.

"Hey." I whispered, a smile finding its way to my lips.

"Hey yourself." His voice was just as gentle as I remembered.

My coworker skipped out of the office, leaving Ray and I to stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. He finally came out of his trance, and chuckled a little.

"These - are for you." He handed me the flowers and I smiled.

"Thanks." It took me another moment, but I set the flowers down. "Stantz, why are you here? Moreover, how did you know to find me here?"

"Well, it's a pretty simple story, actually. Peter mentioned he saw you at the Brooklyn Book Festival that we used to go to every year. He said you didn't give him a lot of details about what you were doing, so in true Venkman fashion, he looked you up. Found out where you were working, the usual." He looked so guilty - even though he wasn't the one to blame.

I had to laugh at his expression, which seemed to ease him a bit.

"Venkman... that little gunner snipe."

"Funny you say that, those were my exact words when I found out he had invaded your privacy like that." He chuckled.

"Ray, it's alright. I knew by the look in his eyes when I ran into him - he wasn't going to let me off the hook that easy."

"Oh, good. I was afraid you'd be mad."

"I couldn't be, even if I tried."

Our laughter ceased, and then, it became a little awkward.

"Well, it was nice seeing you, Ray."

"Nice to see you too." His voice was quiet, like he had been before he had asked me out for the first time. He moved to leave my office, before turning around in the doorway.

I should have known.

"Hey, can we catch up sometime? Meet up for coffee somewhere?"

I smile, trying to hide the excitement that his question just brought me.

"Yeah, that would be good."

Before Ray could respond, Venkman was in the doorway with him.

"Hey you! Good to see you all set up in your office!" He called with a jovial tone that was laced with sarcasm.

"Hey Peter. So stalking people is your new hobby, eh?"

"No, just stalking you for one of my best friends in the whole wide world." He clapped Rays shoulder. "Even when he didn't ask for it. I'm an under appreciated talent, you know!"

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Now get out of my office, I have a conference soon."

Peter chuckled and blew me a sarcastic kiss that I pretended to catch and threw it back at him. Ray went to go with him, but I called to him, and he stopped to look at me.

"I'm pretty booked up until Thursday - but you could come and pick me up from my apartment at 6 and we can catch up then. If you're not busy, that is."

"Thursday works perfect. I'll see you then." His smile brightened and that familiar sparkle came back - I stood in a little shock as he walked out the door.

———

I found myself watching the clock on Thursday with impatience. Time wouldn't move any faster, and I was only halfway through the day.

Unable to focus on my manuscript, I sat back in my chair and let myself think.

I couldn't believe myself.

I ran into Peter Venkman once. Once, mind you.

And a week later, Ray Stantz showed up unannounced at my office, asking me to catch up.

I should have been mad. I should have been pushing them both away.

But... I couldn’t.

There's something about this whole situation that I just...

Yeah, Ray Stantz waltzed right in the door, just like he had done so many times before, and he wrapped my heart around his little finger.

I looked back up at the clock. It's 4:30.

I scowled. Of course, I just had to think about something other than work and now, work is almost over.

Should've done that earlier.

——

5:55. I'd been pacing my apartment for fifteen minutes.

I had arrived home from work at five, showered, dried and recurled my hair, spent fifteen minutes deciding what to wear before settling on my favorite sweater - the cream one with the little orange and red leaves on it - and sweatpants and sneakers.

5:57. The doorbell rings.

I rushed towards the door, and then took a minute to collect myself. He didn’t need to know how eager I was to see him. Yet.

Opening the door held the same emotion as opening presents on Christmas. I tried to push that feeling away, but seeing Ray in his button up and jeans wearing that leather jacket I had always been obsessed with...

It put me over the edge. I knew exactly what was happening.

I was falling for Ray Stantz all over again.

"Hey, sorry, I hope it's okay that I'm a little early." He nervously chuckled, and I had to pull myself out of my trance to respond, almost a little too late.

"No, no! That's totally fine." I chuckled, not able to hide my stupidly big smile. It seemed to ease Ray, who smiled back.

"Oh, good."

"Where did you want to go get coffee?" I asked, trying to calm my heart down.

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to go get cider at that stand we used to go to every year. If that's okay, of course." I took note of the blush that appeared on his cheek as he said this.

Little did he know, my stomach started boiling with butterflies.

I nodded softly in response. "I'd love that."

He offered me his arm, which I took, and we began to walk down the street towards the Ecto-1.

"I asked Winston if I could borrow his car, but he said he was going to a drive-in movie upstate and needed it. Sorry, I didn't mean to bring Clarisse on this excursion."

"Ray, it's alright. I've missed the old gal." I squeezed his arm, trying to let him know he was doing alright by me. It seemed to have worked, because he stopped apologizing for everything.

He opened the door for me, like the gentleman he had always been, and went around and climbed into the front seat before driving away.

All of our time together was the happiest I had felt in a long time. The most unadulterated, genuine happiness.

The cider was good, but it didn't compare at all in sweetness to Ray. I hadn't realized how much I had missed him until I spent a couple hours with him.

On the way back to my apartment, the two way radio in Ecto-1 buzzed. Ray answered it, still laughing at something I had said.

"Stantz here."

"Ray, there's a call that just came in. It's in your area, would you be able to answer?"

Ray looked at me, wearing his leather jacket that he had insisted putting on me when I got cold, and his heart fluttered. There was guilt in his eyes, and he shook his head.

"No, I can't tonight."

"Ray," Peter's voice chided. "I know you're on your date with your little friend, but it'll be just like old times if you go. Come on, I don't want to go on this one tomorrow cause it's out of the way from the rest of them on the schedule. Please?"

I looked at Ray, who just kept looking more guilty by the second.

"Hey," My voice caught his attention. "It's okay, we can go. I'd love to see the gear in action again." I didn't tell him that I also just didn't want him to leave yet.

Ray's eyes lit up, and he answered Peter.

"I'll be there."

Within just a few minutes, we arrived at the apartment complex of whoever had called. I watched Ray put the Proton pack on, and my breath hitched in my throat. I had seen him do this a hundred times before, but it was just so much more attractive every time he did it. This instance was no different.

Without warning, he held out the trap, which brushed my hand slightly, pulling me from my lovesick trance again.

"What?"

"Do you wanna come? It's easier with two people." His hand was still outstretched with the trap. I smiled, and took the trap from his hands, which seemed to make him happy.

We were buzzed up to the apartment, and the owner explained to us that their rug had taken a life of its own and was trying to wrap itself around anyone that entered the apartment. Ray assured them we would take care of it, and they thanked him, going to their neighbor's apartment to find refuge.

Ray turned to me before we went into the apartment. He pulled a pair of goggles that had been attached to his pack, and began to put them on my head.

"Helps so you can see the trap better than I'll be able to when it's open. Just switch the button when I give you the signal and we should be good to go. Easy as pie."

I smiled, feeling him adjust the goggles to fit my head.

"Alright."

Ray turned the proton pack on, and for a moment, just looked at me in the goggles. His eyes sparkled with affection before he slowly turned the doorknob.

At first, we didn't see the rug. But sure enough, it was hiding in a corner. Ray smiled at me, and I held the trap, ready to roll it across the floor on its little wheels when he was ready.

His proton stream wrestled with it a few times - slime covering us both at different moments. But surely, he caught the entity in the stream, and I rolled the trap over and opened it up. It swallowed the ghost, leaving the crumpled rug on top of it.

We stood there for a second in shock, staring at the limp rug, before beginning to laugh.

I stood up, and just like second nature, we hugged each other as we laughed. It felt like old times, like Peter had said it would.

After a minute or so, we pulled apart, both blushing profusely.

"You... uh... you did good with the trap." Ray said softly as he looked at his feet.

"You did good with the proton laser beam... thing..." I looked over at him, and we both laughed again.

The car ride home was just as fun as the rest of our evening. We talked about how the call went, how the evening in general went, and we laughed as we compared how much slime we both had.

"Oh, Ray... your jacket..." I gasped when I realized it too, was covered in slime. I looked at it where I had put it in the backseat of Clarisse.

"It's fine - it's been through a few calls before. Doesn't hurt it any, especially..." His voice went quiet. I tilted my head, furrowing my brow in curiosity.

"Especially what?"

Ray thanked his lucky stars it was dark, because his blush deepened. "Especially because it's being worn by someone beautiful like you."

I bit my lip, smiling widely. Realizing it was a little awkward again, I diverted the conversation to when he had worn this jacket on other calls. He excitedly told me about his recent adventures with the jacket, and even a few without.

He arrived at my apartment, and opened my door for me again. We walked arm in arm to my door, and my heart sunk a little. I had so much fun, I didn't want him to leave.

I turned to look up at him after I unlocked my front door. I picked a piece of slime out of his hair - his hair was still as soft as I had remembered.

"Thanks." He chuckled.

"No, thank you. For an extremely fun evening." I practically whispered. Despite my better judgement, I cupped his cheek in one hand and kissed the other, lingering for a moment. I noticed his hand came to meet my elbow before I pulled away.

I took a step back towards my door and smiled at both our blushes.

"Same time next week?" I asked, my brain screaming at me for being so forward.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Ray smiled widely at me. "You have a good night."

"You too." I watched him walk to Ecto-1, and watched him wave at me before driving away.

I was smitten. Head over heels in love. Again.

The next couple weeks, I found myself having Ray over more often than just once a week. We spent a significant amount of time together, when I wasn't working and he wasn't on a call. But sometimes, he would bring me lunch at work, or we'd go out together, and we'd get to see each other then too.

Things remained neutral - we weren't holding hands or anything. My heart ached for it, but I wasn't sure how he felt.

One evening - a Thursday, to be exact - Ray appeared at my doorstep after I was home from work. I had opened the door to see him in an orange flannel - one of his favorites back when we were dating, because I had told him I loved it.

"You'll want to wear a sweater. That cream one with the leaves that you love would work just fine." Ray stated, trying to act nonchalant, while his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Where are we going?" I called from my room. I decided to wear outfit I had put on for our first... excursion. I couldn't bring myself to call it a date, because he hadn't mentioned that it was.

"It's a surprise..." His voice just rang with suspicious happiness. Stepping out of my room, his smile only widened when he saw my outfit. "We're practically matching!"

I chuckled. "Yeah, we are."

"You don't get motion sickness, right?"

"No...? Why...? Oh." I laughed a little harder when Ray blindfolded me. He picked me up into his arms under the premonition that 'I don't want you tripping'. I forgot how strong his arms felt as I was in them. It made me sad when he put me in the car and buckled me in, because I didn't get to be in his arms anymore. Heaven knows I wasn't going to voice that, though.

I heard Ray go back around the car and get into the drivers seat.

"Comfortable?"

"As much as one who feels like they're being kidnapped can be." I chuckle. "If I throw up later it is totally your fault."

He just laughed, and put us in motion.

I didn't get sick like I thought I might, and soon, he unbuckled me and picked me back up into his arms.

"How long do I have to wear the blindfold for?" I asked, laughing a little more.

"Not much longer." He held me a little tighter, walking a short distance before putting me back down on the ground. Still standing so close, he took my blindfold off and leaned down towards my ear.

"Welcome, to the Great Jack-O-Lantern Blaze."

My eyes adjusted to the light, but when I was able to focus, I gasped excitedly.

I was in the middle of it all. The lights and the pumpkins were fantastic. The smell of pumpkin flavored things surrounded us, and it brought such nostalgia. I turned to Ray.

"This... this is where..."

"Where we had our first date. I remember." Ray's expression was soft as he looked down at me.

I looked up at him, the nostalgia and the longing and the love written all over my expression.

"Letting you go was the worst mistake I've ever made. The last few weeks, I've been happier than I've been in a long time. I... I want to ask you if you'd consider dating me. Steady. Again."

I smiled bashfully, and I looked at my feet for a moment.

"Ray Stantz, you've had me since we got slimed on that call together."

Ray's smile widened, but his eyes still held some anxiety. He didn't say anything for a minute, but it didn't bother me. I stepped forward, cupping his sweet face in my hands as the distance between us lessened.

"Now, you just stay right there, because I am gonna love you to death."

Our lips finally met - after a month of fantasizing about it, he kissed me just like I had imagined, but better. His arms came around me, closing the remaining distance between us as my fingers combed through his soft hair.

The Great Jack-O-Lantern Blaze had been a success this year, at least according to Ray.

#ray #ray stantz x reader #ray stantz #ray x reader #ghostbusters #reader insert #ghostbusters two #dan aykroyd #halloween oneshot #spooky season

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orpheusredux · 2 years

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2,10 and 32 for the nsfw asks list.

Thank you 😍

Hi! Thanks for being responding to this call out! Just a reminder, these questions and responses are STRICTLY 18+, do not ask or comment or even look if you are a minor. Anyway, I just got Eddie's reply so I'll pass it over to him:

Hey @ziasaph how you doin’?

Let’s see what you… woah…. Getting straight to the real talk, huh? OK.

2: Rough sex or soft sex?

Do I really have to choose?

Like, there will be times when you find yourself having the slowest, softest, most romantic fuck you’ve ever experienced - and the next minute, you’re pounding her into the mattress - at her request, mind - while she pulls your hair and calls you names so filthy you’d want to wash your own mouth out with soap. It’s called ‘being in the moment’ and I’m all the fucking way into it.

The only preference I really have is that everyone is on board. Like, not just, “gee, I don’t know… OK, I guess?”. I mean if you want me to choke you, I want, “CHOKE ME LIKE AN ANIMAL, YOU SICK FUCK”, or words to that effect.

I’m not into choking, myself. I get that other folks are. Each to their own. You should, you know, discuss that shit though, before getting into it, and only do it with someone you know and trust. I’m not shitting around.

All bets are off if you find yourself in one of those situations where your hormones have gotten the better of your head commonly known as “hate fucking”. Becky Simpson knows what I’m talking about. That bitch bites.

Sometimes, though, when you’ve gone and caught feelings you don’t want to be too rough. It’s not that you don’t care about their basic, you know, humanity when you’re getting rough. Sometimes you just want to make that person feel, you know, cherished.

I’ve only - I’ve only had that kind of experience once, and it was pretty intense. You don’t need to get rough when it’s like that. Your fucking feelings are rough enough.

10: Have you ever been caught masturbating?

Oh my God. OK, yes, twice.

The first time - and this if fucking terrible - I was 13, and my old man was out of choky for five fucking minutes, so we were all walking on egg shells around the house.

My mom - God, she was so sweet natured, and I was such a little jerk. Ah, shit. Gimme a minute.

OK, I’m alright. So… where was I? So,I was stressed out with dad being home and I was spending all my time in my room. Gareth, that sweet little pervert, had taken pity on me and allowed me to borrow his Precious - his 1984 November edition of Hustler, with the, you know, the-the ‘gynecological’ shots.

So I’m hiding out in my bedroom, my mom’s hiding out in the laundry at the other end of the house, and my old man on his fat ass in the lounge with a beer, sitting between us.

Now, I’m 13, and by this stage I’ve been spanking it for a while, but I’ve never come. I mean, I’ve come, but never blown a wad. Sorry for the TMI.

So, anyway, I can take the anticipation no longer, and I whip out Gareth’s treasure trove of spank material, and I get to it. By the time I get to Miss November, I’m in fucking love here. I’m spanking it like my life depends on it.

Mom’s doing my laundry. But then I guess the fucking cycle ends, and she brings a pile of my clean fucking clothes into my room, and I swear to God, it goes like this:

The door opens, Mom walks in, cops a load of me with my junk in my hand and Miss fuckin’ November spread eagle on my lap, and screams. Not just a shocked yelp, it’s a full on Friday the 13th Halloween scream like she’s being murdered. And I just - I just splooge for the first time, all over Gareth’s prized copy of Hustler.

My fuckin’ dad thinks one of his old drug buddies is trying to break into the house or some shit, and he comes steaming in, goddamned shot gun blazing and he blows a fucking hole in the wall of the double wide, only to realise what’s really going on when he sees my mom with her hands over her eyes, my room covered in clothes and spunk, and me with my pants round my ankles trying to cover my dick with a copy of Hustler.

Anyway, the neighbors called the cops, and my Dad’s parole conditions said no weapons, so pfft, he ends up straight back inside. So, I died of shame, but it was for a good cause.

The second time was… well, it was way sexier, but I don’t want to talk about it right now. Let’s just say it didn’t involve my mom or the fucking 5-0.

32: Have you ever tasted yourself? [If no, would you?] [If yes, what did you think?]

Holy shit, of course! Like, when I was a kid, all the time. Not so much now, unless…

Well, I mean, I’m not a huge fan of BJs, I think I’ve said this before. But, you know when someone you care about blows you, and she lets you come in her mouth?

And it feels fucking incredible, because it was her, and she wanted to do that for you.

And you look down at her, and she is just so fucking beautiful, you don’t know how you got so lucky. And she’s smiling this shy, giddy little smile back at you because she just made you come your goddamn brains out.

Her big blue eyes, and her face all tear stained, but she’s happy because she knows, she knows, she is the reason you’re having trouble speaking and like co-ordinating your fucking limbs…

And you have to kiss her, right? You -you have to. So you pull her up off her knees, and you hold her sweet, sweet body close, and you press your mouth to hers, and slip your tongue past her lips, past her cute little crooked teeth, and you taste yourself there? So, you know you’ll be inside her for hours. All fucking day, she’s carrying you with her. That’s…that's... ah, shit. Gimme another minute.

----

Naw, eddie... don't cry buddy!

Check out the list of questions if you want to ask Eddie anything. And don't forget to check out my AO3 and my masterlists.

Also, I hate to ask, but would you consider reblogging? It really does help!

(CAVEAT: Y'all know this isn't really Eddie, right? Because he is a fictional character. This is a writing exercise. I have no connection or relationship to the Duffers or Stranger things. I'm just fooling around)

#eddie munson #eddie my beloved #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson headcannon #ask eddie

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buckysswinter · 2 years

Text

begin again- ii

18+ minors dni

warnings: fluff?, bucky is nice for a change

not edited or beta’d- do not repost or translate!

art professor!bucky barnes x f! student! reader

<<previous part | next part>>

the way the clay felt on her hands were mesmerizing, the muddy texture calming her. she hadn't realized how much time has passed until she didn't feel the warmth of the blazing sun on her skin. when she looked up she saw professor barnes walking, he was struggling to hold various items.

she should help him- well why would she? he ridiculed her to the point of embarrassment.

no matter how much y/n hated professor barnes, the kindness of her heart persevered. she got up and cleaned her hands, running over to where professor barnes was.

-"hey do you need help?" her voice meek as if she was scared he'd sneer at her. he looked at her as if she was crazy, the disbelief apparent in his face.

-"uh yeah, that would be helpful thank you ms. y/l/n" he seemed flustered? y/n barely noticed the red tinged on his cheeks and the way his voice faltered as he accepted her offer.

-"no problem and please you can just call me by my first name, y/n" bucky couldn't believe how she was treating him after what he did, he had expected her to just watch him struggle.

as he looked at her, he noticed the flower embroidery on her dress, the pastel colors going well with the off-white base fabric. then his eyes went to her hair, the dark waves of her hair with traces of clay on it made him smile.

-"thank you ms. y/n, i'm sorry for the situation earlier." she thought he'd never acknowledge it, his blatant apology catching her off guard.

-"oh, uhm, it's okay. i mean it is your job," she was still embarrassed that he had called her out in such a manner but y/n didn't feel like outwardly expressing her true feelings to him.

he nodded at her and made his was to his car, y/n following him silently. she was surprised to see a ferrari on the lot, who was rich enough to afford such a car?

professor barnes suddenly stops in front of it, fishing his keys out and unlocking the doors. her mouth was wide open, why would he keep teaching if he had enough money to afford a vintage 60s ferrari?

-"thank you for the help again ms. y/n. i expect to see you in class tomorrow." bucky did really appreciate the help and before he could start loading the items, she spoke up.

-"this is your car? you own a vintage 60s california spider competizione?" bucky was surprised she knew cars.

-"i'm impressed you know your cars ms. y/n. and yes i do own it," he smiles at her and she just nodded dumbfoundedly.

-"uh, see you tomorrow professor barnes," she was too stunned to speak. the nonchalance in his voice shows that he had been asked the questions way too many times.

she turns around to walk away from him and he grabs her hand, the action electrifying both of them.

-"i am really sorry about what i said earlier, when i saw you in the greenhouse i've realized the passion you have for art." she gulped, his hand still holding hers.

-"as i said professor, it's ok. goodbye now, see you tomorrow." she took her hands off of his and walked away.

what y/n failed to realize was bucky struggled with the items he was carrying because he saw her. the way the sunlight reflected on her skin made her look ethereal, almost as if she was a muse in a lake calling out to him. the way her hands molded the clay and the way her eyes were relentlessly focused on her work made him stumble. never had he seen someone carry the same passion he had for art. and as she let go of his hand, his eyes saddened, the electrifying feeling gone from his heart.

bucky watches her walk away to return to where she was and he drove away. on his drive home he focused on the feeling he felt when he saw her, touched her and he even thought of how she smelt, like fresh berries and vanilla. he smiled at the thought of her and before he could even think about it more he chastised himself.

this was his student, one who merely helped him because he was struggling. get it together.

as y/n packed her things away, she wondered about the electrifying feeling she felt. the way his warm hands reached up for her cold ones. she thought about how he smelt, hints of amber and bergamot; she smiled at the thought of him. her heart fluttered at the thought of a possible crush on her professor.

bucky walked in his empty house, the darkness welcoming him. when he turned the dim lights on, he immediately went to the kitchen cooking himself something simple to eat.

if only this barren house had someone to welcome him maybe he'd enjoy coming home more. if someone had wanted him for who he was instead of his money he's be settled down by now.

the aura of his own mocked him, dark and lonely, just like he was. he wanted to settle down, to have a family, but the girls that chased after him were not enough to fulfil the content of his heart. he hasn't had a proper relationship in years, casual fuck here and there.

maybe she could be the one to light this place up, make it more lively.

he had to stop thinking of her but no matter what distraction he tried to pull out of his ass, she never seemed to leave his mind.

tags: @turbolisedcomet @buckyinluv

#sebastian stan #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan fanfic #bucky x female reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes #professor barnes #professor bucky

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themaribatpit · 3 years

Text

Jasonette July Day 1: Suit Up

EDIT: Written by The Maribat Pit Content warning: Swearing, there is a quote that is a reference to Titans!Jason, references to Chloe’s actions in “Battle of the Miraculous”. Rated: T Inspired by: that one Tumblr post that suggested what would happen if Jason used a Lucky Charm. Prompt: Suit Up The kidnappers had Marinette, and Jason knew that desperate times called for desperate measures. Marinette hadn’t returned home from her mission the night before, Plagg returned that morning without her. He explained that Marinette had managed to free most of the kidnapped kids, but she was captured shortly after being depowered. They assumed she was one of the kids that hadn’t managed to escape.

Jason went from slightly worried to absolutely frantic. Roy was still in rehab, and there was no time to call in the Bat clan for help, it was up to him. In his mind, the more time they wasted, the closer she came to sharing his fate. “Great, just fucking fantastic”, he muttered to himself “the bad guys have the girl you love and you’re here looking for her jewelry”. If he went in guns blazing as the Red Hood, they would probably just kill her instantly and without a second thought. That being said, she would probably kill him later for tearing through the apartment like this. He was flipping the bed on its side, opening all the drawers and pulling out all of the contents. He was trying to find the Chinese Miracle Box, thinking maybe someone in there would help him if it meant saving their Guardian. He remembered a conversation they had when his curiosity about her powers got the better of him.

“So what if you were to, hypothetically, use several of these things at once?” He remembered asking.

“I did once, the Multimouse clones were using different fusions. Wearing them all at once can be pretty draining, even the fusions can be pretty taxing at the best of times if I’m not careful” she explained.

She also explained what happened when her old classmate tried to put on various Miraculous at once and started demanding power from them. Suffice it to say she didn’t get her way. So, by the sound of things, Tikki was his best bet, or he’d probably end up pissing off the other ones like Chloe did.

He found the box in her closet and opened it, to find that Plagg’s ring was missing and so were Tikki’s earrings. He closed the box and pushed it back into the closet, before searching the room for the earrings. She had said something before about Plagg and Tikki being the least suspicious of him. Probably because their combined magic was what created the Lazarus pits, the very reason he wasn’t still six feet under. He finally noticed the small red and black box sitting on the chest of drawers, and he popped it open to find the earrings inside. He wasted no time putting the studs in one ear, before a pink ball of light appeared in front of him. The ball of light turned into Tikki who gave a little stretch and yawn before being startled to see Jason instead of Marinette in front of her. “Hey Tikki, sorry, no time to explain but Marinette’s in trouble” he spluttered, “please I need your help, I wouldn’t be asking otherwise”.

“If that’s true, then there’s no time to waste, let’s go!” Tikki exclaimed, “Just say the words and I’ll help you.” Jason’s mind suddenly drew a blank, as he tried to remember what words Marinette used to transform into Ladybug.

“Bug Prism Power Make Up?” he tried.

“He doesn’t know the magic words?” Plagg asked slyly, “our Guardian’s life is on the line and he doesn’t know the magic words”.

“I know that you’d make a nice chew toy for Brutus”, Jason snapped as he tried to think. “Go go Lucky Charm?” he tried, Tikki shook her head.

“Lucky charm usually comes a bit later” she rubbed the back of her head, “keep trying, if Marinette is in trouble, then she needs our help”.

“Okay let me think, uh…It’s Magic Time? Ladybug Up? In brightest day, in blackest night...?” He kept throwing out suggestions, but Tikki continued to shake her head. “Uh, Shazam?” he had to give that one a try at least once, Tikki sighed.

Tikki thought it was admirable watching him at least trying to figure it out, even if Plagg was no help at that moment. It was clear to the little Kwami, she didn’t need to look that hard to know that this boy cared deeply for Marinette, even if he was hesitant to admit it at first. Tikki remembered gently encouraging Marinette to confess her feelings towards him, while Roy and Jason’s brothers took a more…direct approach.

“All right Jason, I’ll tell you the magic words but first,” Tikki told him and they both heard the Kwami’s stomach growl, breaking the awkward silence in the room. Jason remembered why Marinette usually kept a cookie on hand whenever she brought Tikki along, while the faint smell of cheese usually meant Plagg was in tow instead.

“Come on, let’s go get you a cookie” Jason said, “and some cheese for you” he shot Plagg a slightly irritated look. As Jason looked around the kitchen, the only cookies and cheese they had were the cheap stuff. Tikki tried to be polite about the fact that the oreo wasn’t going to cut it, Plagg just turned up his little cat nose at the processed American cheese. “Sorry Tikki, Marinette’s been a bit busy lately,” he told her before rounding on Plagg “what’s your problem?”

“You don’t happen to have any camembert, do you?” he asked, still refusing to even look at the slice of processed cheese.

“Camembert? Who was your last user?” Jason asked incredulously. Desperate times were calling for even more desperate measures, “just hang in there Marinette,” he thought.

Jason wouldn’t be racing over to Wayne Manor if it wasn’t a dire emergency. Tikki was safely tucked away in his jacket pocket, while Plagg was clinging to the hem of his jacket as it billowed behind him. Jason brought his motorbike to a stop just outside the gates, before hopping off darting past Damian, petting a sleeping Alfred the cat in his lap. Right now, he was hoping Alfred the human was baking something that would catch the Kwami’s eye. Sadly, he was not, a note on the kitchen door explained he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Sadly, this couldn’t wait until tomorrow. He opened the kitchen door, the cookies from Alfred’s last batch were stored in a cookie jar on top of the fridge. There was one cookie left, he unzipped his pocket and gestured to the cookie in the jar. Jason reached up and grabbed the jar, before opening it and grabbing the cookie inside. He also reached into the fridge and grabbed the camembert for Plagg. With the Kwami munching on their snacks of choice, he dashed out of the kitchen. Plagg had practically inhaled the wheel of cheese all at once, and glided alongside him. Meanwhile, Tikki clung to the cookie with one hand and the hem of Jason’s pocket with the other.

That morning, Bruce was not expecting to see Jason rushing past him. He wasn’t expecting to see a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie threatening to fly out of his jacket pocket. “Hi, can’t talk now, Marinette needs help, bye.” He called before disappearing down the hallway. Jason dashed past Dick who had just woken up, and Tim was on his way to the kitchen for some more coffee.

“Was that the last cookie?” Dick asked, slightly groggily.

“Oh that had better not be the last cookie” Tim groaned, someone had better be dying if that was the case.

Jason rushed to his motorcycle, and slammed the gate shut behind him before hopping on and putting on his helmet. Tikki was halfway through munching on the cookie, when she gave him a quick rundown of the powers that she would be giving him. Jason knew that the Miraculous granted the user enhanced speed, strength and endurance, he just hadn’t thought there would come a day when he would have to use their power. It was probably for the best that their guardian didn’t choose him when he was 13, for reasons that a bunch of guards were about to find out very soon.

Meanwhile, Marinette found herself in a cage inside a warehouse. There were two men guarding the cage, neither of them knew that Marinette was the girl in the black leather catsuit. They caught her just as the clock had run out on her powers, and they assumed she was one of the kids that had been captured. She was a petite young woman, and they found her dressed in a polka dotted hoodie, shorts and tights. She sent Plagg to go get help, and he had been gone for a few hours now. She was getting increasingly antsy, Jason was probably worried sick about her.

Jason arrived at the suspected gang hideout as fast as could, leapt off his bike and grappled to a vantage point. “Ok, relatively small time trafficking racket. Now where is Pixie Pop?” Jason thought to himself, scanning the area from his vantage point. “Plagg, go find Marinette, and tell her to not transform until I arrive.” Plagg flew out of Jason’s pocket and made his way there. “Alright Tikki, what's the magic word?” The Kwami flew out of Jason’s pocket as he spoke, Tikki glided to Jason’s ear and whispered to him the phrase. Jason repeated “Spots On” and felt power coursing through his veins. It felt like Venom without the addictive or berserk tendencies, pure energy was flowing through him. He felt the uncontrollable urge to pose and move with the flow of energy, doing a flourish of kicks and punches. It ended with him raising his left leg to his head, as if it was a vertical split and slamming it down. “Owwwwwwwwwwww” Jason groaned, “My thighs were not meant to do that.” He was not expecting the compulsive flourishes for the transformation itself.

Jason looked at his reflection in a nearby puddle, he could see he was wearing a full spotted suit and domino mask like Ladybug, yet his leather jacket stayed during the transformation and received its own ladybug pattern. Jason sucked up the pain and pushed onwards to the gang hideout.

Jason snuck in through a vent and approached a large main room, housing most if not all of the guards and their “merchandise” with cages strewn across the room with mostly women and children locked up. He finally sees Marinette, alive but imprisoned in a cage with a few other people in a corner. Jason needed a distraction so that Marinette could transform into Lady Noire. He had to do something to take the attention off every single person in the room.

Jason sighed and thought of a plan, it may not be the most flattering, but it worked and it would not be so threatening as cutting out the lights. He burst from the air vents and landed in a crouch, standing straight and shouting “Halt Evildoers, it I...Red Bug?”

This indeed worked as planned, as every guard, goon and hostage set their eyes on the intruder. The guards began pointing and laughing, “Good, they don't think I’m a threat” thought Jason. The guards underestimating Red Bug was what he needed, so that they would not find him threatening or harm anyone just yet.

Marinette took this opportunity to transform into Lady Noire. She wasted no time and began with Cataclysm, bringing down all the cages and making her way to Jason’s position. Both Lady Noire and Red Bug began fighting the guards, buying the hostages time to make their escape. As the last person successfully escaped the gang hideout, both Lady Noire and Red Bug stood side by side. More of them began to trickle in as they heard the commotion and began to surround the pair.

Marinette needed to think fast, she didn't have much time left after casting Cataclysm. She said to her partner, “Lucky Charm, Now!” Red Bug raised his eyebrow, “Lucky Charm?” he repeated. He suddenly felt the same compulsion as he did during the transformation, his arm suddenly shot upward with the yo-yo spinning. He looked up to see a swarm of ladybugs converge to form...a purse? Red Bug caught the purse with a look of disbelief, Lady Noire looked around the room for a plan to use the purse. Lady Noire got a burst of inspiration and turned around to tell her partner of her cunning plan, only to be greeted by thin air. She was brought out of her stupor hearing her partner yell out “LIGHTS OUT BITCH!”. She whipped her head towards the source of the noise to see Red Bug beating the guards with the Ladybug-themed purse. “I guess that works too” she said to nobody in particular. Knowing she had little time remaining as Lady Noire, she started running for the exit. Red Bug had no issue dealing with the remaining goons. Marinette hadn’t expected Jason to suit up with one of the Miraculous, not that she was complaining. She had expected him to come charging in as the Red Hood, or maybe start by picking off the guards one-by-one. She was surprised, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one, mostly. Since leaving Chat Noir behind in Paris, the fight left her feeling oddly nostalgic. Sometimes she missed fighting alongside a Miraculous user, though Tikki might have something to say about his...unusual use of a Lucky Charm. She walked over to Jason’s parked motorcycle and waited. Within minutes Jason followed suit and walked out the front door of the hideout. A swirl of green light surrounded him as he changed back, and Tikki zoomed over towards Marinette. Tikki nuzzled against Marinette’s face for a moment, before Jason walked towards her. He pulled his girlfriend into a big hug, Marinette is left breathless for a moment as he nuzzles into her neck. He didn’t say anything, but neither of them really needed to say anything at that moment. Touched by how much Jason cared for her, Marinette returned the hug. She stayed in that warm embrace for a long moment, before reaching up and gently patting him on the head. “Let’s go home...Pixie Pop.” Jason pulled away at the mention of the nickname he gave her, and before she could react, Jason began pinching her cheeks. “What did you call me?” Jason jokingly interrogated, while Marinette giggled like an idiot. EXTRA: Jason is sitting next to Dick and Damian in the Wayne manor lounge with two ice packs on his thighs Jason: I don’t know how you do it Dickie, my thighs were not meant to do that. Dick (covers Damian’s ears): Soooo did you and Marinette…. Jason: I literally beat up some guys with a purse today, don’t push me.

#jasonette #jasonettejuly2021 #maribat

139 notes · View notes

paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 1

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Summary: Alexys is a doctor living a life of exclusivity on Raxus, hoping to survive through a peaceful existence, concealing herself from those she believes would use her, or kill her. When fate intervenes and instigates a perilous journey she'd been desperately trying to avoid, Alex finds herself caught in the middle of two sides in both war and love.

Preface: Let me say, I am immensely nervous about this. After months of back and forth inside my mind, I’ve decided to go for it and begin the long process of moving my long running series to Tumblr, along with changing the name (something I’ve wanted to do for a long time). I hit a big emotional road block after over a year of writing and posting, so I’m hoping this move will eventually get me back into the swing. But for now, I’m looking forward to revisiting the beginning of this space love triangle.

If you’ve already read the saga, absolutely NO pressure to read again. Each chapter will be edited a little, but no major plot points will change. To any newcomers who find themselves interested, the story is already posted on AO3 if you are desperate to continue. Otherwise if you prefer reading on Tumblr, or simply like the forced breaks between chapters, I’ll be posting a new chapter every couple of days. I know it’s not written as reader insert, but I just couldn’t make the story work out in any other fashion. I poured a lot of love and heart into Alexys so I hope you’ll give her a chance.

Chapter 1 - Crash Landing

Words: 3.4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: descriptions of severe injury including blood and bone, medical procedures

Read on AO3

I felt it before I heard it.

A booming crash of metal and glass, sending a shattering vibration through the walls and furniture around me. After the years of mostly silence I’d become accustomed to, the noise that came pummelling into my ears almost made me shriek in surprise. It was short lived, coming and going in a flicker so quick I had to wonder if it was real at all.

Lights began to flash, blinking rapidly in uneven time. The mixture of harsh beeps indicated something was faulting my electricity circuits, plunging me into the darkness of night over and over.

I could only question myself again at the plausibility of this being a dream, but the slow, increasing creak emanating from beyond the walls of this building brought me to a certainty.

Something had crashed outside.

Fear radiated through my limbs, leaving me stuck where I was standing for a few moments, before an uncontrollable urge of selflessness and honestly, curiosity, forced me to move and exit the safety of my clinic.

There wasn’t really a way to prepare for what I saw not metres away from my front entrance. A ship, an X-wing of some variety, was wrecked into itself, varying metals twisted and curled over each other, flames beginning to billow out from the creases. I could feel the heat of them rise as I cautiously stepped forward, taking in the scene with wide eyes. Only seconds had passed when I saw it – the movement of something – no, a person, demanding my attention. The pilot of this battered machine had been thrown just beyond the edge of its hull, broken transparisteel smattering the ground around them.

Hm, the Resistance should probably investigate their flight safety measures.

That thought quickly flittered away when the pilot moved again, this time with a painful moan echoing into the atmosphere. The switch inside quickly flipped, and an all too familiar feeling of conviction flooded through.

This is your cue Alexys.

I raced quickly to the pilot and knelt on the ground before them, fingers carefully removing the black and red helmet with both urgency and restraint as to not cause any more possible damage to their head or neck. The moan I'd heard just moments before let me know this person had some kind of airway, but it was pertinent I assess further. With the helmet gone I noticed the short, lightly waved black hair of a man, his eyes pulled closed, a few bruises and smudges of grey soot smattered over his face. His chest was moving, laboured breathing with the occasional heave on inhale.

At least he’s breathing.

“It’s alright,” I insisted. “I’m here to help you.”

There wasn’t any discernible response from the pilot other than a groan that withered away slowly, and that in itself was worrying. Kneeling over his body, I placed two fingers under the line of his jaw, halfway down, trying to feel for a pulse. I could sense the thump of blood under my fingertips, but it was too slow, too faint, too uneven.

Not great, but it was enough for now.

I began to scan over his body, knowing it was time to assess what was giving him reason to cry out in pain. There were severe burns on his left arm which had caused some of his flight suit to stick to the skin, with more scalds reaching down to his torso and abdomen. His right arm was almost definitely broken with the limb morphed into an irregular angle almost halfway along.

Without being able to look at them directly to ascertain whether I was going to be able to move him, I pressed on his hips gently, silently praying he hadn’t broken his pelvis. He muffled softly, but anyone who had actually shattered the bone would have screamed. As my eyes continued to scan down, it became obvious all too suddenly the shattered edge of his right femur bone poking out of the orange flight suit.

Kriff, this is not ideal.

I wanted to kick myself for not noticing it before, but there was no time, not with the very real possibility of him bleeding out in front of my eyes. My feet moved under me, racing back to the clinic room, knowing where the bandage and splint lay waiting, along with the anaesthetic injections I had stocked in the pharmacy cupboard.

He was certainly going to need them.

Within minutes I was back to the ground with the pilot, clicking together the injector handle and vial, piercing the needle straight into his thigh above the fracture site. I wouldn’t be able to wait for it to dull most of the pain, so internally, I braced myself for the scream I was about to elicit from this poor human's chest. The second I started to wrap the bandage around the splint, a piercing wail echoed through the air, almost causing me to hesitate. Still, my hands continued to haphazardly wrap the white material around his leg, pushing through the guilt it ignited.

Suddenly, the noise stopped.

My eyes darted to his face as his head slumped over on its side. “Hey!” I shouted into his face as I scrambled back to the top end of his limp body. “Hey can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me!”

There was no response.

I pinched at the muscle on his shoulder, harder and harder to elicit any kind of reaction. Nothing. My hand pulled into a closed fist and grinded against his sternum. “Come on, open those eyes if you can feel this!”

Still nothing.

Again I took check of his breathing, chest still rising and falling, yet shallow and with little power. His heartbeat had begun to race, but through my fingertips I could feel the strain in the muscle. Something was seriously wrong, even more so than his other injuries. Something internally. If I didn’t get him into the clinic, he was going to die.

In a snap decision, I chose to forgo an attempt to run back and locate the hover-stretcher. It would take too much time to set up and power on, time this man didn’t have. I would have to move him myself.

How the hell am I going to do this?

With my arms hooked and locked under his armpits I began to drag the pilots hefty body backwards towards the clinic behind me, thankfully only a few meters away, barely making it past the entryway when a roar of flames overtook the X-wing. I looked up to see the blaze almost completely engulfing the ship, a ferocious heat searing into my eyes and face. With even more urgency I heaved the body into the large clinic room, getting up and slamming the door just in time. Just before a house rattling explosion sent shockwaves into the atmosphere.

Lucky didn’t seem to be an appropriate feeling considering the situation I was in, but at least no one had died. Yet. With my last bit of brute strength, I hoisted the pilots limp body onto the closest hospital bed, noticing then the trail of red liquid I’d brought along with me.

Oh no no no.

With him still lifeless, I tugged at his body and limbs to lie flat on the bed, scurrying to my medical trolley and hauling it back to where the pilot laid, ragged breaths still thankfully escaping into the air. Snatching the heavy shears from the top drawer, I began to tear through the thick fabric of the flight suit, unclipping and removing as much of the life support vest and belt as I could. I had to be careful not to rip away the fabric that melted into the burns scattered all over his body, the number of them increasing as I peeled away the suit, starting from his legs, up to his abdomen and chest over to his upper arms. His torso was in full view now, a smattering of dark hair over his pectorals, underneath which showed the bruises of his crash’s impact.

Oh he’s definitely got some broken ribs.

As my gaze scanned over his skin, I could finally isolate where all that blood had escaped from. A deep penetrating wound just below the last rib on his left flank. As I registered his quick shallow breaths and the uneven rise in his chest, it became obvious.

Collapsed lung.

Whatever had pierced through his chest had poked an extremely damaging hole in his lung, the pleural space now filling with air, leaving no room for his lung to expand. My following movements were swift and calculated, almost automatic. A pointed scalpel was soon in my hand, poised to cut. But I couldn’t help but hesitate. It had been so long since I’d had to do this. And yet, somehow, concern for this stranger’s life was quick to weave it’s way through, dissolving my fear into pure resolve.

I made my incision in between the 4th and 5th ribs, using a clamp to push into the underlying tissue and past the pleural cavity, a gloved hand then entering to check I’d made it through. With an instinctive confidence, I guided the chest tube between the layers of tissue, undoing the ratchet of the clamp to an immediate rush of air. The pilot’s chest heaved in relief, along with my own.

One crisis averted.

But there was more to do. Connecting a drain to the tube, I haphazardly sutured it in place, before flying to the pharmacy cupboard. My stock of bacta was limited, returning with an already prepared vial into the pressurised injector, reminding myself I would need to use it sparingly if this stranger was going to make it through the full extend of his injuries. I had cursed at myself only a few times in the years past at being so far removed from a higher level medical centre that would be overflowing with bacta and medical droids that could help in exactly this kind of situation, but the thought had never burned me so badly. There was no way to know if I could keep this man alive with the resources that yesterday I had been more than comfortable with. I would just have to try.

I injected some of the bacta solution throughout the surrounding area of the wound and covered it with heavy dressing, knowing the bleeding would quickly be curbed. Unfortunately, the wound itself would take a few days to fully close, only ever being able to afford lower quality bacta. Before moving on to the burns, I placed some basic monitoring, lines extending from electrical dots over his chest, wrist and neck to the data monitor above the bed. As the numbers lit up on the holo screen, I felt myself breathe a small sigh of relief, having prepared for a much worse result. His heart rate was better, oxygen levels returning to normal, blood pressure not optimal by any means but high enough to sustain his life, for now.

After securing an oxygen filter over his battered face, I continued to inspect and clean as many of the small and more sizeable burns dotting his body. Even with the many I had uncovered, the one extending from his shoulder past his elbow was the one of most concern. Third degree and extremely unhappy looking. If I wasn’t quick to treat this, it could leak even more fluid from his already compromised circulatory system. I was thankful he still remained unconscious when I began to slowly shed the charred material melted into the skin layer. I couldn’t help but shudder as I remembered the initial scream this man had let out, knowing I would be hearing it now if not for his comatose state.

Covering the immense scald in as much salve as I could spare, I began to wrap it in protective antibacterial bandage, soon moving on to protect his many blisters and deeper burns with dressings. Glancing at the monitor screen, he was still stable, and swallowed hard. Now it was time to attempt possibly the most daunting part of this patient’s treatment.

His femur was still sticking through the tissue of his thigh, slightly dried dark red blood creating lightning strike looking lines extending from the wound.

I need to get some blood into him before moving this.

I quickly got to work on an IV cannula, his poor blood pressure making it significantly more difficult than it should have been. Two bags of O- blood were all I had, and a wave of dread coursed through me with the thought of that not being enough if this all went wrong. My fist squeezed the fast flow pump of the IV line, pushing fresh blood urgently into his system, making his blood pressure rise only slightly. With the last of the red liquid trickling through the line I wheeled over the portable X-Ray. It was so old the mechanical arm screeched at me as I positioned it into place over the pilot’s leg. The bone had to be at least somewhat in place before getting the bacta to work its magic or this guy might walk with two uneven legs for the rest of his life.

If he actually made it through the rest of his injuries, that is.

Shaking my arms out at my side, I sucked in a few deep breaths to build my stamina. Unfortunately, this stranger was stuck with a small framed female to attempt reducing his severe fracture. With one last inhale, I drew the courage to pull as hard as I could horizontally at the knee joint, digging my fingers into a vice grip around the limb and yanking it towards me. To my relief, the fractured edge of the femur to slipped back into the hole it was peeking out from, settling back under the skin.

Thank all the stars in the galaxy he’s not awake for this.

I quickly pressed the image button on the X-ray to assess the progress I’d made. The faint white lines of bone edges were stark enough on the grey background of the image. The fracture wasn’t reduced even nearly enough. I prepared myself again, with another deep breath I pulled hard. This time my efforts were forced into angling the lower portion of bone to try and lock it back into place. The grinding of bone edges could be felt through my fingers, pushing myself to pull even harder, creating more space between the fracture in the hope of giving a fighting chance of lining up the splintered edges. My muscles were whining, begging for this to be over, tears of exhaustion soon stinging at the edges of my eyes.

With one final twisting motion there was a sudden click.

Finally.

My relief was short lived.

It was slow at first, before racing faster. A stream of dark red blood pooling at the wound the broken bone had made.

Oh maker no.

Within moments the pace of the blood quickened. I shot my hands to the open flesh site, pressing down hard in an attempt to disturb the flow. The liquid quickly covered my gloved hands, already sure I’d sliced into the femoral artery. The pressure of my hands into the area made the blood spurt out onto my arms, my clothes, my face, everywhere. The monitor was screaming, blood pressure falling quickly. Wiping some of the hot coppery fluid away from my left eye, I slid my fingers back into the gash, moving desperately to stop the overflow before the man lying in front of me bled out, knowing it would all be my fault.

You have to do it Alexys. He will die if you don’t.

The voice nagged at me, pleading to do what it wanted.

He’s with the Resistance! If he survives, if he contacts them, they’ll find me. And they’ll know.

It is time to decide. His life. Or yours.

Seconds ticked by fleetingly, numbers flashing on the monitor trickling down, the speed of blood flow from the pilot’s leg stubbornly keeping it’s intensity.

Everything I’d done to get here, to isolate myself so no one could find me. It would all amount to nothing. My easy, albeit lonely life, would be gone. All because of this stranger.

But I couldn’t let him die. Not like this.

In one flash, I removed my hands from inside the wound, ripping off my gloves and placing two palms at either side of the leg. With closed eyes, I willed the energy out of the depths of its slumber. From the darkened corner of my mind I pulled it back into existence, opening the gate I’d locked it inside for so long, letting it finally burst through and fill up my brain. From there it down through my neck, through my chest and down my arms, right to the end of my fingertips. Its warming glow was almost comforting, friendly. I would have basked in it for a while if not for the life that hung in the balance before me.

Through the pads of my fingerprints I pushed the stream outwards, connecting past the skin of this innocent human being, and felt the overwhelming heat of pain and dimming of energy.

Hurry, he’s dying.

I began to map out the tissue of his leg, frustratingly slowly, starting at the smallest of capillaries, weaving and winding through the flesh, connecting them through the maze of fat and muscle. I could feel the sweat forming on my forehead, my breathing forced and harsh. The vessels grew bigger as I pushed the energy through, skipping past broken points of other smaller injuries. I could fix them later.

Finally, I felt a molten warmth radiating close to where the maze had guided me. Racing to it, I sensed something pushing me back, the pressure of escaping fluid holding my efforts. I’d found the cut, but now I had to somehow knit it back together.

You’re taking too long.

The alarms of the monitor started to echo with a hollow ring inside my ear, fading until I could hear almost nothing. The world around me was blurry, only the image of vessel tissue and all-consuming redness visible in my minds eye. The energy I was expending began to burn me - I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. I reached out with it, what felt like many hands grasping desperately at the severed edge of the vessel, frantic yet delicate, pulling whatever tissue I could hold back into place.

Several fringes connected, the pressure pushing forcefully against me, making it harder to hold. I couldn’t help but begin to shake at the strain, the sound of my own heart pounding over the slowing heartbeat of the pilot. My grip was already beginning to fade before I started to sew the pieces of artery back together, an ache growing behind my eyes as I pierced an invisible needle through the tissue, over and over, still clawing at the unsewn edges as I made my way around the tube.

I was so close, the tension of the fluid still being driven out of the broken seal almost overcoming me. The unseen thread had almost made its way full circle. I was almost there.

My entire body rattled with exhaustion and pain. One final thread wove itself around the artery, its abrupt closure alleviating the strain on invisible fingers that had been clutching it all together.

You did it.

The energy dissipated quickly in a rolling wave, letting it retreat back into my mind, scampering to the secluded area of my brain, hidden once more. I felt light suddenly, dizzy, the world coming back into focus, screaming alarms growing louder. It was too much, all at once.

A sharp pang of fatigue enveloped every part of my senses and I faltered back, knees giving way, slumping to the floor.

Then, there was only darkness.

Next Chapter

Tag list: @tlcwrites @roanniom @foxilayde @blackberries45 @hopeamarsu @caillea @princessxkenobi @direnightshade @mariesackler @leatherboundbirate @blowthatpieceofjunk @mylifeisactuallyamess @poedameronloverx @millenialcatlady @jynz-andtonic @lightsinthedistancee @star-killer-md @morby @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @paterson-blue

Just let me know if you would like to be removed or added, no judgement!

#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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sinshckled · 3 years

Text

━━ ╴- AGUST D, D-2 [ 2020 ] ⤷ LYRICAL STARTERS.

collection of various sentence starters from AGUST D’s second mixtape. - translations were taken from doolsetbangtan, w/ occasional help from genius ; - minor edits were made as to accomodate roleplay needs ; - feel free to change pronouns or wording as to best fit your muse !

cw: angst, depression, mentions of violence, alcohol, lots and lots of SWEARING !

━━━━━━━

TRACK ONE. — 저 달 ( Moonlight )

❝ Fuck, I’m just doing it. ❞

❝ In my head, the reality fights with the ideal tirelessly. ❞

❝ My biggest enemy is the anger inside me. ❞

❝ Sometimes I resent god, asking why he made me live a life like this. ❞

❝ Sometimes I ask myself again, ‘if it was possible to go back, would you ?’ Well, I’ll have to think more about that. ❞

❝ One moment I feel like I’ve easily earned what I have, and the next moment I’m compensated for the fucking hard work I’ve done. ❞

❝ But I’m still hungry, would this be karma ? ❞

❝ That moonlight that shines on me at dawn, it’s still the same as then. A lot changed in my life, but that moonlight is still the same. ❞

❝ Sometimes I feel like I’m a genius. Sometimes I feel like I have no talent. ❞

❝ There would be no eternity for anything. ❞

❝ Being called immortal is fucking overwhelming. ❞

❝ But the adjectives they attach to my name feel too much sometimes. ❞

❝ What can I do, I should just keep running. ❞

❝ What can I do, I should just keep hold of things that I’m grasping. ❞

❝ What can I do, I should just pay back what I’ve received. ❞

❝ If you think you’re gonna crash, accelerate even harder, you idiot ! ❞

TRACK TWO. — 대취타 ( Daechwita )

❝ Don’t forget the old days. ❞

❝ Born a slave, risen to a king. ❞

❝ Rags to riches, that’s exactly the way I live. ❞

❝ I’m sorry, but don’t worry about me ; I have lots to lose. ❞

❝ I'm about to dine on what I know is mine. ❞

❝ Not gonna lie, what a shitshow. ❞

❝ I’ve got no pretensions, just kill ’em all. ❞

❝ No exceptions, I watch you fall. ❞

❝ Who’s the king ? Who’s the boss ? ❞

❝ Everyone knows my name. ❞

❝ All shit-talk, they’ve got no game. ❞

❝ Off with their heads, ah ! ❞

❝ This country's too small to hold me in yet. ❞

❝ Who said time is money ? My time is worth more than that. ❞

❝ I'm so thankful that I'm a genius. ❞

❝ If that’s your reason for using drugs, cry me a river — you’ve just got no skills. ❞

❝ I got everything I wanted, I wonder what else I should have to feel satisfied. ❞

❝ Yeah, what's next ? ❞

❝ Here comes my reality check. ❞

❝ I only looked up ; now I want to look down and put my feet on the ground. ❞

❝ Remember my name. ❞

━━━ MORE UNDER THE CUT !

TRACK THREE. — 어떻게 생각해? ( What do you think? )

❝ What do you think ? ❞

❝ Whatever you think, I’m sorry but I don’t fucking care at all. ❞

❝ I’m sorry but I don’t care at all about how mediocre your life is, or about the fact that you can’t escape the shithole after failing. ❞

❝ Thinking that my success has anything to do with your failure… you’re fucking great at being delusional. ❞

❝ Your sense of humor is so so. ❞

❝ The fact that you're fucked is your fault, no-no? ❞

❝ We conquer it all, one by one, like we’ve been doing all this time. ❞

❝ All of you go fuck yourself, huh ! ❞

❝ The brats that boast about their money, you have to wonder how much they could've actually earnt on their own. ❞

❝ Bragging about money looks cute now. ❞

❝ We’ll go serve in the military when the time comes. ❞

❝ I hope all those bastards who tried to get a free ride by selling our names shut their mouths up. ❞

❝ At this point, I don’t have to know. ❞

❝ I don’t fucking care. ❞

❝ While this will be my last gift, this as well is luxury for you. ❞

TRACK FOUR. — 이상하지 않은가 ( Strange ) ft. RM

❝ Everything in dust, do you see ? ❞

❝ Well well well…❞

❝ Everything in lust. ❞

❝ Someone please tell me if life is pain. ❞

❝ If there’s a god, please tell me if life is happiness. ❞

❝ A big system that’s called the world ; They insert conflicts, wars, or survivals. ❞

❝ Capital injects morphine called hope with dream as collateral. ❞

❝ Wealth creates wealth and tests our greed. ❞

❝ In the world, it’s only the two, black and white, that exist. ❞

❝ In the endless zero-sum game, the end is entertaining to watch. ❞

❝ Polarization... the ugliest flower in the world. ❞

❝ It’s been a long while since truth got eaten away by lies. ❞

❝ Who would it be that benefits the most? Who would it be that gets harmed the most ? ❞

❝ The one who isn’t sick in the world that is sick gets treated as a mutant, isn’t it strange ? ❞

❝ The one who has his eyes open in the world that has its eyes closed — now they make him out to be blind, isn’t it strange ? ❞

❝ The one who wants peace, the one who wants a fight — each taking each end of the ideology, isn’t it strange ? ❞

❝ There’s no correct answer, isn’t it strange ? ❞

❝ You think you’ve got taste? Oh, baby, how do you know? ❞

❝ For god’s sake, everything's under control ! ❞

❝ However much money one has, everyone is a slave of this system. ❞

❝ At this point, even you wouldn’t know. ❞

❝ Oh baby, what’s your name? ❞

❝ But still, life goes on, somehow, just like this. ❞

❝ Everyone, in their own chicken coop, says they’re okay. ❞

❝ In the world where a dream has become an option… there’s no correct answer, that’s the answer. ❞

TRACK FIVE. — 점점 어른이 되나봐 ( 28 ), ft. NiiHWA

❝ And yet, would it have been better to not know the world? ❞

❝ Perhaps I’m gradually becoming an adult. ❞

❝ I can’t remember what were the things that I hoped for. ❞

❝ Now I’m scared. ❞

❝ Where did the fragments of my dream go ? ❞

❝ Though I’m breathing, it feels like my heart has broken down. ❞

❝ Yeah, to talk about now, it’s about becoming an adult who finds it only overwhelming to grasp onto a dream. ❞

❝ I thought I’d change when I turned twenty ; I thought I’d change when I graduated. ❞

❝ Sometimes, tears suddenly pour down with no reason. ❞

❝ Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter anymore. ❞

❝ Living, for just one day, without any concerns... for just one day, without any worries. ❞

TRACK SIX. — Burn it, ft. MAX

❝ I see the ashes falling out your window. ❞

❝ There’s someone in the mirror that you don’t know. ❞

❝ And everything was all wrong ; so burn it till it’s all gone. ❞

❝ Let’s go back to the past days, to the times that destroyed me. ❞

❝ After having a taste of success, how am I different from the me of back then ? ❞

❝ Let the old me burn. ❞

❝ I wonder what would remain in the end ? ❞

❝ The weakness, hatred, loathing, and even rage — Them, too, are rather futile. ❞

❝ Be careful of the word ‘beginner’s mindset’, don’t be afraid. ❞

❝ Whether it would become a blazing sun or the ashes left behind after being burnt — always, the choice and decision is yours to make. ❞

❝ I hope you don’t forget that giving up decisively also counts as courage. ❞

TRACK SEVEN. — 사람 (People)

❝ What kind of person am I ? ❞

❝ Am I a good person ? Or a bad person ? ❞

❝ I’m just a person, too. ❞

❝ Everyone would fade away and be forgotten. ❞

❝ People change — like I have. ❞

❝ There’s nothing that lasts forever. ❞

❝ Everything is just a happening passing through.❞

❝ Mm… why so serious ? ❞

❝ If you get hurt, what about it ? ❞

❝ Flow along the way the water flows ; maybe there’s something at the end. ❞

❝ A special life, an ordinary life, each of them on their own. ❞

❝ It’s all good, it’s all good. ❞

❝ Things don’t always go as intended ; Discomfort is something everyone has to withstand. ❞

❝ The repetition of dramatic situations sometimes makes life tiring. ❞

❝ People are like that. ❞

❝ When it’s not there, you wish it was ; when it’s there, you wish it wasn’t. ❞

❝ Who said that humans are the animals of wisdom ? To my eyes, it’s obvious that they are animals of regret. ❞

TRACK EIGHT. — 혼술 ( Honsool )

❝ It’s time that I fully face myself. ❞

❝ After finishing a shower, I detoxify myself with alcohol. ❞

❝ Perhaps it’s the alcohol that puts a period at the end of the day that is blurry in my memory. ❞

❝ I’ll just worry about tomorrow’s work tomorrow, fuck I don’t care. ❞

❝ I don’t really reach for snacks because I feel like I’d throw up if I did. ❞

❝ Since it’s getting to my head, let’s be honest about my life. ❞

❝ Oh yeah, money, fame, wealth, trophies and stadiums — sometimes I’d get scared of them. ❞

❝ I thought I’d party every day when I become a superstar, but the ideal is slapping the reality in the back of its head. ❞

❝ Well, it doesn’t matter anyway ; Tomorrow will come and go again. ❞

❝ I, who’s like this, and you, who’s like that… we just endure through the day, I guess. ❞

TRACK NINE. — Interlude : Set me free

❝ Set me free, knowing that it won’t go the way I want. ❞

❝ Set me free, knowing that it’s not what I want. ❞

❝ Set me free, I’m floating freely in the void. ❞

❝ Set me free, these days, I feel melancholy for no obvious reason. ❞

❝ One day, I crawl on the floor ; On another day, I fly high in the sky. ❞

TRACK TEN. — 어땠을까 ( Dear my friend ), ft. JW of NELL

❝ Still, as ever, I miss you, and I miss you. ❞

❝ Still, as ever, the memories of us together circle around me. ❞

❝ Maybe, if I had held you back then… no, if I had stopped you back then… ❞

❝ Would we have remained friends ? What would have it been like ? ❞

❝ Dear my friend, how are you doing ? ❞

❝ I, well, am doing well, as you probably know, yeah. ❞

❝ Dear my friend, I’ll be honest. I still fucking hate you. ❞

❝ I still remember the old days, when we were together. ❞

❝ “With the two of us, even the world is nothing to be afraid of” ; We used to say that, and now we walk on completely different paths, damn. ❞

❝ We, who had big dreams, were young, we were only twenty. ❞

❝ Would it be that you’ve changed, or was it me ? ❞

❝ I hate this flowing time, I guess it’s us who’ ve changed. ❞

❝ Hey, I hate you. Hey, I don't like you — Hey, even as I say these words, I miss you. ❞

❝ When I saw you for the first time in a while, you had become a completely different person. ❞

❝ There was no way to bring you back, and you became a monster.❞

❝ The you I used to know is gone, and the me you used to know is gone. ❞

❝ I know that it’s not just because of time that we’ve changed. ❞

#rp memes #rp starters #sentence starters #lyric starters #agust d #suga #bts #rp prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts #✦ ʃ — out of stars ; ◜ooc.◞ * ⋆#✦ ʃ — ◜memes.◞ * ⋆#✦ ʃ — ◜original.◞ * ⋆

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neutral-emerald · 3 years

Text

SILVER THE COSMIC TIME-JANITOR (or: dude, what's with all the alternate futures)

silver the hedgehog has a very simple backstory. he's a kindhearted, sorta-naive but altogether very driven psychic hedgehog here to save the world by time-traveling to the past (also known as present-day) to prevent the apocalyptic future he was born into from coming to pass!

[ID: A screenshot of Silver from Sonic 06. He’s glowing with cyan energy as he flies over a dark, post-apocalyptic city.]

...wait, if he's time traveling 200 years into the past to completely change the shape of the timeline, how do the stars manage to align such that he manages to be born at the exact same point in the new timeline with the exact same genetics? how are his parents born? does silver have parents?? and how does he do this no less than THREE SEPARATE TIMES??!

hey everyone, i'm tumblr user neutral-emerald here to make good on the idea i vaguely gestured at yesterday and point out silver's wildly inconsistent backstory(s) and then explain to you how this isn't just sega playing hopscotch with the concept of time travel, but actually TOTALLY EXPLAINABLE if you don't mind a whole lot of conjecture and "fuck dude i just think it'd be cool."

LET'S GO.

before i get started, a few things to establish.

first, this is about… half serious, tops. it’s less of a theory and more of an observation of something that’s weird and then throwing some possible explanations at it because i am a massive sucker for time-based nonsense. if you wanna take my observations and build your own conclusions, go for it. i’m not your boss.

second, i'm basing my conclusions off of both the games and the idw comics. the conclusions i draw are applicable to either continuity, but the logic does rest a decent amount on the comics, so just a heads-up in case you were expecting pure game canon from this.

and third, i'm working off like half a brain and very intermittent checks of the wiki and cutscene compilations, so there's probably many things i'm missing! if you notice something i said was wildly off-base, go ahead and correct me in the replies and i'll either edit the post or explain to you just how that detail doesn't actually matter, depending on whether it. y'know. matters.

with that out of the way, let's get into the first topic of discussion!

part 1: the future is inconsistent, y'all

now, i'm not sure if you've heard, but in the year 2006 sonic team released this little indie game creatively entitled Sonic the Hedgehog. it was a smash hit, won countless awards, and for some reason went down in history as a messy, incomplete bugfest. but that's not what matters. what matters is that it introduced Silver the Hedgehog.

silver hails from 200 years in the future. the world is a bleak, fiery place, and has been since the monster iblis was unleashed after princess elise's death. silver was born into this world, which we know since it's literally the first thing he says in his story.

[ID: A cropped line from Silver's story in Sonic 06. "This world was devastated before I was born."]

i'm not going to drag you through a beat-by-beat summary of the entire plot of sonic 06, you should know it already. silver meets mephiles, gets lied to about who caused the apocalypse, mephiles yeets him and blaze into the past, he tries to murder Sonic the Hedgehog™, and so on. eventually he helps kill god, and then sonic and elise travel further back in time to kill god even deader so that none of the game ever happened, and the bad future into which silver was born never happened, thus thoroughly scrubbing silver's existence from the timeline!

...until.

sonic rivals.

i'm not going to speak much on sonic rivals, mostly because i'm not super familiar with it. but what matters is that silver is back! he's still from the future, he's still here to change the past, and most importantly he wasn't deleted from existence by the destruction of solaris, unlike everything else from sonic 06 including everyone's memories of it. and obviously, whatever state his future is in, it's not the same as it was in sonic 06.

now, i don't have a single clue what is going on in rivals 2, so do inform me if there's some big information i'm missing from that one. all i know is he's fixing yet another possible apocalyptic future, like always. correct me if i’m wrong, i don’t have the patience to trawl through it myself.

then we've got sonic colors, in which silver is again from the future. notably, he’s definitely not from an apocalypse!

[ID: Some screenshots from the DS version of Sonic Colors, again cropped to just the text. Tails and Silver are talking to each other.

Tails: What's the future you came from like, Silver? Silver: A lot brighter than this. Silver: The sky is blue, and everybody's got a smile.]

sonic generations doesn't add much. again, correct me if i'm wrong, but i don't think we learn anything about what kind of future silver is from, and he's definitely not here to fix it this time. that's sonic's job! he's just hanging out like everyone else.

now, up until this point the future has been reasonably consistent, setting aside my somewhat abstract understanding of the rivals games. there's nothing to say that silver's not coming back in time from the same point in a single timeline, which is the one and only version of the future ever since the destruction of sonic 06.

UNTIL.

[ID: Two panels from the comic Sonic Forces: Stress Test. In the first panel, Silver looks worried as he lands in front of Knuckles, who looks skeptical.

Silver: We've got big trouble! Eggman— Knuckles: How can you be here? I thought you returned to the future?

In the second panel, Knuckles looks away with a self-assured grin, while Silver looks more panicked.

Knuckles: Oh wait— I must be dreaming! Silver: What? No! I've come back with a dire warning from the future!]

i have a lot of issues with sonic forces, especially with how its story is written. something i do NOT take issue with is the supplemental comics, mainly because they are WONDERFUL evidence for my crackpot time travel theory.

like i said, up until this point we don't really know whether silver has been experiencing separate instances of the future, or simply traveling back in time to prevent an also-time-traveling eggman nega from messing things up in the past. but here, we get some very juicy information:

[ID: Knuckles and Silver again. Knuckles has his arms crossed and is looking at Silver, who has a nervous look on his face as he slams a fist on the palm of his other hand.

Knuckles: Come again? Silver: Something happens that brings the world to ruin! But the historical records are sparse or make no sense. I came back to hopefully head off whatever's about to happen and save the future.]

silver travels back in time to prevent a terrible apocalypse. this is not the beautiful future silver came from in sonic colors— but this is the same silver. everyone recognizes him. he recognizes everyone. and yet, the future he came from is different.

part 2: silver is a walking paradox

allow me to remind you of what i pointed out when i was talking about sonic 06. silver was born into the iblis-apocalypse. considering no elaborate timeline nonsense happened to him before the events of the game (by his reckoning) i think we can safely assume he was born like a regular person with parents.

in the first post-06 timeline, silver was probably also born. let's be charitable, acknowledge that sonic team doesn't overthink the butterfly effect like i do, and say that silver was born to the same parents, because the universe likes to keep things nice and simple and contrive itself to make this particular character exist in this time period.

so, it's entirely fair that silver comes to exist in a post-06 timeline at the equivalent point in time, aka 200 years in the future. it's also fair that he travels back in time to prevent some kind of apocalypse, because that's his narrative role! it's what he does. when it's time for him to exist in the story, that's what he's there to do.

what isn't fair is the fact that it keeps happening.

[ID: A panel from the IDW comics. Sonic is stretching his legs while looking faintly exasperated at Silver, who is nervously holding his arm.

Silver: Er… No. I came back because defeating Eggman didn't save the future. Sonic: Couldn't even play along. Had to bring the mood down. Sonic: *sigh* Okay, what happened this time?]

[ID: The following panel, cropped to just Silver's text bubbles narrating over a starry sky.

Silver: When I left, my time had been conquered by the Eggman Empire. Everyone lived in fear, choking on polluted air. Silver: When I went back, the Eggman Empire was gone— but so was everyone else. Silver: There was nothing left. No people, no animals, no machinery. Only water and sparse, metallic plant life.]

allow me to summarize my understanding of all this: silver is from the future. normally, the future is good. sometimes it isn't. when it isn't good, he goes back in time and fixes things, then returns to the future to check if that fixed things.

the least conjecture-y interpretation i can come up with is that sometimes silver will go into the past, then go back to the future but end up in a Bad Timeline and thus go into the past again to fix things. there's no weird warping directly between bad timelines, he only gets there by way of the past.

but that's boring, so here's my PREFERRED interpretation.

silver hails from a good future, but sometimes it just changes. he's unstuck from time— if something weird happens in the past, he's the only one to know that the passage of fate was changed, because he went to bed in one timeline and woke up somewhere categorically worse, and the only way he can fix it is by figuring out just what caused this and going back in time to fix it.

or, to say it in a meme:

[ID: A picture of someone lying in a hospital bed with a nurse standing next to them, edited so that Silver is in the bed.

nurse: sir… you've been asleep for 2 hours silver: oh boy i can't wait to wake up in the same timeline i went to sleep in]

part 3: how did this happen?

it's one thing to point out that silver doesn't experience time like a normal hedgehog, and another thing to explain how and why this happens.

fyi, this is the part where i go wildly off the rails and start saying whatever i want. there's a ton of explanations one could come up with, most probably stemming back to sonic 06. i'm just going to go with my own, and probably not come up with a whole lot of concrete evidence because i'm just spitballing. this is me having a fun time. going "heeheehoohoo time traveling hedgehog go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"

so. something i haven't touched upon is that in all games after sonic 06, silver can time travel. we never see him do it, it's never explained how he does it. all we know is that he's doing it under his own power.

which is kinda odd, don't you think? should he be able to do that?

in sonic 06, we see three mechanisms for time travel. first is the chaos emeralds. if two people perform Chaos Control with a chaos emerald apiece, they open up a swirling rift in the air which can send them to different points in time and space. silver can't be doing that, for obvious reasons— he's only one hedgehog, and he's not exactly running around with a chaos emerald at all times. that can't be how he does it.

second is a time machine eggman built. that obviously can't be it; the machine doesn't exist at all after the timeline gets wiped, and again, silver is doing this on his own. he's actively antagonistic towards eggman, even. absolutely not this one.

third and finally is mephiles, who can make big purple orbs to take himself and passengers to different points in time. this obviously can't be it either, for similar reasons to number 2, right? after all, mephiles is one half of solaris, who was destroyed before he could be split off. he doesn't exist to be silver's time-traveling uber driver.

...right?

well, obviously. i'm not going to try and tell you that mephiles is secretly alive and shepherding silver back and forth between timelines for no reason. that's ridiculous. no, i'm going to try and tell you that silver is mephiles.

or rather, he's solaris. or RATHER, he's the new solaris, sorta-ascended to the role of Time God after the old one got blown out like a birthday candle.

like i said, i'm going wildly off the rails and as such don't have any concrete evidence to explain why it's this instead of something else, but hear me out. after elise blew out the flame of hope, the universe was left in an interesting situation. someone needs to be in charge of the flow of time, but the previous time-god was just unceremoniously destroyed. but all the power and energy of a time-god has to go somewhere, in some form, in some time.

with nothing else to go off of, the role of time-god starts flipping through every notable being it had interacted with. they're all solidly accounted for in the timeline, except for one. silver the hedgehog was born into a timeline that cannot exist. silver the hedgehog does not, and cannot exist. silver the hedgehog interacted quite a bit with both sides of solaris— he spent a substantial amount of time fighting back iblis, and associated with mephiles, even being one of the few people to directly experience his time travel abilities. silver the hedgehog tried and failed to absorb iblis into himself.

here's my theory: after sonic 06, the universe reasserted itself such that silver was the new Solaris. silver is not consciously aware that this is what he is, but he knows that he can time travel. sometimes the timeline will rearrange itself around silver. he is unaffected by this because he is a higher being unaffected by such petty trifles as "an origin" or "paradoxes".

silver the hedgehog probably doesn't have parents. he sprang into existence one day and everyone just kind of went with it, himself included.

oh also something i thought was neat but couldn't think of where to put:

[ID: More cropped dialogue, this time from Team Sonic Racing.

Silver: I'm fine. It's just, something bad is gonna happen. I can't explain it. I just feel it. Blaze: Have your travels through time given you precognition? Silver: I don't know. Maybe they have. Or maybe I'm just thinking too much.]

silver might be becoming psychic in a future-vision kinda way. that, or he’s riddled with anxiety. possibly both.

TL;DR

silver hails from no less than three separate timelines, his existence is a tangled web of who-knows-how-many grandfather paradoxes, and i choose to believe that he's god.

if anyone who cares more about evidence wants to gather up like, little one-off clues that support or conflict with my conclusions, go right ahead. or just throw your own arbitrary headcanons for what's going on with this at me. or incorporate these ideas into an au or something! i just want more people thinking about what the Fuck is up with silver post-06, because by god there is a WHOLE lot of potential packed in there

anyway thanks for reading make sure to like comment and subscribe—

#hey guys check out how hard i can gesture at a corkboard #is it remotely coherent? not a clue! i cannot process my own writing #sonic theory #silver the hedgehog #text #dot txt

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otagamerkorin · 3 years

Text

Trial by Fire (including very little actual fire and honestly just a whole lot of snow)

Merry (very belated) Christmas @blasphemousfungus! I was your secret santa for @kibasniper‘s Psychonauts Secret Santa! Unfortunately, due to a lotta stuff going on in my life, your present isn’t completely done yet, but here’s the first (honestly kinda massive) chapter of it! I plan on putting it up on AO3 as well, so I’ll ping you then too! For reference, this was highly inspired by mystery_notebook (or I think they might be @tvguts on here?) fic Like It Used To Be, But Better, which is amazing and you should totally check it out. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it!

Edit: Just realized I completely forgot to give it a title. Whoops.

When they had gone into the asylum, none of the members of Thorney Towers had expected to come back out not only dear friends with a 10 year old, but also under the close monitor of an organization of secret psychic agents. Initially is had only been to ensure that being around Loboto while in such delicate condition hadn’t left any lasting damage. Luckily from what they’d been able to work out from the fours scattered memories of the time, the dentist hadn’t involved them in any of his experiments, but better safe than sorry. The surveillance really hadn’t gotten in the way of their new lives much. A few calls a week, the occasional in-person check in to see how they were doing, not much to write home about in the grand scheme of things.

After a time though, things had begun to get...interesting.

It was actually Boyd who kicked the whole thing off, so to say. It had been a day like any other, possibly even more quiet and domestic than usual considering they’d just hit the weekend. According to the other three, he’d simply been drying dishes after dinner that night when a wayward mug has slipped off the counter behind him. The resulting crash has two effects. 1.) The former nightguard jumped about three feet off the ground with a startled shriek. And 2.) The dishtowel in his hands promptly burst into flames. Luckily he’d dropped the flaming cloth into surprise and a bit of group panic and rapid stomping has quickly put out the blaze, leaving the four gathered in the small kitchen, staring down at its burnt remains.

The lot of them, Boyd especially, were dumbfounded by the whole event and immediately phoned up their new psychic associates, if only to make sure they weren’t all going crazy again. There had to be some mundane explanation for this, right? But after a few quick tests from Sasha, it was official: Boyd was most definitely a psychic.

Signs from the others quickly followed. Fred would frequently find papers and pens floating in orbit around him whenever he got embroiled in his nursing reinstatement exams. Edgar would sometimes find those around him caught up in a sort of bewildering mental fog, leaving them staring around in confusion. And while Gloria had always had quite the green thumb, now the plants in her garden flourished with just the touch of her hand, the woman assaulted with a hundred whispered voices of delight whenever she appeared at the gate with her watering can. Lili was especially happy about the latter, having never met a fellow connoisseur of florakinesis until that point, let alone one who was so friendly.

To say everyone, both Psychonaut and otherwise, was baffled was an understatement. None of the four had shown an signs of psychic powers earlier in life. So why now?

It was Razputin of all people who offered a hypothesis. They were all aware that the large amount of Psitanium around the camp and asylum had been less that helpful for the fours delicate mental state, what with the whole “making the sane less sane” thing and all. Perhaps though, the other half of the phrase may also be in play. What if being around all that Psitanium has brought whatever deeply buried psychic powers the four shared to the surface?

Honestly, it was the best they had to go on. There were hardly any cases of spontaneous psychic manifestation in those beyond adolescence and the four weren’t showing any of the usual symptom relating to those sort of circumstances.

Regardless, it didn’t change the fact that the organization now had a whole mess of new psychics in the mix who needed training.

Which is what brought Milla to the front gates of the Von Gouten Arts Academy for Girls (formally Hagatha Home) bright and early one Wednesday morning. The former actress had bought the dilapidated old academy around a year ago using some of the wealth she’s amassed during her glory years. (It was amazing how much interest a saving account left to sit could accrue.) Since then she’d been fixing the place up, hiring teachers and generally getting the place running even better than before, eventually joined in her endeavors by the other three Thorney Towers residents when they moved onto the grounds with her.

Milla found herself smiling up at the stylized “VG” woven into the metal of the newly installed gate in the stone fence that surrounded the property. Gloria really was doing an excellent job with the place. Rolling her window down, the Mental Minx leaned out and pressed the button of the call box installed in the fence wall. For a moment there was silence and then a familiar voice crackled to life on the other end.

“Good morning! Do you have an appointment?”

“Well, I would certainly hope so Darling.” Milla teased and she could practically hear the smile in Boyd’s voice when he replied.

“Dang, is it really Wednesday already? Well, head right on up Mrs. Vodello! I’ll let the rest of the gang know you’re coming.”

There was a buzz and the whirring of mechanisms as the gate opened and allowed access to the road beyond. Continuing on down the path, she soon found herself pulling into the large round driveway in front of the building. A group of students tending to one of the flower beds out front waved as she parked and stepped out of the car, Boyd likewise stepping out of the guard shack nearby and making his way over.

“Good morning to you Ms. Vodello! You the only one here today?”

“Not quite.” She replied with a chuckle, just in time for the back door of the car to fly open and Raz to stick his grinning face out around it.

“Hi Boyd!”

“Hey, good to see you too Raz! Come on inside, the rest of the gang should be on their way.” He replied with a grin, reaching down to ruffle the boy’s hair as he led them inside.

For as horrid as the place had apparently originally been ran, the former owner had at least had good architectural sense, and the large oak front doors opened into a soaring foyer, complete with a grand spiral staircase. One that Gloria was already beginning to make her way down as the doors closed behind them.

“Well good morning Ms. Vodello! And to you too Raz dear!” The former actress beamed, taking Boyd’s offered arm as she stepped down the last few stairs.

“You came at just the right time. I just finished up with morning announcements. Please, feel free to head right over to the practice room, the rest of the boys should already be on their way. Oh, and I’ve also had some snacks from the dining hall sent on ahead. I hope you both like blueberry muffins!”

“That sounds just delightful darling!” Milla replied cheerfully, smiling wider when she saw the stars in Raz’s eyes at the mention of food. Milla sidled up beside the actress as they started down into one of the academy’s wings, one of Gloria’s arms still linked with Boyd’s.

“So how have the plants been treating you darling?”

“Oh, better everyday! My garden is thriving and I think I’m really starting to get a good hold of this whole telepathy thing! Getting it across to all my little lovelies that there’s really no need to shout every time I come in hasn’t been easy, but I think it’s finally starting to stick. The roses and lilies are still a horrible bunch of gossips, but I doubt there’s much I’ll ever be able to do about that.” She replied with a laugh.

“They do come in useful to make sure none of the students are pulling anything they shouldn’t though!”

“That’s wonderful to hear! How about you Boyd? Have you been making any process in your off-time?” Milla asked, the guard rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, a bit. It ain’t exactly been fast progress, but one step at a time you know? But hey! At least I haven’t accidentally lit up anything important again since you taught me those exercises. There’s only so many times I can almost burn down Edgar’s classroom before it starts to get ridiculous.”

Milla smiled softly, reaching over to pat the guard on the back.

“Well, learning to fully control one’s powers can be a long path. It took me years to master my own skillset. Like you said, it’s just one step at a time. I think you’ve made wonderful progress though, and I’m very proud of you darling.” She mused and the man flushed a bit at her praise and mumbled a word of thanks, tugging his hat low over his eyes bashfully as Gloria gave him a smile.

The group of four quickly found themselves at the extra dance studio in the buildings far west they’d assigned at their practice room, and upon stepping inside found Fred and Edgar already waiting for them.

“Oh, hey Ms. Milla. And you too Raz. Sorry, gimme just a sec to finish up some papers.” The tall school counselor called over distractedly, scribbling away on a clipboard from where he was sitting on a nearby bench.

“Apologies for my rather ruffled appearance as well, mi amigos.” Edgar chimed in, wiping his hands down with a long-since-stained painting cloth. Both his hands and the old shirt he wore were splattered with the stuff, having somehow even managed to get some on his face and hair.

“You caught me in the middle of a bit of early morning painting.”

“Just be sure to remember and get some rest dear. We can’t have our best art teacher burning the candle at both ends.” Gloria replied with a smile as she strode over, reaching up to stroke away a smudge of paint on his cheek. The artist gave a soft smile as he leaned into the touch.

“Oh course mi amour.”

“Good. And that goes for your too Fred. Don’t think I haven’t noticed a certain someone sneaking out of bed early the last few mornings.” She called over, and the counselor jumped a bit at being called out, flushing bashfully as he looked at her over the edge of the clipboard.

“Right, you’re right. So, what’s the plan for today Ms. Milla? Seeing as how Mr. Dark and Serious isn’t here, I assume we’re working on our levitation?” Fred asked, setting aside the clipboard as he pushed himself to his feet, the Brazilian woman giving a laugh at his joke.

“Oh come now, Sasha isn’t that bad. But you are correct! Today we’re going to be working more on your levitation!” She replied, settling back as though sitting upon an invisible chair and crossing her legs as she floated up a few feet above the ground.

“Now, last time you all managed to manifest a “Levitation Ball” as we like to call it. This time we’ll be taking the next step and practicing our ability to balance atop them. Razputin darling, if you would demonstrate?” The Mental Minx requested and the young psychic nodded, raising a hand above his head. A large ball of swirling orange energy formed in his palm and he tossed it down, easily jumping up and balancing atop it.

“Now then, we aren’t all trained acrobats like Razputin here, so it might take a while to find your balance and get the hang of it. Consider it like balancing on a medicine ball. Remember, thinking lighter, rounder, happier thoughts can help in manifesting the ball more easily. Go ahead and give it a try! And please let me know if you need any help at all.”

Early on in these lessons the group had felt a bit silly to be using psychic instruction methods typically meant for children, but they’d gotten over it quickly enough. After all, most psychics got their powers much younger than the lot of them were, so starting at a lower level of instruction was only appropriate. It helped that the simple exercises really worked wonders too.

Though that didn’t mean it was gonna be easy. Forming the ball was one thing. Staying on was another.

A fact the group quickly discovered.

Fred gave a squeak as his light blue orb suddenly slid forward, taking the foot he’d just managed to plant atop it along with it, threatening to pull the man into a split as he hopped forward to follow it. In his defense, Edgar and Boyd didn’t seem to be doing much better. The latter had managed to get atop his off-white bubble, but was now swaying about wildly as he tried to keep balanced, arms windmilling in an attempt to steady himself. The former was having much the same troubles, quickly getting dumped back onto the floor each time he attempted to clamber up.

Gloria was the only one of the bunch who seemed to be making much progress. The woman had moved over to one of the practice room’s ballet bars and was gripping it for stability as she gingerly set one foot on her own ball. With a small grunt she hefted herself up, the orb wiggling worryingly beneath her for a moment before stilling.

“There you go! You’re doing wonderful darling!” Milla cheered her on, clapping encouragingly as the other woman smiled.

“Why thank you Milla dear. After some of the ridiculous shoes I’ve had to wear in my years on the stage, this isn’t so bad.” Gloria replied, putting her arms out to balance as her stance wavered a bit.

“Oof! Well, I’m glad one of us seems to be getting it, mi amor. This is far less easy than Señorita Vodello makes it look.” Edgar replied with a grunt, the wind getting knocked out of him as he fell to the ground once more. Milla let out a thoughtful hum, tapping her lips as she watched the struggling group. Suddenly her eyes flashed with inspiration and she snapped her fingers with a grin.

“Well, I think I may know a way to help.”

The whole group, including Raz, whom had rolled over to try and help Boyd stay upright, turned to look at her in interest.

“I’d like you all to form two, smaller levitation balls instead of one.” She directed, miming the shape of two basketball sized orbs.

“Uh, ok. But how is that gonna help?” Fred asked, already focusing on trying to reform his ball into two even as he tiled his head in confusion.

“Well, as you know, those like me, who’ve had a lot of practice, don’t require a physical representation of their levitation in order to float. Most of those who do tend to only create a singular orb to assist them, so they can don’t have to split their focus. I’ve found that others though, who have a nice grip on the psychic side of things, but are having a harder time managing the physical part, tend to prefer use two. Think of them a bit like ice or roller skates.”

“Oh, I think I see what you mean amiga!” Edgar replied in excitement, focusing till his deep red ball split into two smaller ones. Carefully, he stepped atop on, managing to balance one-footed long enough to successfully stabilize himself using the other. Cautiously, he rolled forward a few feet, face splitting into a smile as he managed to keep his balance.

“Well, well, this actually is easier.”

The others quickly followed his example, and the slight adjustment seemed to do wonders. Soon Gloria was twirling lazy loops around the room like a proper skater, Edgar trailing a bit more slowly, but no less enthusiastically, after her. Fred seemed to be doing a tad bit better than before, but was still gripping tight to a much more steady Boyd’s shoulders as the two slowly drifted in circles, Fred’s long legs doing their damnedest to keep him upright.

“Never been great at skating either, but this is a bit better I guess.” The counselor murmured, glancing up to find his partner giving him an encouraging smile.

“Hey, it just takes a little practice! I’m sure you’ll levitating like a pro in no time!” Raz encouraged, giving a whoop of delight as Gloria grabbed him and twirled him around as he glided past.

“Impressive, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut the class short for today.”

The whole group gave a jump at the sudden voice, Fred giving a yelp as the levitation bubbles below him popped and dropped him on his ass, and they all turned to see Sasha standing in the now open doorway.

“Sasha, darling! What are you doing here? Didn’t you have other business today?” Milla asked in confusion, drifting over to help Fred up, and the German sighed seriously.

“Yes, but I just got a call from the headquarters. It seems...that Agent Pandor has disappeared.”

Milla gave a gasp, pressing both hands to her mouth, and Raz cocked his head in confusion.

“Uhhh, who’s Agent Pandor?”

“Ms. Tanya Pandor. One of the Psychonauts junior agents and a specialist in subterfuge and information gathering. I’m afraid you haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet.”

“But isn’t Tanya on vacation right now?” Milla asked and Sasha nodded.

“Yes, she had gone skiing at a lodge up in Colorado. The HQ asked her to check in regularly for security reasons. According to what I was briefed with, reports dropped off a few days ago. After a few failed attempts to get ahold of her, eventually the HQ resorted to calling the lodge itself to check in on her, thinking maybe she’d fallen sick. When they checked her room however, the whole thing was empty. It’s as though she just vanished.”

“Oh my! That sounds troubling indeed!” Gloria gasped, mirroring Milla as she held a hand to her mouth dramatically, and the German nodded.

“It certainly is. While Ms. Pandor wasn’t one of our top agents, her skills are none the less important to the Psychonauts and her disappearing is far from ideal. Finding out what happened to her has been assigned as our team’s top priority.”

“Well, is there anything we could do to help?” Fred piped up and the two senior agents looked over at him in confusion.

“What do you mean darling?” Milla asked and the counselor fidgeted nervously with the hem of his shirt as he replied.

“Well, I mean we’re technically part of the Psychonauts to now, even if we’re just in training, right? So that means this agent is one of our buddies too. And it’s only right to try and help out our friends whenever we can right?”

“I agree!” Edgar exclaimed, clapping a hand down on his companion’s shoulder as he turned to face the assembled agents.

“If there’s anything we can do to help and find this missing girl, we’re more than happy to do so!”

Boyd and Gloria nodded along in agreement as Sasha’s gaze scanned over them, the German man’s head tilting in thought.

“Well, I suppose more eyes on the ground would certainly help. And since Mrs. Pandor wasn’t on a mission or anything, this could be a fairly safe environment for you all to get some field experience...”

“Well, I think it sounds like a great idea!” Raz chipped in, folding his arms and nodding wisely, earning an eye roll and a sigh from the older agent.

“...Very well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

“Excellent! Don’t you all worry, I’ll get all the arrangements handled! Just be ready to go in a few hours and remember to pack warmly!” Milla replied, clapping her hands together cheerfully, as Raz gave out a quiet cheer.

The three agents departed quickly after that, leaving the group to make arrangements. It took a bit of scrambling to get everything organized with the rest of the schools staff, but soon enough they found themselves packing.

“I sure hope that poor gal is ok. Hopefully we can find her quick.” Boyd mused, leaning hard onto his suitcase in order to try and get it to lock around the mound of sweaters and other winterwear inside.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s just fine Boyd dear. Those Psychonauts are a tough bunch after all. No doubt she’ll appreciate your concern when we do find her though.” Gloria reassured him, folding up a thick woolen dress to tuck into one of her own bags.

“I must admit, I’m a bit excited. I’ve never been to a ski lodge before.” Edgar pipped up, an excited smile on his face as Fred let out an amused laugh.

“Can’t say I have either. Well, cept for this one time back in college. And with all the drinks that weekend, I can barely remember it. I’m sure it’s not gotta be anything tooooo over the top. Those places always talk themselves up.”

“Holy hell, they were not talking this place up.” Fred muttered, his and the rest of the motley crews jaws dropping open in shock as they leaned out the windows of the truck to stare at the vista unfolding before them.

The place was really less of a lodge and more of a small village, what with the amount of connected buildings that made it up. The whole residence was constructed of pale wood, stone and brass, all woven together into a beautiful work of architectural engineering at the base of the snowy mountain. As they pulled into the parking lot at the place’s edge, they passed beneath a large ornate arch reading “Goldsmuth Lodge and Resort”.

“Yeah, Tanya does not mess around when it comes to her vacations. No really surprised, that girl barely gets any time off.” Oleander agreed, nodding in appreciating at the sight as the car slowed. When Milla and Sasha had announced their new plan to the other higher-up, the man had been assigned to the case as an additional supervisor, as well as another pair of eyes. Raz had tried to convince Lili to come along as well, but apparently there was few things the girl hated more than cold weather, not too much of a surprise coming from a florapath, so his requests had fallen on deaf ears.

Once their oversized vehicle had stopped, their collective group spilled out to stretch, several backs popping after the lengthy ride. They couldn’t very well retain their cover if they came flying in on a Psychonauts jet after all, so they’d been forced to stash it at one of the organizations safe houses and drive the rest of the way instead.

“Well then, let’s unpack and get checked in. The sooner we can find Ms. Pandor, the better.” Sasha announced, adjusting his glasses as he scanned the large plaza for the proper entrance.

There was suddenly a yelp and the sound of tumbling luggage from the rear of the vehicle. Glancing around the back of the truck, they found a mound of bags and suitcases that had no doubt tumbled free when the hatch had opened. A moment later a bag fell away as a familiar blue head popped up out of the pile and swiveled to look at them, the figure immediately giving them a sheepish smile, a hand also emerging from the pile to give them an awkward wave.

“I still can’t believe you convinced HQ to let us bring Loboto along.” Raz mused in amusement, Oleander shaking his head as he walked over to help extract the rehabilitated (in progress) criminal from his luggage prison.

“Well, Cagliosto is certainly in desperate need of some outside socialization. A relaxing place like this could be perfectly helpful with his recovery, darling!” Milla replied with a chuckle as she watched Morry lever the skinnier man up and almost fall over himself in the process. The former mad scientist quickly grabbed the agent by the front of his coat in a panic to keep him upright, the two flushing as the motion inadvertently tugged them chest to chest. Sasha gave as an amused eyeroll as the German could feasibly manage, while Milla and Raz gave a quiet giggle at his side. The two former villains had been dancing around each other for months now, much to the amusement, and occasionally frustration, of everyone watching.

“Well, like Sasha said, the sooner we get inside, the sooner we can really start enjoying ourselves. Here, let me help you there dear.” Gloria smiled, the rest of the group trailing after her as she stepped up to help retrieve the fallen luggage, Loboto giving her a thankful, if sheepish smile in return. While the four had long since forgiven Caligosto for all the asylum business (after all, he had been cursed at the time with, as he himself put it, the “insanity of a manatee”), things were still pretty awkward between them. Gloria though, every friendly, had doing her best to help bridge the gap in the meantime.

It took a bit to gather up all the luggage, and even longer to find the right entrance, but eventually they managed. The walk there had been interesting at least. Everywhere they looked, there was some new, interesting winter activity the place seemed to offer, from ice skating to toboggan rental. Their own rather modge-podge group was also getting a number of curious onlookers, which was far from ideal, but there wasn’t much they could do about it really.

The lodge’s lobby was wonderfully warm compared to the wintery chill outside, and they could already feel the scattered flakes of snow melting on their coats as they strode up to the main desk.

“Hello there! Can I help you ladies and gentlemen?” The brunette behind the desk asked with a smile, Sasha plucking his glasses off to wipe away the fog they’d accrued from the heat inside as he spoke.

“Reservations for Nein, Vodello and Gouten.”

“Alright then, just a moment!”

The young woman’s finger flew along the keyboard in a blur for several moment’s before she paused, biting her lip in concern.

“Oh, well there seems to be a small problem. You ladies and gentlemen called for a reservation rather last minute and it seems your rooms aren’t quite ready yet. My deepest apologies. You are all more than welcome to wait in the lodges lounge till they’re ready, free of charge.” She replied, giving an apologetic bow of her head as she gestured towards a pair of open doors nearby.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all darling!” Milla replied, waving a hand nonchalantly.

“Apologies for the rather sudden reservations. Our little trip was a bit of a recent development.”

“Thank you for your understanding Ms. I’ll come and inform you once your rooms are ready.”

The lounge was somehow even more impressive than the grand lobby they’d just stepped out of. He place was lit in a dim but cozy manner, a long bar stretching along one wall. The rest of the space was filled with a number of comfortable tables, armchairs and couches that encircled a handful of square open-sided pillar fireplaces that dotted the room here and there. With an excited “ooo!”, Raz rushed off to look around with Loboto trailing after him, the bunch chuckling at his antics as Sasha glanced around.

“How about you all stay here for a bit? We need to ask around the staff and see if we can find anything regarding Ms. Pandor’s disappearance.” He proposed after a moment.

“Are you sure? Is there any way we can help?” Boyd asked, fidgeting nervously.

“No, it would be best if you aren’t seen with us too much while we’re actively investigating. To help avoid casting suspicion on you lot as well and all.”

“Keep your eyes and ears open while we’re gone soldiers! Always vigilant!” Oleander commanded, giving them a little salute as the trio went off. Shaking her head in amusement at their antics, Gloria gestured toward the bar.

“Care for some drinks while we wait boys?”

Despite the lodge’s rather bustling crowd, there were only a few people at the bar and they were easily able to find seats.

“Hello there folks, what can I get you?” The bartender, a man looking somewhere in his 30’s, asked.

“Hot Chocolate!”

Gloria’s yelp of surprise at the sudden shout quickly devolved into giggles as Raz and the former villain popped up beside her, clambering up onto the next stools.

“And a cider for me sir.”

As the bartender went to work assembling the groups drink orders, he glanced over at them with a smile.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you folks around before. Welcome. What’s the occasion for the visit?”

The group glanced at each other, all trying their best to hide their slight panic. They hadn’t exactly been properly prepped for people asking them about their motives yet after all.

“Oh, uh, we, uh, came to visit with a friend we heard was staying here.” Boyd stuttered nervously. Picking up on what he was trying, Gloria slipped straight into her old actress skills and gave a sigh.

“Yes, a Ms. Tanya Pandor. She’s one of our old students. Unfortunately, it seems that we may have just missed her.”

The bartender paused, tapping his chin in thought.

“Ms. Pandor you say? Actually, I do remember her. Very exuberant. And you heard right, she seems to have left already. Was the talk of the staff rumor mill for a day or two actually. Some of her coworkers called asking to speak with her on some matter, but when the staff went up to let her know about the call, she was nowhere to bee seen. Must have left damn late at night for nobody to notice her. Which is odd really...”

“Odd, how?” Loboto asked, the group jumping a moment at his voice, seemingly having forgotten he was there, before leaning towards the bartender in interest, the man glancing around before lowering his voice.

“Well, we’re really not supposed to divulge things about the other guests, so you didn’t hear this from me, but I may have been one of the last people to see her. You see, I was assigned as a ski slope guard that day, you know, to watch and make sure nobody got injured and needed medical attention. I was stationed on one of our more challenging hills, the Black Diamond one, when I saw Ms. Pandor go whipping by. I know it has her because she had a very distinctive ski jacket she always seemed to be wearing. This whole black, purple and gold affair. Plus she has been very kind and gracious to the staff. We tend to remember those sorts of things. Anyways, she gave me a wave as she went past and seemed to be having the time of her life. It seems so strange that she would leave so abruptly without saying anything. I do hope something didn’t upset her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, dear.” Gloria replied with a smile, waving a hand nonchalantly.

“Tanya has always been the spirited type, zipping from place to place. Just a little lightning bolt.”

“Yes, she certainly did seem like that type. I’m sure you’re right. Ah, that’s right, your drinks!”

The group was quickly presented with their fine beverages, including a healthy topping of whipped cream and sprinkles for Raz and Loboto’s chocolatey treats. Edgar and Gloria’s cider was just as delicious, rich and warm. (Fred and Boyd’s spiked eggnog was perhaps not the most professional thing to be drinking during a spy investigation, but nobody was about to call them out on it.) For a time they sat at the bar, chatting away to the bartender about the various activities around the lodge, before Raz suddenly caught the shape of their other companions watching them from a nearby doorway. Nudging Gloria, he nodded over towards them, and the woman took the hint, turning to the bartender with a smile.

“Well, I’m afraid we must be going now dear. We can’t spend all vacation here in the lounge after all. Thank you for the lovely time.”

“My pleasure Ms. I hope to see you all again soon.” He replied with a nod and smile as they stepped away from the bar, his eyes widening in surprise and delight when he noticed the generous tip the group had left tucked under one of the empty mugs.

Following their missing members lead, the group ducked over into a more private corner of the lounge to meet them.

“Did you guys find anything?” Raz asked quietly, Sasha giving a frustrated sigh in return.

“No, unfortunately not. None of the night staff noticed her leaving that day. Which leaves us back at square one.”

“Well, luckily for you, we just might have a clue.” Fred replied with a smile, the trio looking over at him in surprise.

“Wait, really?!” Oleander exclaimed and the counselor gave him an unamused look.

“Geez buddy, give us some credit. We’re not completely useless. But yeah, apparently somebody saw Tanya out on one of the ski slopes earlier that day. Whatcha wanna bet there might be some sort of clue somewhere out there?” He replied, Oleander reaching up to stroke his mustache in thought as he considered the other man’s words.

“I’d say you’d probably be right on the money. Maybe Pandor saw something out there that made her haul ass out of here, though I’ve never known her for the scaredy cat type. And that would still leave the question of where she went. But it’s a lead.”

“How’s about this?” Sasha pipped up, waving a hand to get all their attention.

“The three of us have worked out with the management to take a look in Ms. Pandor’s room, see if she maybe left some sort of clue behind. While we’re doing that, you six could head out onto the slopes and take a look around. A group of casual vacation goers, including a child, would likely draw a lot less attention than the three of us for the time being.”

“Well, I think it sounds like a marvelous plan!” Loboto replied exuberantly, pausing and rubbing his neck sheepishly when they all turned to look at him.

“If that’s alright with you all of course.”

He was met with a chorus of headshakes and “no, that’d be fine”s, so he grinned once more and nodded in satisfaction.

“Sounds like a plan then!”

“Just please all be careful.” Milla replied, eyes full of concern, and Raz gave her a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be ok! Besides, whenever are we not careful?”

The 50-yard stare of no doubt Whispering Rock related war flashbacks that she gave him in return spoke volumes.

“Thank god for government provided tailoring. Trying to find snow wear for proportions like mine is hellish.” Fred sighed quietly in satisfaction, adjusting his perfectly fitting ski jacket to a chorus of chuckles. The 6 of them were currently waiting in line at the equipment rental shop. Once they’d gotten their luggage up to the rooms and finally unpacked, they’d found the new sets of winter gear amongst their belongings, perfectly tailored and clearly a gift from the Psychonauts organization. How said organization knew their measurements was a mystery they neither had, nor wanted, the answer to.

“I must admit, they are rather fetching, aren’t they?” Gloria replied with a smile, giving a little twirl to let the hem of her longer coat poof out for a moment like the skirt of a dress.

Eventually the line cleared out enough for them to enter the small store displaying the various types of equipment available for rental and purchase. Splitting up to look, they all quickly selected their preferred styles. It didn’t take long for most of them to reconvene near the counter, each carrying a fairly simple pair of skis. There was no need for the super high-grade stuff, none of them were professionals after all. When Raz came running back with a snowboard, none of them were really that surprised. Skis had seemed a bit boring for the boy’s exuberant personality to begin with. What did draw their shock however was when Fred came trotting up behind the young psychic, a long light blue board slung over his shoulder.

“Uh, mi amor, are you sure that’s what you meant to get?” Edgar asked, eyeing the board in equal parts confusion and concern, and Fred laughed in return.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about it. Never said I had been using skis when I went someplace like this back in college. Always been useless with them. Snowboards were a different story though. Used to skateboard a lot back in high school too. Now let’s go see if I’ve still got any of that old muscle memory still rattling around.”

As a group that was inexperienced, and in some of their cases completely unfamiliar, with the equipment, getting into their rented pieces ended up a tad more challenging than intended. Boyd nearly poked himself in the eye with one of his poles and Raz promptly fell backwards into a snowdrift after figuring out how hook his boots into the board, but eventually they managed to get their nonsense together enough to try and get in line for the ski-lift that would take them up to the Black Slope.

Try being the key word.

Just as they were in the process of settling themselves at the back of the line, a slightly nervous voice called out behind them.

“Hmm, now I don’t claim to be an expert on skiing, but something tells me this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

Turning to look back, they found Loboto had not only somehow managed to put both of his skis on backwards, but was now also slowly sliding away from them down the slight decline, ski poles digging into the snow in an attempt to stop himself. Boyd, being the closest to him, darted out to try and grab the man, but missed his hand by a hair, and he began to pick up speed.

“Whoa! Look out there!”

Someone suddenly darted behind the former mad scientist, catching him by the shoulders and stopping his uncontrolled journey. As the person carefully pushed the man back up towards the group, they got a better look at them. It was a young man in his early 20’s, with pale skin and messy sandy blonde hair.

“There ya go!” He announced, settling the dentist back in front of the rest of the group and crouching. down to look at his skis.

“Ah, here’s your problem! Here, this should help.”

With deft fingers, he unhooked Loboto from the skis, flipped them around and had him step back in, hooking him securely into place.

“Uh, thank you. I’m a bit of a beginner.” The blue skinned villain thanked him, cheeks flushing the tiniest bit of dark blue in embarrassment, the younger man glancing over at the sign announcing the coming hill at his words.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly recommend this hill to someone still getting their snow legs, but I can’t fault you for wanting to jump into the challenge head first!” He replied with a merry laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be very careful. Thank you for your help, Mr...?” Gloria replied, the young man jumping to attention when he realized her pause was requesting and answer and reaching out a hand to shake.

“Oh, just call me Josh! A pleasure to meet you folks!”

He quickly exchanged handshakes with them all, Raz included, as the line to the chair lift drew shorter.

“You certainly seem to know your stuff.” Edgar complemented him, glancing over as Loboto turned his ankle this way and that to look at the ski mechanism in fascination.

“I would certainly hope so, considering all the years I’ve worked here! I know all the ins and outs like the back of my hand!”

“Well isn’t that wonderful. This seems like a splendid place to work.” Gloria replied with a smile.

“Oh it is, I couldn’t be luckier. Oh, looks like it’s you guys turn!”

Turning to look, they found the couple behind them settling into their chair on the lift, the next one incoming. As they stepped up to wait on it, Josh stepped away, giving them a wave as he turned to leave.

“Hopefully I see you guys around! If you’ve got any questions, just let me know. If want to know anything about the lodge or hills, I’m your guy!”

“We definitely will!” Fred called after him, the group raising their arms to wave back, before prepping to climb aboard the lift.

The benches ended up only being able to fit 3 people, so they ended up separated into two groups, Fred, Boyd and Edgar in the first chair, with Raz, Gloria and Caligosto grabbing the second. For the former, the ride up was honestly pretty pleasant and peaceful, the view from up so high showing them a beautiful vista.

“Wow, we really are up high huh?” Boyd, wondered out loud, glancing down over the side of the chair at the forest spread out below them.

“Si, we certainly are. Hmm, I wonder, is this the sort of view you normally have mi amor?” Edgar asked, looking at the lanky man between them with a cheeky smirk. Fred gave the painter an unamused look as on his other side Boyd let out a snorted laugh, breaking into giggles.

“Seriously? Your pulling out the tall guy jokes?”

With a grin and chuckle, the Hispanic man leaned up to give the taller man a peck on the cheek as their other partner leaned against his shoulder in a giggling fit.

“Apologies mi amor, I couldn’t resist.”

In the other chair however, things were going...less pleasantly.

Raz gazed down at the trees below as they rode along, humming some song the piano player in the lobby had been playing. Feeling something bump his leg, he glanced over, seeing Loboto’s legs jittering back and forth enough to jostle against him. Now that he thought about it, the whole man was shaking. Glancing up at the dentist’s face, he found the older man’s gaze fixed straight down at the ground. His hands were fisted in and tugging nervously at the strings of his ski hat (they’d all agreed the shower cap might be a bit too conspicuous), causing the large pop pom on top to bounce rhythmically. And judging by his harsh breathing, the guy was probably about 2 steps away from hyperventilating.

“Um, Loboto?” The young boy asked, seeming to snap the dentist out of his daze, at least partially, both he and Gloria looking over at him.

“Are you ok?”

“Now that I notice, you do seem a bit...tense, dear. Are you feeling alright?” Gloria added gently

“Oh, just fine! Happy as a clam! No reason at all to feel nervous!” He replied exuberantly, the smile on his face horribly forced, eyes darting to the drop below them every few seconds.

Raz stared at him, mind puzzling over the info. The slightly loony man was usually fairly fearless, sometimes to the point of his own peril. So what could have gotten him so stirred up?

Glancing down at the ground far below them, something suddenly clicked in the boy’s head. A memory rose to the front of his mind, one of a night at an asylum what seemed so long ago, and a certain dentist’s supposed demise at the hands of a turtle powered tank. Raz felt the pit of his stomach drop, guilt sweeping over him at the realization.

“Uh, hey, is there any way this about the time you...you know?” Raz asked gently, hand gestures miming the image of a person falling off something, and flinched when the man’s head snapped around to look at him, smile wide.

“What?! No, no, of course not!...Maybe...probably...” He replied, his vibrato visibly deflating as he tried his best not to look down.

“Oh, Loboto dear, it’s alright. There’s nothing to worry about.” Gloria fretted, catching onto the issue and reaching out to pat the blue man’s back.

“Yeah, these ski lifts are like, totally safe!” Raz exclaimed, in an attempt to help.

As though mocking them, the lift jerked for a moment, sending them swinging a bit. Loboto sucked in a sharp breath at the motion, hand instinctively tightening where it had been wrapped lightly around Raz’s forearm in a grip that would definitely be leaving bruises the next day. Gloria grimaced when she saw Raz wince, raising a hand to tap her chin in thought.

“Oh dear, well this isn’t good.”

After a moment an idea hit her, and she leaned over to catch the mad dentist’s gaze smiling gently.

“Loboto dear, have I ever told you about the first time I ever took to the stage?”

The man paused in his panicking, seeming to calm slightly as he gave her a confused look, Raz looking at her in equal confusion but seeming to roll with it.

“Um, not that I’m aware of?”

“Well, let me tell you. I’ve preformed on hundreds of stages of the years, all over the world. The theater was my lifeblood. But the first time I performed in front of people, oh, I was terrified.”

“R-Really?” The man replied, eyes widening.

“Oh, absolutely. It was the worst case of stage fright I ever felt. I was absolutely petrified. My palms were sweaty, my head was spinning. I completely froze up on stage. And that wasn’t the only time. No no, I’ve had stage fright hundreds of times in my career. I almost refused to go on stage for my own awards ceremony, I was so nervous. But let me tell you something very important I’ve learned.”

She leaned in close, taking the man’s hands gently in her own, both he and Raz leaning in in fascination.

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid. Everyone fears something. I’m scared of messing up on stage, overwhelmingly so. Young Raz here has his own fears, as do you. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Being brave doesn’t mean the absence of fear. Anyone who says so is an idiot. No, to be brave is to look fear in the face and still continue on in spite of it.”

Leaning back, she looked out at the forest surrounding them.

“This really is a lovely view, isn’t it?”

“Yes...Yes I suppose it is.” The dentist replied quietly, gazing out at the landscape around them seemingly with new eyes. He still seemed nervous certainly, gaze fixed firmly on the horizon in an attempt not to look down, but his shaking had stopped and his breathing had steadied. From behind his back, Raz gave the actress two big thumbs up and a grin.

As they neared the peak of the hill, they could the others laughing about something in the chair ahead of them, quickly hurrying off of it to make room as they reached the landing. As soon as it was their turn, Loboto practically threw himself off the ski lift, clearly trying to reach Terra Firma as quickly as possible. Gloria and Raz followed at a more normal rate behind him, pausing for a moment when the boy looked up at her.

“Not gonna lie, that was kinda awesome.”

“Why thank you my dear.” She replied sweetly, before giving him a little grin and leaning in closer as she lowered her voice.

“I’ve had a lot of practice at that speech. You’d be amazed how many new actors and actresses get opening night jitters. Still works like a charm.”

Leaving the boy to sputter in surprise for a moment, she skied on to where the others were waiting at the hills peak.

“So, what’s the plan?” Fred asked, adjusting his feet in the snowboard as Raz caught back up with them.

“Keep together and keep our eyes out for anything suspicious I guess?” The boy replied with a shrug, earning a nod from the rest of the group.

“Sounds like a plan bud.”

After some quick adjustment of clothing, equipment and whatever else, they set off.

It became quickly apparent that none of them were even close to professional skiers, though some were faring better than others. Fred’s muscle memory did seem to be kicking in, handling his snowboard with surprisingly few complications, while Gloria’s seemingly natural graceful-ness was doing her skis well. Raz took a spill every now and them, but likewise, his acrobat training seemed to be translating pretty well to snow-sports.

The others weren’t faring quite as well. Edgar seemed to be developing a habit of falling over onto his back pretty often, his large upper body pulling him over whenever he began to lose his balance, while Boyd seemed to be having the opposite problem, having taken more than a few headers face first into the snow already. Loboto was surprisingly staying up pretty well, perhaps his long legs were to blame for his better balance, but every few second he would begin to weave wildly back and forth on the slope before correcting himself, only for the cycle to repeat again shortly thereafter. The whole lot of them were certainly getting a lot of curious looks from the more advanced skiers that would occasionally pass them, the occasional trail guard they passed seeming even more concerned.

With all the chaos, it’s a wonder any of them ever saw anything.

“Whoa, wait everybody!” Raz suddenly cried about halfway down the trail, skidding to a sudden stop. He was nearly bowled over by the others in their attempts to stop, Edgar managing to fall onto his back once more and slid a few feet past him with an exasperated sigh.

“Dios mio, this is becoming tiring. What’s the matter mi amigo?”

“Look at those trees over there.” He replied, pointing to part of the forest that lined either side of the path. Glancing to where he pointed, they spotted what he seemed to be gesturing to. A swath of low branches in a certain area were snapped and bent, as though something had run into them or pulled them out of the way.

“Yeah, that definitely looks like it could be something.” Boyd replied with the critical eye of a security guard, the whole group moving off the path and towards the woodland to examine them. Upon closer inspection, there was most definitely something amiss. While the branches closer to the path broke inwards towards the forest, others further in seemed to break outwards.

“Hey, what’s that?” Raz asked, squinting further into the woodland. Unhooking himself from the snowboard, he darted further into the trees, moving to the edge of the breakage, and crouching down, seemingly digging around near one large trees roots. After a moment he seemed to free whatever he was holding and started back in the others direction.

“Look at this guys.”

He held it up for them to see, the group leaning in for a closer look. It seemed to be a long scrap of torn fabric, patterned in thick, alternating purple and black stripes, with a flash of gold along one edge.

“What do you guys think it is?” Boyd asked in bewilderment, squinting at the piece. Beside him, Edgar gave a sudden small gasp.

“Wait, didn’t that bartender say that Señorita Pandor wore a jacket in these colors?”

The group gapped at him for a moment before turning back to the scrap with renewed interest.

“Holy hell guys, I think we just found an actual clue.” Fred sputtered in amazement, Raz’s eyes lighting up.

“Hey maybe there’s more stuff to find back there! Come on, let’s go look!” the boy crowed, moving to run back into the trees.

He didn’t get very far though, as the wind suddenly kicked up, nearly knocking him over as it ripped through the trees with a swirl of snow.

“Geeze, I though trees were good for avoiding wind. Come on!”

He tried to take a few more steps forwards, only to get knocked back by another gust, being forced to take a few steps back to the group this time. Quickly the wind began to build, howling around the lot of them and kicking up the snow into near white out conditions.

“Damn, they’ve got some crazy weather in these parts!” Boyd called over the noise, Fred replying as he threw up his arms as much as he could to block his face.

“Not the sort I’ve ever seen before!”

“Wait.”

They all quieted, turning to look over Loboto, who was currently looking around in confusion.

“Now, I may have been called crazy one or twice in the past, but does anyone else hear something odd?”

The group stilled, listening hard over the wind. All at the same time, they seemed to catch it, Fred glancing around the group in sudden nervousness.

“Does that sound like growling to anyone else?”

Indeed, the sound mixed in amongst the howling of the wind was much deeper and guttural, rumbling through the air.

Crack

They all froze at the loud sound of splintering wood, all slowly turning in unison to look deeper into the woods. A shape appeared through the blur of snow, the growling growing louder and the shape becoming clearer as it drew towards them. Eventually it stopped at the edge of the broken branches and their hearts all collectively stopped as they made out what it was.

A massive beast, easily 8 or 9 feet tall, bipedal, and clothed in long white hair, only it’s slightly darker face and palms peeking out through the thick fur. For a long, drawn-out moment, there was nothing but the howling of the wind. The only thing to interrupt it was a tiny, likely instinctual whisper from Raz.

“Holy shit.”

The beast didn’t seem to like that very much and its growl deepened. With one massive hand, it reached up and tore a branch from the tree beside it with the sound of screeching wood, before reaching back and hurling it at the group. With a collective cry of surprise and panic they all managed to throw themselves out of the way of it, the large chunk of wood landing amongst the other broken branches nearby. Its failure seemed to enrage the beast even more and it reached down, clawing and tearing a truly gargantuan chunk of snow up out of the ground. It lifted it up and above its head, clearly reeling back to launch it at them, and Raz let out another, this time very foreign sounding, curse.

“Oh, that looks like a real bad time! Boyd! I’m gonna need some help!”

With that, the boy darted out in front of the rest of the group, the security guard seeming to pick up on his plan and following along behind him. Just as the beast hurled the massive snowball, Raz threw his hands up to conjure a psychic shield, Boyd’s own hands joining just beside his to release a spray of flame outside the barrier just as it contacted.

The snow clump exploded around them. Most of it dissolved into steam under the sudden onslaught of the fire, what remained splattering against the curved wall of psychic force in a spray of water and slush, flying off on either side of the group.

“Where is it?! Can anybody see what it’s doing?!” Raz called out, trying to squint through the cloud of steam now surrounding them.

“I don’t know, I can’t see!” Boyd replied, waving his hands to put out the small flames sparking on his gloves.

As the steam was cleared by the slowly calming wind, Raz blinked in surprise at the scene before him, shield disappearing as he lowered his hands.

The beast had vanished, seemingly into thin air.

For a moment they all simply sat there, most of the group having fallen to the ground in the scramble to get out of harm’s way, the air thick with unspoken disbelief. Till finally, Fred said what they’d all been thinking.

“Was that a goddamn yeti???”

“In my professional dentist opinion...yes.” Loboto replied, staring equally slack jawed at the spot.

“What?? Where did it go?? A beast that big does not simply disappear into thin air??” Edgar sputtered, clambering back to his feet as though a higher viewpoint would somehow reveal the 9 foot tall creatures hiding place.

“I...I don’t...-“

“Oi! What are you lot doing back there!?”

The whole group let out a collection of shrieks and yelps at the sudden shout, whipping around to look behind them.

An older man armed with a hefty walking stick stood at the edge of the ski trail, staring into the woods at them with a grumpy scowl on his face.

“Wha- who are you?!” Raz asked, at a loss for words, and the old man’s expression seemed to sour even further.

“Ambrose. I’m the grounds keeper here. And I should be asking you the same thing!”

“Did...Did you see...?” Boyd asked, dazed by his seeming unconcern for the fucking yeti that had been in front of them 20 seconds before. The old man leaned to glance at the place he was gesturing to, brow creasing.

“See? I don’t see anything. All I see is a bunch of troublemakers putzing about in the woods. Get out of there! You’re supposed to stay on the trail!”

Like a bunch of scolded children, they all quickly gathered themselves and scurried back out onto the path in front of the man, who pointed an angry finger at them.

“Now don’t let me go catchin you messing about in there again, understood?”

They all obediently nodded and, seemingly satisfied, he turned away with a nod, grumbling the likes of “people these days” as he slowly hiked further up the path.

“...Ok, so we’re all in agreement that we gotta tell the rest of the gang about that right?” Fred asked, seemingly still dumbfounded, and was answered by a chorus of nods.

The rest of the trip down the hill was largely uneventful. Somehow, an encounter with a mythical creature has seemingly improved their snow-sports skills, and they managed not to have any more major spills on the rest of the way down the mountain. The sun was setting by the time they reached the bottom and, after getting their equipment situated, the six ventured back through the main lodge in search of their three companions.

They did eventually find them back in the lounge, tucked away in a corner table with their drinks.

“Ah, hello everyone!” Milla greeted them with a smile and wave as they made their way over.

“Did you have a good day out on the slopes?”

“Uh, yeah, it was, uh, pretty, pretty good.” Fred replied, sharing a look with others.

“How’s about you guys?”

Sasha gestured for them to sit, voice lowered as he spoke.

“Well, we looked over Ms. Pandor’s room and it was just as empty as we’d been told. Not a trace of her. The only things we found was the Psychonauts bug she put in the rooms phone when she got here. Which means that she likely didn’t leave willingly, if she didn’t have the chance to remove it. That or she simply forgot it when she left.”

“Yeah, and that sort of absentminded-ness doesn’t sound like her. Girl might leave her workspace a mess, but I’ve been on missions with her before, and she’s a neat freak when it comes to hotels and stuff. All the tidying she does, she probably leaves them cleaner than it was when she got there. Gotta ask her if she’s got some sort of service industry trauma from college or something...” Oleander added, trailing off into rambling at the end.

“So did you six find anything out on the slopes?”

The group glanced at each other and eventually it was Gloria who haltingly began, realizing just how insane what she was about to say was going to sound.

“Well, there may have been a bit of an incident out on the trails...”

“We got attacked by a yeti!” Raz suddenly blurted, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. Sasha turned to look at him with a truly flummoxed expression, seemingly completely thrown for a loop at the boys’ words.

“...R...Run that by me again??”

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story.” Boyd replied with a sigh.

It took quite a while to explain the events that had befallen them all, added to by the fact that dinner arrived in the middle of it, but eventually they got the whole incident out in the open, the three senior agents staring at them in bewilderment by the end.

“Are you sure it wasn’t some sort of polar bear or something? Those things can get big as hell when they’re on their hind legs.” Oleander offered and Gloria shook her head.

“Now I know how this all sounds, Agent Oleander, but we know what we saw, and that was most definitely not a bear.”

“Plus, we found this!” Raz added, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the fabric scrap, handing it over to the trio.

“The bartender we talked to said he saw her wearing a coat like that!”

“Well, I’ll admit, this definitely looks like Tanny’s sorta style.” Oleander admitted with a shrug, handing it over to Sasha to look at.

“Regardless of what this beast you saw might be, there is most definitely more going on here than a simple wayward agent.” The german acquiesced.

“Well, how’s about we all get a good night sleep and continue the investigation tomorrow. You all must be exhausted.” Milla offered kindly and Edgar gave a groan as he stretched, back popping loudly.

“After the beating we took out there, you don’t know the half of it Ms. Milla.”

Luckily for them, their rooms at the lodge were, just like the rest of the property, amazing. They’d been separated across 4 adjacent, and connected, rooms, with the senior agents sharing one and the former asylum members another, leaving Loboto and Raz to bunk solitarily. Their mother organization had, knowing and being blessedly supportive all sorts of relationships, even been kind enough to book the four a California King, while Sasha, Milla and Oleander were more than happy to settle for a King.

“Ugh, we literally just started doing spy stuff and I already feel like an old man waiting for retirement.” Fred groaned, stretching and feeling some muscle in his back twinge.

“Hehe, implying you aren’t already an old man.” Edgar teased him with a chuckle from where he was kneeling in massage position over the lanky man’s hips, his own aching back already having been kindly tended to by Gloria before her bath.

“Hey, keep up that talk and I’ll have to revoke smooching privileges.” The counselor shot back, pointing a finger over his shoulder threateningly at the larger man, even as he melted blissfully beneath he ministrations of the artist’s talented hands. Edgar finally managed to work out the last knot at the base of the man’s spine and Fred gave a little groan of relief, going boneless on the mattress beneath him.

“You boys better not be having too much fun in there without me!” Gloria called from the bathroom and Edgar laughed, smoothing his hands lovingly up and down the thinner man’s back a few times before climbing off him.

“Alright, all done. Time to move mi amor.”

Fred gave a little grumble that sounded a lot like “Sleepy. Don’t wanna.” and the painter rolled his eyes fondly, grabbing him and, like an owner with a lazy puppy, simply dragged him out of the way, patting the spot that opened up.

“Your turn.” He called over to Boyd, who’d been looking out onto the rooms snow covered balcony that overlooked the lodge’s main square, and the guard abandoned his post with a grin.

“Oh thank goodness.” He replied, shucking his shirt off and flopping onto the bed with a sigh, sending the nearby Fred bouncing slightly. He gave another grateful sigh as he folded his arms beneath his head and Edgar set to work.

“Damn, today was a crazy day. The more I think about it the less it makes sense.” He mused, earning a snorted laugh from a slightly more awake Fred as the man reached out to run a sleepy hand through the guard’s hair.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Well, I must admit, I find it all a little bit exciting.”

The three men glanced back to find Gloria emerging from the large bathroom, dressed in a fluffy towel and currently braiding her long damp hair.

“Yes, there’s a been a bit of danger I suppose, but what adventure doesn’t have some danger?”

“Sure as hell beats grading papers at least.” Fred agreed, earning a collective laugh.

“Would you like one when I’m done, mi bella?” Edgar asked, gesturing to the massage in progress, and Gloria shook her head, stooping down to give him a kiss on the cheek regardless.

“No, but it’s sweet of you to ask.”

Soon enough they all found themselves properly prepared for bed, lights flipped off, and beneath the plush covers of the bed, tangling together in the warm heap they’d so quickly become accustomed to.

“Goodnight you guys. Love you.” Fred murmured sleepily, answered by a small chorus of similar sentiments.

Before long, the four found themselves drifting off, eager to see what new, and potentially yeti-related, adventures awaited them in the morning.

#psychonauts #psychonautssecretsanta2020 #you guys wanna split a cab #lobotoly #calimorry #sasha/milla/oleander #god knows what their actual ship name is #razputin aquato #sasha nein #milla vodello #morceau oleander #caligosto loboto #gloria von gouton #edgar teglee #boyd cooper #fred bonaparte #Plus a whole mess of OC's #secret santa #My writing

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fanfictionaries · 4 years

Text

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 5 - It Was You

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Just when Hermione thought nothing worse could plague her than her constant nightmare, she has a very different kind of dream. How is she ever going to look Ronald in the face again? All she wanted was to do well in her classes, get S.P.E.W. off the ground, and finally get a good nights sleep.

Fred continues to find himself more than amazed at the infinite facets of Hermione Granger.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: A second update this week because I like you guys so much! :)

I will now be updating this story every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 4

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Moments fall like crimson nights Some stick to my skin tonight Take a breath and shake them off Eyes ahead, don't you wait too long

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“If I have to write one more word about the goblin rebellions, I think I might off myself.” Ron threw down his quill, ink splotching across this parchment, and let his head fall into his hands.

“Be careful. If you do, I guarantee Professor Trelawney will say she predicted it all along because Venus was in retrograde and you’re a Pisces,” Harry responded flatly, resulting in a smile from Ron.

Hermione would never admit it, but she secretly agreed with Ron. While not quite as distressed as her ginger friend, she did find the weekly essays assigned by Professor Binns tedious and incredibly lacking in challenge. Perhaps she found the whole thing tiresome because she already knew everything there was to know about the goblin rebellions, but it also didn’t help that the ghostly professor was about as exciting as an old shoe.

“Hermione…” Ron drew out her name like he had just come to an idea. Hermione, very familiar with this tone, knew exactly what his idea was.

“No,” she responded sternly, scribbling away at her own parchment about the various defense tactics utilized by the goblins.

“Pleeeaaase?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase?”

She sighed. “I will edit and revise Ronald Weasley, and nothing more.”

“You’re the best, honestly.” Ron grinned and picked up his quill again, dipping it in his ink and scribbling away with renewed energy. His stupid grin made Hermione smile and roll her eyes before returning to her own essay. While she wished that Ron and Harry could just do their own work themselves, she did realize that not everyone had the discipline that she had. However, that didn’t mean she had to stop trying to get them to work harder. She knew for a fact that their potential far exceeded their marks.

They worked in silence for a while, the scratching of quill on parchment and shuffle of students walking past filling Hermione’s ears as her brain turned over, pulling out fact after fact.

In a blazing sense of pride, she finished her last sentence, tying her conclusion together perfectly, and placed her quill down on the table. At the click, both Ron and Harry looked over to her with wide eyes of disbelief.

“You’re finished already?” gaped Harry.

“I’ve barely gotten three paragraphs written. How can you possibly be finished already?!” exclaimed Ron. Hermione shushed him, glancing over at Madame Pince’s disapproving glare.

“Some of us, Ronald, utilize our time efficiently,” Hermione responded coolly as she placed her things back into her bag. She didn’t bother mentioning that she spent her last three hours in the library as opposed to their meager thirty minutes, or that she took her break after morning Transfiguration to study as well. Her eyes itched from staring at off-white pages and black script and for once she finished all her work and read ahead in all her classes. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was attending five less classes than the previous year.

There was also the small fact that she no longer slept. Nearly a month into school and she still barely slept four hours a night. When panic inducing nightmares weren’t causing her to toss and turn, she was studying. And when she wasn’t studying, she was working on her new endeavor – the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, otherwise known as S.P.E.W. Ever since the Quidditch World Cup and the horrid treatment of Winky, the house elf, she knew she had to do something. This became even more clear when she found out Hogwarts was run almost entirely on house elf labor. In all her years never did she imagine that her beloved school used essentially slavery to cook and clean. It was wrong. It was barbaric. One would assume that in a world filled with magic, where one was only limited to the bounds of one’s imagination, they would be a bit more progressive. Unfortunately, though, it seemed to be the opposite. In fact, Hermione had never met a group of people so routed in their ways as the wizarding world. Of course, it would be foolish to assume that an entire world would be impermeable to prejudices when the muggle world was not.

Therefore, where all of her time was normally spent in the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Ron or watching the Gryffindor quidditch team practice on the pitch, she now spent it nose deep in a book or attempting to recruit new S.P.E.W. members. Her absence had not gone unnoticed – in fact, it became so blatantly clear that Harry confronted her outright between Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures.

“I don’t understand Hermione, is it something I’ve done?” Harry ran a hand through his unruly locks, distress obvious on his face.

“No, it’s nothing you’ve done Harry,” Hermione picked at her nails, feeling uncomfortable.

“Was it, Ron? I’m sure whatever he said, he didn’t mean it.” Hermione ignored the grating irritation at Harry’s blind defense of Ronald.

“No, it’s not Ron.”

“Then what? Come on Hermione, you know you can tell me anything.”

Hermione looked at her best friend and sighed. His kind eyes shone from behind his round spectacles with sincerity and concern.

“I’m not avoiding you or Ron. I’m just stressed about our O.W.L.s next year—" she paused “—You can never be too prepared, and I need to do well on them.”

Harry looked at her with a confused expression, “Hermione, they’re not for another year! Are you seriously stressing over something so far away?”

“Yes? No? I guess…I guess I’m just used to studying all the time. You know, what with the time-turner last year and all. And then of course there’s S.P.E.W. No one seems to care at all that these poor elves are being worked day and night without any pay. I mean, it’s horrendous!” Hermione half-lied, feeling stupid as the words left her mouth. She wanted to be honest with Harry, but she didn’t know how. The real reason felt stupid. What was she to say? Sorry I’ve thrust myself into my work more than ever Harry; I just can’t stop having nightmares about something that happened nearly two months ago and I’m trying to distract myself.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, “I get it.”

“You do?” His remark caught her off guard as she wasn’t even sure if she understood it.

“You’re an absolute swot. Don’t get me wrong, we all love that about you, but you need to learn when to relax and have some fun,” Harry finished with a grin.

“You prat—” Hermione hit his arm with the back of her book “—Don’t call me a swot. But you’re right. I need balance.”

“And I guess as appointed Secretary of S.P.E.W., I could do a bit more for the cause.”

Hermione lit up at the words. “Really? Oh Harry, thank you so much! I’m making more buttons tonight, maybe you could help me? Then tomorrow we can try and canvas some of the other houses for new members!”

“Well, if you’re so efficient, you should be able to help me finish mine!” argued Ron desperately, bringing Hermione back to the present.

“Ronald, I told you before. I’m not doing your assignment for you. You have to learn it on your own,” she whispered.

“When am I ever going to need to know about all the goblin leaders? Besides, you like doing this sort of stuff.”

“Ronald, I said n—”

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

Merlin, Hermione thought at the sound of unified voices. Rolling her eyes, she turned to see Fred and George standing behind her.

“Hey Fred, hey George,” Harry greeted them cheerfully, placing his quill down – happy for an excuse to stop working.

“Hullo Harry,” they responded in unison.

“Any progress on entering our names for the tournament?” Ron asked expectantly. Much to Hermione’s disproval, Fred and George promised him a try at whatever they whipped up as soon as they knew it was successful, and Ron had not stopped talking about it.

“We’re nearly there,” George grinned.

“So, we’ll know in about two days whether it works or not,” said Fred, leaning against a bookshelf casually. Two days? Hermione thought with alarm. Was it really the 29th of October already? That meant the students from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, the other competing schools, were to arrive tomorrow evening! She needed to go back to her dormitory and rework her schedule. She had no room to pencil in excitement and new student arrival that week. She opened her planner to begin revising.

“How confident are you that it’ll work?” asked Ron, leaning forward in excitement.

“Extremely,” the twins answered.

Hermione let out an indecent snort and rolled her eyes again. Fools.

“Something you’d like to add Granger?” asked George, looking over at her.

“Yes, hullo to you also. So nice of you to acknowledge us in a friendly manner,” accused Fred sarcastically.

“I think some lessons are best learned through experience, rather than lecture,” said Hermione, carefully picking her words before tucking her planner into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

“But you love to lecture us, are you sure you aren’t raring to tell us how wrong we are?” asked Fred, fluttering his eyelashes sweetly.

Hermione gave a short laugh, “Please. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“A lost cause? You hear that Georgie? We’re a lost cause.”

“I don’t know…sounds to me like she’s just afraid of a challenge Freddie.”

“It’s not a challenge if all I’m doing is slowly melting my brain trying to reason with the pair of you,” scoffed Hermione.

“Oh, I can melt your brain just fine, if that’s what you’d like,” stated Fred, stepping forward cockily.

“Is your wit really so primitive that you have to resort to sexual innuendo all the time?” Hermione asked, her heart rate picking up in her chest as their conversation turned more heated.

“Sexual innuendo? I have no idea what you’re referring to Granger. I was merely saying I might be smarter than you think. Are you sure you aren’t projecting a bit there?”

“You’re a child,” Hermione bit back, feathers ruffled that Fred seemed to be over his initial shock response to her comebacks and instead was meeting her beat for beat. His eyes held a shine to them as he smiled down at her in excitement.

“Resorting to name-calling now? I thought higher of you,” sighed Fred, tapping the end of her nose condescendingly. Hermione batted his hand away, feeling her hair begin to crackle. She was getting too upset. She needed to calm down and show him that she was better than him.

Taking a small, calming breath, she straightened her posture before replying, “That doesn’t surprise me Frederick. I’m sure it’s easy to think highly of me when your potential is so low.”

Hermione took that moment to make her exit. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the library, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. A warm flush covered her face and bled down her neck as she scurried through the halls. Adrenaline pumped through her system. Despite his ample fight, she felt quite confident that she won the battle. His lack of biting response as she left, supported as much. Departing before he could speak might have been a cheap way to go about it, but she reasoned there was no clean way to fight when it came to the Weasley twins. A small giggle bubbled up in her chest as she replayed the conversation in her head. Invigorated by the whole event, she ran the rest of the way to the Gryffindor tower. Rounding corners and sprinting up staircases, exhaustion filled her small frame by the time she came upon the portrait of the Fat Lady. Her lungs ached from the exercise and her shoulder and back ached from the heavy books weighing her bag down. She gasped the password through pants and entered as she tried to catch her breath. Fellow Gryffindors cast odd looks in her direction as she scurried up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories, but she didn’t care. Her room was empty and for that she was grateful. The last thing she wanted was a forced conversation with Lavender or Pavarti. Perhaps the physical exertion would act as a sleeping agent and she would finally fall into a deep and peaceful sleep. Best to ride the wave and go to bed while I’m still tired¸ she thought. Sluggishly, she changed out of her uniform and crawled into bed. Nagging thoughts tugged at the back of her mind, telling her to brush her teeth, but the exhaustion in her body told her to sleep. Ultimately her body won, and sleep took over.

Hermione’s mind swam the next day as she sat in double potions with the Slytherins. It was nearing the end of class and Professor Snape was taking the time to explain to them why their potions had been improperly brewed in one way or another. Hermione’s hadn’t of course, but that didn’t stop him from berating her for being an ‘insufferable little know-it-all’, and then accusing her of helping any student that didn’t manage to burn a hole in their cauldrons. She diligently took notes as Snape droned on and on, but her mind failed to connect to the words she was writing down on the parchment. All thoughts and worries were currently focused on an embarrassing personal crisis. The dream.

While Hermione thought nightmares were the worst thing, she could possibly endure in her sleeping state, she had to admit she had been wrong. No, apparently there was something much, much worse stewing in her brain waiting for vulnerable unconsciousness to leap out and take form.

She had been in the library, wandering through the sections of towering shelves when she appeared in a section, she was unfamiliar with. Turning a corner her eyes grew wide at the sight of two older students locked in an intimate embrace. Her heart started to race, and her breathing began to pick up as she felt a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She tried to leave but found herself unable to move – her feet glued to the floor. That’s when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and a pair of lips kissing up her neck. Her hands went up, one grabbing at the fingers that dug roughly into her flesh and the other threading itself through long thick hair. She turned her head only to see that the hair between her fingers was a brilliant shade of ginger. The realization was so shocking to her that she awoke from her dream, sitting ramrod straight – heart pounding, sweat-slicked, and breathing heavily.

Her face blushed just thinking about it. Turning her head casually to the right, she spied one of her best friends. Ronald Weasley sat next to Harry, slumped forward in his seat, head resting in his hand. His long hair hung way past his eyes, concealing them completely. Hermione, knowing Ron, would bet on her life that they were closed, and he was verging on sleep. She knew he wasn’t fully asleep though, because if he were there would be loud snores coming from his direction. Him. He was the one her mind decided to fantasize about. Why? She studied him, her eyes tracing the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t bad looking; she always quite liked his hair and pale complexion. He had a kind heart and could be quite charming when he wanted to be, the problem was that rarely did he want to be. He could be quite cruel and insensitive without knowing it, and he didn’t care for much other than Quidditch. Is that really what she wanted in a partner? Hermione scoffed at her mental ramblings. Here she was, wondering if Ronald Weasley were her potential first love without considering that he would probably never be interested in her. After all, her hair was a bushy, frizzy mess, her teeth were far too big for her mouth, and her otherwise plain features left much to be desired. Not to mention her overall swotty personality. Still, hadn’t he told her that she was ‘the best’? And he certainly didn’t mind being her friend. What if he did like her?

“Miss Granger, is there something on Mr. Weasley’s face that’s so interesting that you cannot be bothered to pay attention?” The sound of Professor Snape’s voice brought Hermione out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find all eyes on her. The Slytherins snickered around her, and Ron and Harry looked at her in surprise. Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment.

“No Professor, my apologies,” she mumbled, looking down at her notes.

“Five points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger’s lack of interest. Class dismissed,” snipped Professor Snape as he turned towards his office. Hermione packed her bag and exited the classroom as quickly as possible.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked, him and Ron catching up to her with ease.

“Sorry guys, I got lost in thought and didn’t realize where I was looking. I guess I should have been paying attention,” Hermione stammered, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“No problem Hermione. Snape’s a git and no one blames you. I was almost asleep near the end there too,” Ron piped in with a friendly smile. Hermione felt her stomach flip.

“Thanks Ronald.” She smiled back.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a couple of love birds, boys,” Draco Malfoy sneered as he came up beside them. “When’s the wedding? I’m sure it’ll be just lovely, or at least as lovely as five knuts’ll get you.”

Hermione scowled at the silver-hair bully, with all his sharp pointed features and disgustingly greasy demeanor, as he laughed along with his goons. She rolled her eyes and grabbed both Harry and Ron by the arm, leading them on towards the front of the castle. Ridiculous. That’s what she was being. It was ridiculous to waste her time worrying about some absurd dream when that’s all it was – a dream. Besides, she didn’t know for certain it was Ron who she dreamed about. There were plenty of red heads in the world.

Outside the main entrance they found Ginny next to Neville in a crowd of students.

“Did we miss anything?” asked Ron, looking excitedly about.

“Nothing yet, you’ve made it just in time I think!” Ginny exclaimed in glee. The castle was in a fit of excitement. Even the Slytherins, who didn’t find much joy in anything school related, seemed to be chomping at the bit for their guests to arrive and the Triwizard Tournament to finally take off. Hermione, too, was excited but more at the thought of getting to meet students from other magical schools. She had taken the liberty of reading as much as she could on the histories of both Durmstrang and Beauxbaton and was informing Ginny on their key similarities and differences when several gasps and shouts erupted around them.

“Look!” Ginny yelled, pointing up at the sky above them. Hermione followed her finger upwards to see a large horse-drawn carriage flying through the clouds, pulled by a dozen flying horses the size of elephants. She watched as they soared through the air, their wings pumping up and down in synchronization. The size of the horses was comparable to what they were pulling, for as it got closer, Hermione estimated the carriage to be at least twice the size of her home back in Hampstead. The carriage floated prettily, a pale cream embellished with pastel blue designs and gold trim. Obviously of French provincial style, she concluded that this was clearly the Beauxbaton students. So enthralled by the ornate and bordering ostentatious carriage and the horses pulling it, Hermione failed to notice heads turning and mouths gaping at the Black Lake. In fact, her gaze only broke away from the magnificent beasts when Ron elbowed her from behind. She turned to scold him, but caught her tongue when she noticed a daunting, black ship floating on the lake. It rocked back and forth, sending large waves crashing away from it on the usually glass-smooth surface. Hermione thought it very much resembled what happened when you dropped a large rock into a pond and wondered how it got there. Someone was sure to tell her later – there were plenty of witnesses.

“Way to make an entrance!” exclaimed Ron, followed by loud whoops and cheers as he clapped.

“A bit flashy, if you ask me,” Pansy Parkinson sniffed from a nearby group of Slytherins.

“She’s one to talk,” Hermione mumbled under her breath.

“Hah!” a boisterous laugh sounded behind her. Hermione swiveled and caught a pair of hazel eyes looking at her.

Fred leaned towards her. “Nice one Granger,” he complimented over the babble of conversation around them. His warm breath fell on her neck, all too reminiscent of her dream. Her body jerked to attention, heat creeping up her face before she smiled politely and turned away from the older boy.

“They’re coming up to the entrance!” Seamus Finnigan announced. Hermione thanked Merlin for the distraction and looked down the path leading to the front of the castle. Sure enough, there was a large group of individuals walking towards them. As they neared, the Hogwarts students cheered and applauded them, trying to welcome the foreign students like Professor Dumbledore advised. Hermione clapped softly as the first students approached. A tall and unsettling man led the group. His dark hair, speckled with bits of silver, sat heavy on his head, slicked back from his angular face. The sharp features and the long, grey goatee gave him an ominous appearance fueled even further by the deep scowl set into his mouth and piercing black eyes. He wore midnight black robes paired with a brilliantly white fur pelt over his shoulders. Igor Karkaroff. Headmaster of Durmstrang. The students behind him wore robes of deep crimson, the color sharing an eerie resemblance to the color of blood. Like their headmaster, they too donned thick furs to fight the crisp cold, only theirs held a rich color of brown. They looked incredibly warm. Subconsciously, Hermione pulled her wool robes closer around her as a strong breeze blew around them.

“Bloody hell! It’s him!” Ron shouted, his voice taking on a hysterical tone.

“Who?” asked Harry.

“Victor Krum! It’s Victor Krum! Right there in the front!” Ron pushed himself forward and past Hermione to get a better look at the famous Quidditch player coming towards them. With Ron’s tall figure in front of her, she failed to confirm whether the Bulgarian seeker truly lead the group of Durmstrang students. Ron’s excitement only increased as the visiting students got closer and then passed them into the castle.

“Ronald! I can’t see!” Hermione pounded lightly on Ron’s back with her fists until he snapped out of his star struck trance. The ginger boy turned around, a sheepish grin across his face.

“Sorry about that Hermione. Here.” Awkwardly, Ron shifted over and led Hermione to the front by her waist. For the second time that afternoon a Weasley boy reminded her of her dream, Ron’s touch all too like the arms that held her sensually the night before. She took a small step forward, putting distance between herself and Ron’s grasp. The students from Beauxbaton were the next to make their way down the path. The crowd gawked at the elegant French students as they walked poised and beautiful down the cobblestone in their blue silk uniforms. Hermione, on the other hand couldn’t help but find them annoying. They shivered and chattered their teeth in such an exaggerated manner and looked up at the castle with such disgust and judgement that she immediately took a disliking to them.

“For Merlin’s sake! It’s not that cold,” Hermione groaned as the boys and girls huddled together for warmth. Hermione thought them incredibly rude and found it idiotic that they did not think to wear warmer robes. However, someone in their party evidently had sense, as their headmistress sauntered up the path in a heavy shawl, completely unbothered by the cold. Although, Hermione wasn’t sure anything could bother the woman as she stood twelve feet tall and sturdy. A neutral expression, bored some might even call it, covered her face and despite her size, she too glided gracefully across the ground. As they walked past, Hermione could hear little bits and pieces of snide remarks from the Beauxbaton students. Apparently, they thought Hogwarts would be much nicer than it was. Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. She assumed that as guests, they would have much better manners.

“Honestly, can you believe that rubbish?” Hermione exclaimed, turning to Ron and Harry behind her. Instead of meeting commiserating sentiments like she expected, the pair continued to stare at the Beauxbaton students until they disappeared completely into the castle. Their mouths hung open widely, making them look quite dumb, and Hermione turned to Ginny with a questioning look. Ginny shrugged, also confused over her brother and Harry’s behavior.

Hermione waved her hand in front of the pairs’ faces.

“Hullo! Are you two listening to me?” she asked, frowning.

“Bloody hell, did you see her?” Ron asked, in more of a trance than when he saw Krum.

“Yeah…” Harry said dreamily.

“See who?” Hermione questioned. What was wrong with them? They hadn’t acted like this since…oh goodness. Not since the Veelas at the Quidditch World Cup.

“Ahhhh it seems our poor baby brother has fallen victim,” George stated woefully, placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She looked up at him and then back down at his hand.

“Why are you fine?” she asked, shrugging off his hand.

“Oh, Alicia and Angelina were sure to snap us out of it,” Fred stated, then placing his hand on her shoulder.

“And how exactly did they do that?” She raised an eyebrow, shrugging off his hand as well.

“Like this!” the twins shouted before reeling back and smacking both Harry and Ron in the back of the head. The two fourth year Gryffindors yelled out in pain, grasping at their heads before spinning around and glaring at Fred and George.

“What the hell was that for?!” Harry barked.

“You were drooling mates,” George smirked.

“And it’s time to go back in,” Fred pointed behind them at the entrance to the castle where most of the students were filing through already.

They followed the crowd back into the castle and through the corridor into the Great Hall. It seemed the Durmstrang students took a special liking to the Slytherins as almost all of them were seated at their table. The Beauxbaton students seated themselves at the Ravenclaw table, much to Ronald’s disdain. And it was Ronald’s unhappiness that also fueled Hermione’s sore mood as well. Silently she ate her dinner and watched as Ron fawned and drooled and ogled the girls from Beauxbaton for the entirety of the night. When a particularly pretty one approached their table asking him for the bouillabaisse, Ron was left speechless.

“Honestly, Ronald. She’s just a girl. You know, like every other girl in this school. Including myself,” Hermione tried to reason with him.

Eyes still trained on the French beauty, Ron responded with incredulity, “That’s ridiculous Hermione. She’s no girl. That right there is a woman. Leagues above any girl here at Hogwarts.”

A woman? What did that even mean? She was only a few years older than Hermione. She didn’t even look that much older. Hermione turned her attention back to the food on her plate and found that she had lost her appetite. So instead, she pulled a book from her bag and buried herself behind it, slowly sinking lower into her seat as the night went on. She missed the moment they revealed the cup that competitors were to put their name in, too engrossed in the words on the page, and when dinner was over, she was the first to leave the Great Hall. Only, she didn’t head straight for the common room like she usually did. Instead, her feet carried her through the castle until she found herself in the library once again. As she seated herself in her favorite corner, she was reminded of something Professor Trelawney had said her third year. ‘Oh you may be young in years, but the heart that beats beneath your bosom is as shriveled as an old maid’s, your soul as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave.’

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“Another potion successfully made brother.” Fred grinned, stretching the muscles in his neck and back.

Fred and George Weasley currently sat in an abandoned classroom as they finished the answer to all their problems. Well past curfew, the pair had just filled two vials with the clear aging potion and capped them triumphantly.

“I’d say that one was particularly easy, wouldn’t you?” George replied, standing up.

“As easy as beating Percy in a game of wits.”

“Off to bed then?”

“Actually, I think I may pop down to the kitchen and grab myself a bite to eat. Clean up here?” Fred asked, motioning around the room. The classroom was their own personal haven; tucked away in an old corner of the castle that few ventured it was their go-to space for all their inventing and brewing needs. It was only thanks to their time with the Marauder’s Map that they knew about it.

“Yeah. See you in the morning Freddie.” George waved goodbye as Fred exited the classroom and headed down towards the kitchens. The low light of the hallway candles washed the castle in a soft glow that contrasted with the icy chill of nighttime. The castle was always cold at night. However, the frigid temperature didn’t bother Fred Weasley as much as usual that night. He was far too excited to be bothered by much of anything, really. Tomorrow was the big day. They were going to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire, and it was going to be glorious. Fred had no idea if one of them would even be picked to compete, but just the idea of winning the prize money was enough to keep a spring in his step and a surge of determination coursing through his veins.

He kept quiet as he tip-toed through the halls, just in case Filch was lurking around corners. Turning down the last corridor he was surprised to see, not the scraggly old Mr. Filch, but the familiar figure of a bushy-haired fourth year. Hermione Granger stood in front of a picture on the wall, the torches in front of her illuminating her and making her hair glow like an ethereal halo.

“Hermione?”

She spun around, glancing back and forth, looking like a frightened animal. Fred stepped closer, out of the shadows so she could see him more clearly. He watched her relax, her shoulders dropping from her ears and slumping forward. She laughed lightly.

“Merlin’s beard, Frederick! You scared me!” Hermione exclaimed with an edge of relief in her voice.

“Shhhh!” Fred hushed her, rushing forward, and covering her mouth with his hand. “Do you want to wake the whole castle with your yelling or just Filch in particular?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm. She stiffened beneath him, the two of them silently listening for any signs of Filch or his wretched cat, Mrs. Norris. When Fred failed to hear anything, he let out a breath of relief and looked down at the little witch in his arms. Suddenly he was awash with the memory of the last time the two of them had been that close. The night in the forest when they were hiding for their lives. He removed his hand and stepped back.

“I didn’t realize it was so late. I was coming back from the library and decided to go for a bit of a walk,” whispered Hermione, looking up at him under the glowing light of the torches. “How are we going to get back to the tower without being seen?”

“Simple. I know a shortcut. Come on.” Fred grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her along with him down the corridor. Her hand was small and cold but fit surprisingly well in his own. His stomach growled, and mournfully he thought of the late-night snack he originally set out to get. He continued down the halls at a quick pace until they reached the tapestry he had been looking for. Tapping his wand five times at its center, he pulled back the tapestry to reveal a hidden passageway. He let go of Hermione’s hand and the two slipped behind the tapestry, letting it fall back into place behind them.

“Lumos,” Fred spoke softly, lighting the dark space with the tip of his wand.

“Amazing, this must be one of the secret passageways on the Marauders’ Map,” marveled Hermione.

They made their way down the narrow passage, taking up a leisurely pace, not feeling the pressure of getting caught by Filch or his cat. The shuffling of their feet on the cold stone filled the silent space around them as they climbed up stairways and weaved around corners. As they walked, a nagging thought pricked at the back of Fred’s mind until he couldn’t help but voice it.

“So, walks about the castle past curfew. I didn’t take you for the type Granger,” Fred teased. Hermione let out a loud and vulgar scoff. Fred turned, looking down at her incredulously, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The young witch lifted her chin in indignation, “What sort of type did you take me for?”

Fred shrugged, “You know, the good girl type. Doesn’t get into trouble. Doesn’t break rules. Perfect Prefect material.”

“I’ll have you know I break plenty of rules.”

“Yeah, but only when it’s Harry or Ron’s idea,” pressed Fred, hoping to goad her into revealing something he didn’t already know.

“That’s not true!” She turned her head and glared at him.

“No, don’t believe it.” Fred shook his head.

“Well, believe it because it’s true.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

“Yeah, tell me one rule that you’ve broken that wasn’t Harry or Ron’s idea.” He glanced at the younger witch out of the corner of his eye. Her brows were scrunched together, her pink lips pouting as she thought. Then her face opened in excitement, eyebrows lifting and mouth opening, revealing her large front teeth below her upper lip.

“In first year, it was my idea for Harry to sneak into the restricted section of the library over Christmas holiday,” she stated proudly.

“That doesn’t count! You only thought of the idea; you made Harry do all the dirty work,” countered Fred.

“Alright, in second year I brewed Polyjuice in the girl’s lavatory and nicked lacewing flies from Professor Snape’s office to do it,” said Hermione triumphantly as they reached the end of the passageway, coming out the other side right next to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione spun around, crossing her arms in front of her as she waited for his response.

“Who’d have thought that the Hermione Granger was such a delinquent,” praised Fred, grinning widely. He was truly impressed. He had no idea that the bright little witch had it in her to steal from a teacher.

Hermione sniffed haughtily. “That’ll teach you to underestimate me, Frederick Weasley,” she stated coolly, but her golden brown eyes shown with flee, like he had just given her the best compliment in the world. He then watched in awe as she turned around, mutter the password, and disappeared through the portrait into Gryffindor tower.

“It sure will Granger, it sure will.”

Chapter 6 >>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

#fremione #fred x hermione #fred weasley #hermione granger #slow burn #fan fic #fan fiction #harry potter

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xsteriism · 4 years

Text

Too Good to be Bad

Chapter One: Trouble is Cooking

by celestial-irondad

1, 225 words

1/?

based on @funkylittlebidiot’s chat post about ironstrange

edit: click on the chapter title to read it on ao3!!!

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There are two sides to Dr Stephen Vincent Strange. On one hand, he can be holed up in the Sanctum Sanctorum for weeks on end, just reading book after book after book. He’ll have a bitter cup of tea, no sugar, right beside him as he reads in his rocking chair, with the polluted air of New York City penetrating into his living quarters.

On the other hand, sometimes all he wants to do is to bring chaos to the lovely New York City. He usually has a plan ready whenever these episodes happen, something to spice up the petty lives of the Avengers. For example, Stephen’s currently in the Avengers’ quinjet, tied up like some rope bunny, on his way to the Avengers’ Compound. It may not seem like it, but everything is falling into place. Stephen’s capture was planned, his trip to the Compound was planned. He’s going to destroy the Compound from the inside and these measly superheroes won’t even see it coming.

Of course, Stephen made it slightly difficult for the Avengers to capture him. He’s not a complete idiot. He fought with whoever was present for about an hour, only showing off the simple spells he had learnt. Nothing more was needed with these superheroes. He could have gone on, too, if it weren’t for the fact that he had a time schedule to keep.

The moment the Compound comes into view, Stephen is momentarily winded from the sheer beauty of it. The architecture is breathtaking and whoever designed it deserves a golden, gleaming medal. But before he can make a comment on it, he’s carried into the building by one very strong Captain America, who doesn’t seem to break a sweat.

‘Did I not gain weight?’ Stephen questions himself internally. ‘All I had been doing this past month was eat, sleep and shit. Surely, I had gained some weight?’

He doesn’t dwell much on it because he’s forced out of his thoughts when he’s unceremoniously dumped into a very hard wooden chair. He groans at the ache growing at his rear end, cursing at the existence of magic binding ropes. He sighs soon after, his mood quickly turning sour. This was supposed to be a fun little excursion, a break from being cooped up in the Sanctum Sanctorum for the past two months. Why did the Avengers have to ruin everything? What kind of sick joy did they obtain from this? All Stephen wanted, was a little explosion, a small firework celebration as the Compound burned.

“Is the interrogation part going to begin?” The sorcerer drawls, looking utterly disinterested, even yawning to prove his point. The Black Widow steps forward threateningly, with her knives gleaming in the light before she’s promptly stopped by Captain America.

The doctor smirks. Is it this easy to rile these heroes up?

The Black Widow stabs her knife into the armrest of Stephen’s wooden chair, looking dangerous. “Here’s how it’s going to go. We’re going to ask some questions and you’re going to answer them.”

Stephen raises his eyebrows and closes his eyes as he nods. These superheroes are cute if they think he’ll spill all his secrets just because they asked him to.

“What are the sorcerer’s plans?” Captain America asks arms crossed over his chest, trying to look more intimidating, obviously to no avail. Stephen just looks even more unimpressed, if possible.

“Oh, mine?” He asks back, looking around as if deep in thought. “Hmm… I don’t really know. I was planning to make myself a nice cup of tea after this, but I think that may have to be postponed.”

The Black Widow drags her knife along the length of the armrest. The doctor glances at the action, not bothered in the slightest. It would take much, much more to successfully instil fear into him. Her little tricks may work on the normal people she usually interrogates, but not Stephen. Really, is this the best she could do? Stephen is the Sorcerer Supreme and he feels slightly offended that the Black Widow thinks she can scare him by just using mere knives.

Please, he’s seen scarier in his dreams.

“What is the—” before Captain America can finish repeating the same question, the door to the interrogation room slides open. And the sorcerer finds himself out of breath for the second time that day.

Stephen is absolutely sure that the man who walked into the room is not of this world. He’s wearing the tightest black shirt that clings to his body in the most delicious of ways, complementing his muscles beautifully. His sweats are too loose for Stephen’s liking, but well, he can’t win everything, now can he? The man has an oil stain on his perfectly sculpted face, smudged right below his eye, right on his cheekbone, highlighting it. His lips are quirked into a stunning smile, his hair a lovely shade of brown. Stephen isn’t quite close enough to see the colour of his eyes, but he’s sure they are also as enchanting as the rest of him.

“Hey,” the ethereal man says, pausing at the sight of Stephen tied up. He pauses a little too long, eyeing the villain up and down, clearly liking what he sees. “Oh, hello to you, too. Anyway, stop by the lab if you want your suit patched up, Nat. I have some upgrades in mind, too.”

Oh, his voice. Such an angelic sound. The sorcerer thinks he can listen to it forever. Forget being cooped up in the Sanctum Sanctorum reading his ancient books, Stephen wants to be cooped up in this man’s room.

The doctor kicks Captain America in the shin, uncaring that he doesn’t get a dramatic reaction. “Wait, what? This is your boss?”

The man in red, white and blue frowns, unfolding his arms. “What? No? Tony’s not our—”

Right at this moment, a golden portal appears, blazing as Wong steps through it. The assistant falters at the sight of the people gathered, but quickly casts a spell that shields him from the rest and casually starts to untie Stephen. The Avengers are in a state of shock, but before they can move, Wong seizes the opportunity to momentarily paralyse them. Their faces are varying degrees of shock and fury when they realise what happened, but before they can shout, Stephen speaks.

“Why have we been wasting our time with these idiots,” Stephen cries, pointing to everyone in the room, besides his angel, “when this being has been roaming around the halls of this building? Oh, Vishanti! This has been a colossal waste of my time!”

Wong mumbles an incoherent reply, before speaking up. “So… I’m guessing we won’t be blowing the building up today?”

Stephen looks at Wong incredulously, rubbing his sore arms before using a little spell to knock the occupants in the room unconscious. He catches Tony right before he hits the ground, cradling the body close to his chest as if Tony was a delicate piece of china. The rest of the Avengers drop to the floor like sacks of potatoes, creating ‘thunking’ sounds that make Stephen smile.

“Of course not, Wong,” Stephen rolls his eyes, hoisting Tony into his arms, carrying him bridal style. “Let’s go back to the Sanctum. We’ll blow this place up another time. I have important things to do, now.”

----

hello! i hope you enjoyed this little fic! maybe i’ll write a second part to this, who knows? anyway, please reblog if you liked it, give me some comments?

*this is my first time writing ironstrange and i dont usually write romantic ish relationships (im hermit crab irondad, not hermit crab ironeveryone), but i hope its good enough..?

thank you @technically-a-little-dragon for beta-ing this fic and for getting me to write for the marvel fandom again i dont really know who to tag, but since i always tag you... @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad @jaijaiwriter @hollandrecs

#ironstrange #tony stark #stephen strange #villain stephen strange #based on a chat #wong #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #bamf nat #black widow #captain america #genius stephen strange #celestial-irondad #fluff #crack #Marvel crack

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nellie-elizabeth · 3 years

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Supernatural: Carry On (15x20)

Oh my god. Lol. So... did Andrew Dabb forget to read back through his finale script one final time before deciding it was finished? Because like... Dean says "if we don't keep living, all that sacrifice (Cas and Jack) will be for nothing." Cut to a comically short time later, where Dean dies and is just like "time to go, let's not keep fighting, I'm tired lol."

Like WHAT did I just witness. I'm so grateful, in this moment, to a little show called The Magicians, because in April of 2019 they ended their fourth season with such an egregiously terrible decision that I literally couldn't sleep for a week, I was shaking and intermittently sobbing, I had never felt so betrayed and devastated over any piece of media before. After that, I've sort of become numb to bad endings, and this is no exception. This episode was absolutely terrible and I'm just sort of like... meh. I'll ignore it. Whatever.

I do want to forego the usual "pro" and "con" sections in this review, and do a more traditional full-on ramble about my thoughts, because they're kind of convoluted, if I'm gonna be honest.

The first thing I want to say, is that this wasn't the worst finale I've ever seen. Objectively, it was a terrible episode of TV and an insulting wrap-up to a fifteen-year-show. But I have a very specific category for the worst finales ever, and those are the ones that provide endgame states for the characters that are... unfixable in a post-canon but still-canon-compliant world. So, for example, the How I Met Your Mother finale killed off the titular mother and betrayed years of buildup, and that's a real-world sitcom. There's no resurrecting people from that shit. Or like. Game of Thrones being an obvious recent example. The Rise of Skywalker is a good movie example.

This? It's a little different. The endgame state of Sam and Dean and Cas is that they all die and spend eternity in Heaven, where they get to be with all their loved ones. I mean, sure, we don't get to see that, we only get a throwaway line to imply that Cas made it out of Super Turbo Hell The Empty, but that's the endgame state of the characters. And that's more or less what I would have wanted, as like a... years after canon situation. Right? So yeah, this was a bad episode, but if I edit in the shit I wanted to see, none of it contradicts the canon in a way that's not workable. It's a sad world we've come to where this is all I can really grasp at, but there is a perverse sort of comfort in that.

So, should we talk now about how Dean dying is a betrayal of what they said this whole season, and maybe whole show was about? Ha. It's so ridiculous. It's embarrassing. I watched Dean's final moments and I was embarrassed for Jensen. For Dean. For all of us watching.

Just. Watch the end of 15x19 again, okay? Watch it, and hear what they're saying. Yay, we killed God, we killed the author of the story, which means we get to write our own stories, finally. We get to do that. After all this time, we're finally free. And what does freedom look like? It looks like Dean dying on a run of the mill hunt.

We get this little montage of Sam and Dean at the Bunker, you know? They're doing laundry and going on jogs and cuddling with Miracle the dog, and they're brushing their teeth and going on hunts, I guess. And the emotional resonance from that scene was just kind of... ennui? And boredom? And that's what's so terrible and depressing about this ending. It's so empty, because Dean didn't get to do the thing he said he was fighting for. Sure, he was always fighting for Sam, but he should have been able to fight for himself, too, right? He should have been able to fight for a life after the years of programming. He should have gotten to be a rock star or a chef or worked at an animal shelter or become a foster parent or grown old as Sam's brother, as an uncle to his kid. He should have been able to find love, if he wanted that.

Look, I'm not even mad that Dean died in a "mundane" way. It's not like "nooo Dean is too coooool to die in such a laaaame way, he's a bad-ass and he should have gone out in a blaze of glory!" That's actually not what I'm mad about at all. Sam died old in his bed, and Dean should have been able to do that too. This whole season, since finding out that Chuck was the ultimate big bad, was supposed to be about free will, and Dean never got to figure out a way to be happy and find peace. That's fucking dour and stupid.

I kept saying, in the buildup to this finale, that a depressing, grim-dark ending to this show would be a failing of the themes they set up, and, hey, they didn't go grim-dark, because the writers did not think this was grim-dark. They thought it was powerful and emotional and resonant. You can tell they thought that, even though they're... uh... what's the word. Wrong? Yeah. Wrong. You know what I realized while watching this? It was just a lamer, less resonant and appropriate version of Sam's sacrifice at the end of season five.

Right? Because after Sam yeets himself into hell to save the world, Dean just has to keep going, and as Cas says, "you got what you wanted, more of the same." Just... more of the same. And Dean couldn't hack it, he was miserable without Sam, and Sam came back and we got ten more years of the fucking show. And now... what, we just get that in the other direction? Because Sam is the strong one and can soldier on without Dean because his codependency was a little less crippling? Wow, what a great ending for him, I guess. It doesn't work because we've seen Sam without Dean, and he falls apart too.

And now the show ends with Sam alone. Sure, he gets married to a blur in the background and has a kid, but let me ask you a question, here. Did Sam... want to be a father? I didn't know that was a thing he wanted, that would make him happy, honestly. I had no idea. So this doesn't seem like it works as something even remotely satisfying as an endgame state for him either. It's bleak.

And it's bleaker because there's nobody else in this fucking episode, y'all. The other big theme in all of Supernatural, after "free will" would be "family don't end in blood." And guess what? Apparently it does? Apparently Sam and Dean are each other's whole worlds and nothing else matters? We get... an implied wider world but we don't get to see it. We don't get to see Eileen, Jody, Donna, anybody left alive for Sam. So from the standpoint of characters that we know and give a shit about, Sam loses Cas, Jack, and Dean and lives the rest of his life lonely and sad. Nobody else even comes to Dean's funeral. It's just Sam alone with the dog. Like... that's bleak.

This ending gave the fucking Wincest shippers everything their hearts could desire, for fuck's sake. Like. Why did they cater to that and not follow through on the idea that they had created a family and community beyond each other? You know, this thing called character growth?

To take a brief break from the negativity, I will say something here about Sam and Dean. In the weird hysterical euphoria of the whole Destiel thing a couple weeks ago, I lost sight of something, which is that for me, the draw of this show has always been the relationship between Sam and Dean. I was never a brothers-only person, but it was their fucked up codependent bond that drew me to the show over the years. I loved the idea of Destiel, but I never thought it was going anywhere, so really I loved Castiel, the character, separate from the context of his relationships. Having a big dramatic death scene where Dean says "I love you so much" and there's a forehead touch and Dean saying "it's always been you and me" and confesses that he was scared to get Sam at Stanford because he didn't know how to survive if he didn't have him, and to have Sam say "don't leave me" and then give Dean permission to go... I mean, all of this is catnip, right? All of this is great, like, in isolation, it was such an amazing "broment," as the fandom says. I mean, it made no sense with context, it was utterly insulting in every way, but Jensen and Jared acted their lil' hearts out and I could tell they were really in the moment.

So let's talk about Cas for a second, while I have you here... they never should have done the big gay confession. They just shouldn't have even fucking bothered. I'm telling you, that makes this whole thing worse. It felt completely intentional and weird that Dean never acknowledged the confession, never told Sam, never had a moment where he specifically reckoned with Cas' loss. But that's what I knew would happen. I knew it in my blood and bones, and as the meta started pouring in, I knew people were getting their hopes up for nothing. See, Cas saying "goodbye Dean" and the handprint on the arm... I knew that was their catharsis, that was the writers' and Misha's big goodbye to the character of Castiel. They thought they fucking nailed it. I knew we wouldn't see him again.

Like I said before, I have to be satisfied with an endgame state that doesn't totally suck, right? So, we get this throwaway line from Bobby that Jack fixed Heaven and made it not suck, and that Cas helped. This implies a multitude of things that are... comforting. At least Cas doesn't get that dour, dark, helpless oblivion that I worried he'd get. We can assume Jack plucked him out of the Empty, that he gets to be with his son, and that, if the fic writers so choose, Dean and Cas can have lots of gay sex up in Heaven. I think Misha not being in this finale was frankly a slap in the face to one of the biggest and most important characters the show has ever seen, you know? And I think that they kept him out of it so we could have Schrodinger's Destiel. Because if we'd seen Cas in heaven, and he hadn't confessed his big gay love, Dean could have been like: "hey Cas! Buddy! Good to see you, my friend." But since we did have the love confession, whatever Dean did upon seeing Cas would have to mean something in that context. So instead we didn't get to see him at all.

Which is stupid.

Also stupid is that the big sacrifice was to save Dean's life and then a couple weeks later he gets impaled on a rusty nail and dies anyway. Thanks for making the whole thing feel so utterly pointless and empty. No pun intended. Wow, they did Misha dirty, here, didn't they.

Turning back to Sam's ending, let's just talk about that for a minute. Like I said, I'm happy he got to live a long life and die an old man, what Dean always wanted for him. But nothing about that ending was more poignant because Dean was gone. In fact, it just made it super duper depressing and lame. There was no reason Dean couldn't have gotten a happy life, too. It adds nothing that he died young and unfulfilled. Like, you know how people joke about the end of the Titanic, where you see that Rose's Heaven is reuniting with Jack and everyone else on the ship, and people will say "well, gosh, that's kind of a slap in the face to Rose's family" since she clearly got married and had kids and grandkids? This is literally that! Like, having an ending where a young-again Sam Winchester gets to Heaven, and his whole Heaven, the thing that he needed to find peace after death, was a return to his brother... look, I'm not mad about that, but what the fuck about nameless blurry wife that we couldn't even confirm to be Eileen for some reason? What about everyone else?

And did Sam... keep hunting? Did he go to law school? Maybe there were background details that confirmed what he ended up doing with the rest of his life besides becoming a husband and father, but I didn't see evidence of it because I was too busy rolling my eyes out of my skull at how dumb this all was. So Sam just gets a generic "raking leaves in the yard" ending, like we saw for Dean at the end of season five, with nothing to challenge that. Even though we've seen why life outside of hunting, life without Dean, isn't satisfying for Sam, we're now supposed to accept it as how he spends the rest of his life, without seeing him put the work in to get there?

One thing I realized watching this episode is that it tries to play the middle. Like, with the Cas thing, they didn't want to make his noble gay sacrifice totally meaningless, so they couldn't just pop him back into the story, but they did give us one single throwaway line to reassure fans that he's not still in The Empty. So, people who don't give a shit about Cas can assume he's off being Jack's assistant and doesn't really interact with humans in Heaven. People who do give a shit about one of the show's main characters can assume that he has a home in Dean's little Heaven neighborhood too, and they all get to buddy around for eternity. People who don't like Eileen? Well, Sam married some nobody who we never got to meet. People who liked her? Well, you can't prove that wasn't Eileen, can you? Even Dean driving around in the impala waiting for Sam to die so he could finally be happy with his fucking soulmate or whatever. Time in Heaven is weird, Bobby says. It's metaphorical. You could assume that the driving montage was actually intercut with other moments, with Dean getting to see dear old mom (and dad, I guess, but ugh), and spending time with Bobby, with OG Charlie, with other familiar faces, and new ones as they finally reach their own deaths on Earth and come up to party with the rest of the gang.

Like, in a better show, in a world without Covid, maybe they had plans along these lines, to get more guest characters back and show Dean getting sappy hellos to a bunch of side characters in Heaven. To be quite honest, I would not have been mad about that. If you're going to make Dean die young and never give him the chance to find out who he could have been when the choices were all his own, which is, in case I haven't made that clear, a horrendous and insulting ending for his character... at the very least you could have given us the cheesiness of seeing him hug his friends in Heaven. Jeezus.

I want to hammer in this point one more time before I wrap up: they ended the show by saying that character development didn't matter. They had Dean's dying speech be a meta reference to the pilot episode of the show, they had him saying "it's always been you and me" and then they confirmed that with everything they had. Sam became a father, but did he have a happy life? Seems like he pined away for his dead brother for decades and then died. If the pilot had never happened, if Sam had stayed at Stanford and Dean had gone on hunting by himself, you know what would have happened? Sam would have had a "normal" life and married a woman and had a kid, I guess, and grown old, and Dean would have died fighting some vampires in a barn. This show has been on for fifteen years, and the ending did not honor anything about the journey the characters had been on.

A particularly egregious example is the early scene with the pie festival, where Sam is like "I'm sad about Cas and Jack" and Dean is like "if we don't go on living it won't honor their sacrifice" like... yeah, I get it, bringing people back from the dead time and time again is supposed to be a bad thing that Sam and Dean did for each other because they were selfish. So Sam giving Dean permission to go was supposed to be a growth moment. Sam and Dean accepting that Cas was gone and not even asking Jack to make sure he got sent to a happy eternity instead of oblivion, that's supposed to mean they've learned their lesson. And what a fucking lesson to leave things off on. Jesus, this is grim.

So like. As I try to figure out what to say at the end of this review, I will point out one glimmer of light in the darkness, which is that this finale isn't going to ruin the rewatchability of the show for me. I can still come back and re-watch without feeling like the whole thing is ruined by the ending. It's more than I can say for some other shows.

But honestly, if this was the ending we were going to get? Why the fuck not leave it open-ended? I did not enjoy 15x19 particularly well, but at least that episode left them on the open road, with a wide future ahead of them. Anything might have happened. It's their turn to write the story, right? Chuck is dead, the writer is "dead", the show is over, and now the possibilities are endless. That would have been an anticlimactic ending, for sure. But this ending just turns around and slaps the whole point of that first ending in the face and says "haha bitch you thought". They don't get to write their own stories. We see exactly how those stories end, and it's lame. Leave something to the imagination, yo. Leave it vague how and when they died, what their lives turned into. Show them in Heaven, getting to their peace at last, reuniting with their friends, including Cas. Put in a significant glance between Dean and Cas, and leave it to the internet to go wild about what it could mean. And never answer when fans ask "so what happened, when did they die? Did they keep hunting?" Just leave it vague. If this was the only ending they could come up with, I'd rather be left with questions.

This finale gets a low score from me, because they couldn't even pull on the right heartstrings to make me sentimental...

4/10

But the show as a whole? Well, it was a mess, and it had some seriously high highs and some devastatingly low lows. It's a bummer that the lowest low came in how they tried to wrap up the whole shebang, but like I said, this ending isn't going to ruin the whole fifteen-year run for me. We get to make up what happens next, and we can make Jack's new and improved Heaven our post-canon fix-it haven. I don't think there's ever been a show in my life quite like Supernatural. The fandom is so bonkers. The meta narrative of the show is so convoluted and twisty and goes in so many unexpected directions. I liked watching this show for its own sake, and also as like... an anthropologist trying to discover something about humanity and American values specifically. It wasn't always a pleasant experience, but it was one I know I'll never forget. My heart tells me to give the show as a whole a high score, representing the many, many hours of joy and dread and delight and horror I got over the near decade I've personally been watching. How do you wrap up fifteen years in a score out of ten?

9/10

#review #supernatural #supernatural review #spn #spn 15x20 #spn finale #lol y'all #it's been a JOURNEY

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always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years

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Hey y'all! So I wrote a relatively long oneshot (for me) in 24 hours or so (breaking my record for most words written in one day in the process), and I decided to dump it all on you. This is minimally edited and was posted with a cat on my lap, so if you spot any errors, please let me know.

Also, while it's not technically necessary to read all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me and all the things that you never ever told me, which are the fics which this is an alternate ending for, it will be really really helpful to understanding this. (All the smiles is here and all the things is here.) Do be careful of the warnings for those two, as they're quite dark fics. But then again, so is this, so...y'know.

Oh and please don’t question why the Cherri POV is present tense and the Newsie POV is past tense, idk either it just felt right.

Title: if i died we’d be together

Wordcount: 5316

Summary: Cherri Cola dies. NewsAGoGo refuses to accept this.

The Phoenix Witch is unhelpful (and an asshole, if you ask Newsie.)

Warnings: major character death, implied/referenced suicide, implied self harm, minor violence, an extraordinary amount of swearing.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

In this universe, the Phoenix Witch doesn’t come for Cherri Cola. He lies in the sand, alone and in pain, unable to move himself a single step further. He would get up if he could, he would go home, but he’s helpless. Alone and afraid, truly afraid for the first time in years. He doesn’t want to die alone. He doesn’t want to die knowing the people in his life will never know what happened to him. D, Pony, Newsie…

Cherri doesn’t want to die. Not like this. He was supposed to die helping his friends, not because he decided that life wasn’t worth living and let himself fade away into the heat of the desert. He doesn’t want to leave his friends, he doesn’t want to leave his family. Did they even know he counted them as a family? Does Newsie know he loves them like a sibling?

Cherri Cola dies alone, and the last words on his lips are “I’m sorry, Newsie.”

Cherri didn’t come back. Not after the mask discussion, not after Newsie’s talk with the Phoenix Witch, and certainly not any earlier than that. It was another week of silent dinners and endless, hopeless searching before Pony put eir foot down.

“Cola is dead.”

That was what ey said, breaking the silence of that morning’s breakfast.

Newsie couldn’t even manage the energy to snap at em. “No.”

“Cola’s gone, Newsie. You know it, just like me.”

“He can’t be fucking dead. I won’t- I won’t let it happen.” She hated that her voice shook.

“He is, though. Nothing we can do about it.” Pony’s usually cheerful voice was quiet, beaten-down.

“No!”

“Yes! We gotta accept it!”

“No, we don’t!”

“Maybe-“ eir voice broke on the word. “Maybe it was his time. Or fate or something.”

“Well fuck fate then! Fuck the Phoenix Witch and fuck her ‘plans’! It can’t just be right to fucking take him away, he’s got a fucking family!”

“Well- well- maybe you’re right, but what are we going to do about it?” Pony’s voice had gone quiet again, and ey was staring at the table like it might have the answers somehow.

“We’re going to find the Phoenix Witch and tell her to go fuck herself,” Newsie declared.

D sighed. “I don’t think that’s possible, Newsie.”

“Why not? Cherri’s met the Phoenix Witch, it can’t be that hard.” She got up from her seat, tossing the empty power pup can into the sink.

“I mean…they’ve got a point,” Pony said as D sighed again.

“See? Pone knows I’m right.” She made those words as firm as she could, filling them with all the confidence that she didn’t have but wished she did. “I’m going to go find the Phoenix Witch, flip her off, and get Cherri back.”

“Newsie-“

They ignored D’s worried voice as they went tromping into the back of the radio station, back to the room that used to be theirs and Cherri’s- and still would be, Newsie vowed. She packed up a messenger bag with a few supplies and located Cherri’s mask and ray gun, picking up the ray gun first. It was pink like hers, but a heavier weight in her hands. If she had been poetic like her brother, she would have said it was the weight of the task she was about to take on.

But they were no Cherri Cola, and they knew the real reason was that Cherri’s ray gun was a nicer one than theirs, taken from an exterminator he had fought back in the Analog Wars. It certainly wasn’t the newest model anymore, but it remained a high-quality weapon. Not that he ever used it anymore. Still, even however long after he had last held it, she thought she could feel the ghost of his hands on it, warm and rough as they guided her hands into place the first time she had ever fired a ray gun.

Newsie slid the ray gun into her spare holster and picked up Cherri’s mask. They debated putting it away into their bag, but that felt too much like they were bringing it to the mailbox for a final goodbye. Instead, they put it around their neck, where it bounced against their collarbone as they donned their own mask.

“Alright, Cherri. Let’s go bring you back from the dead.”

Show Pony and Dr. Death Defying didn’t try to stop her when she walked back through the main living space. D reached out as if to grab her wrist, but stopped himself in midair. “Newsie.”

“Don’t try to stop me.”

“I won’t, but I want you to take this.” He held out a crow feather, shining a gorgeous glossy black in the sunlight that streamed in from the window. “I met the Witch, once. During the Analog Wars. And she gave me this.”

“So you think it will help?”

D’s smile was dreadfully sad. “Worth a shot.”

Newsie hesitated a moment and took the feather. It was smooth under her fingers as she tucked it into her bag. “Thanks, D.”

“Of course.” He didn’t tell her to come back safe, and Newsie didn’t promise she would.

Pony skated up before she could walk out the door, handing her a packet of what looked vaguely like glitter. “I don’t have a fancy Witch feather like D, but take some glitter for the road. Because sparkles…”

“Make everything better.” Newsie’s throat burned. “Thanks, Pone.”

“Of course, GoGo.” Ey shot her a grin. “Bring back our Cola. Oh, and give him some shit for dying, would ya?”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Newsie muttered. They paused in the doorway, looking back at the other two. “Thanks, Pone. Thanks, D. Love you.”

“We love you too.” D’s face was sad as he watched them go.

Newsie hopped onto their motorcycle, grinning a bit to themself at the familiar noise of the engine. “Come on, baby, we’ve got an idiot brother to retrieve.”

What had once been called Death Valley was silent as Newsie hopped back off the bike, only a few caws of crows to welcome her. It was said that here, the lines between reality and wherever the Phoenix Witch was were even thinner than they were for the rest of the Zones, practically non-existent. No one could quite agree if it was because the Phoenix Witch lived here, or if the Phoenix Witch lived here because the lines were so blurred, but either way, she was said to dwell here in this aptly named valley. It wasn’t a place many people went by choice, not unless they wanted to risk the wrath of the Witch.

Newsie figured the Witch, her wrath, and all the superstition could all go fuck themselves. She was uneasy, yes, but the valley held no great fear for her. Only great fucking heat, given that the sun was blazing down and the air was almost unnaturally still. Couldn’t the Phoenix Witch have picked a nicer home? This was the closest thing you could get to hell on earth, with the exception of possibly whatever was beyond the Zones entirely. Not that Newsie particularly believed in hell, but she imagined it would be something like this. Blazing sun, still air, the faint haze of radiation, and the omnipresent sting of grief.

“Hey, Phoenix Witch lady! Asshole! Where are you?” The words didn’t even echo, absorbed into the stifling heat, and Newsie took another couple of steps. “I know this is your home- and you picked a pretty hellish one, if you ask me- so come on out and fight me!”

There was no reply, and Newsie dug through their bag to see if they had anything useful. Their hands brushed against a smooth…something, and they pulled out the feather D had given them. “Hey! Asshole! This is your feather, so come and get it!”

Once again, there was no reply, but the feather strained against Newsie’s grip, despite there being no wind. She reluctantly let it go, and it hovered above her hand, turning to point further into the valley.

“Holy shit. I guess I’m supposed to go this way?” She took a few cautious steps, and the feather almost seemed to bob in approval. “Okay, let’s go then.”

They zipped their bag closed again and started walking, following the lead of the feather. It was a longer trek than they really appreciated, across shifting sand through the hazy day. Every so often, the feather changed directions, and Newsie had to turn to follow it. Despite the fact that she guessed she must be out in Zone Seven by now, or possibly even further, the landscape never seemed to change. Rocks and sand and endless, burning heat, matching the burning of her eyes as the sand stung them. She would have been lost in a second if she didn’t have the feather, wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t lost anyways. They certainly didn’t know their way back.

Newsie shoved that concern to the back of their mind. Right now, all they needed to focus on was finding Cherri. The rest could come later. Still, there was no sign of Cherri- or anyone else for that matter- as they made their way further into the dusty valley. It should have been lonely, but the faint hovering presence of someone or something next to her kept away that particular anguish. She really should have been more alarmed by whatever was in the corner of her eye, vanishing when she looked right at it, but the presence felt safe. Almost familiar. So Newsie kept walking.

They walked, and walked, and walked and walked and walked until the steps all blurred together under the infinite sun. It seemed like it should be nearly nightfall by now, but the sun didn’t seem to move, no matter how many steps she took. The landscape didn’t seem like it was moving much either, even though they must have walked miles and miles by now. Every step was harder than the last, sand stinging her eyes and nose and throat as her feet ached.

Still, Newsie was too damn stubborn to give up now. She followed the feather until the landscape did start to shift, the feather pointing towards…a tree? On a hill? It wasn’t like the tiny, scraggly trees that clung to existence in the wettest parts of the desert. No, this was what Newsie vaguely thought might have been called an oak, once upon a time, branches stretching towards the sky as the tree stood proud. The leaves were dark green, striking a sharp contrast to the faded blue of the desert sky and the endless beige sand, and the branches were thick and steady, growing in a pattern Newsie hadn’t seen before. It definitely wasn’t a tree that was meant to be in the desert, but...shade was shade.

She staggered over and flopped down underneath it, every muscle in her body screaming at her. “Hey, Witch, asshole, why do I have to walk so fucking far?”

The only reply she got was the rustling of leaves above her. They didn’t think the Witch was actually watching, but they flipped off the tree anyways, just in case.

She could have sworn she heard faint laughter at that, but it was probably her mind playing tricks on her. Water, she could really use some fucking water. Thank the Witch, or maybe just Pony’s quick thinking, they found a bottle of water when they reached into their bag. It was warmed by the sun and tasted vaguely of rust, but then again, most water in the desert did. Newsie was used to it.

She only got a few minutes to rest before the silence was shattered by a cry. “Help! Help!” It was a young-sounding voice, and Newsie groaned as they climbed to their feet. Having a moral compass was a real pain in the ass sometimes; they couldn’t just ignore a kid in need.

The presence by their shoulder seemed to have grown stronger as Newsie came around the tree and saw a few dracs holding a struggling killjoy who looked to be maybe thirteen or fourteen. She would have to be very careful in order not to hurt the ‘joy, given their close proximity to the dracs. Their hands shook as they pulled out their ray gun, reconsidered, and took out Cherri’s instead. They were pretty sure it had that gyroscope stabilizer (or whatever it was called) that some of the nicer ones were built with, and she would need every advantage she could get. This time, she was almost certain there were ghostly hands over hers as she took careful aim.

“Steady. Breathe,” a voice murmured in Newsie’s ear as they tilted the ray gun carefully. It would be only seconds before the young killjoy was dragged off, so she had to act now.

Newsie took a deep breath, releasing it fully before she pulled the trigger and took out one of the dracs holding the ‘joy, who was able to break free from the other one’s grasp as Newsie took that one down too. She might not have been Cherri Cola, but she was by no means a bad shot, and she grinned a bit to herself. Drac down, drac down, and that was the last of them!

“Fuck yeah, NewsAGoGo, you kick ass.” They figured they might as well encourage themself, since there was no one else around to do it.

That was met by what she could have sworn was another faint chuckle, but there wasn’t anyone else around to be laughing. Well, except the younger killjoy, but they were way too far away to have heard her.

Newsie shrugged and accepted that weird shit was going to happen on a quest in Death Valley. They had to keep moving, they decided, but first they should check on that ‘joy they’d saved.

“Hey, kid! You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thanks to you, I think.” Their voice was hoarse, and Newsie sighed as she handed them her water bottle. Cherri was getting his ass kicked for this, she decided. It wasn’t technically his fault that she was thirsty, but if he hadn’t up and died, she wouldn’t have had to quest after him and then she wouldn’t have ended up giving her water to some random ‘joy.

“Thanks,” the teen said, handing them back the water bottle.

She shrugged. “No problem. You going somewhere?”

“Yes, but not the same way as you.” Their head was tilted curiously. “You’ll have to go that way. Until you see the building.”

Newsie debated for a second if this kid was trustworthy, but ultimately decided it was no worse than following a fucking feather. “Thanks, kid. Good luck, keep running.”

“Keep running!” They flashed a smile and wandered away.

Newsie sighed and started walking again, this time in the direction the kid had pointed. Again, Cherri was so getting an ass-kicking for this. Their feet hurt.

Thank the Phoenix Witch- no, thank Destroya, she wasn’t thanking the Phoenix Witch for fucking anything right now- she wasn’t back on her feet for long. Compared to her earlier trek, it was quite a short distance, maybe a mile or so, to what must have been the building that kid was talking about. It was a small shack which looked vaguely familiar, even from a distance, and Newsie sped up a little as they headed towards it. Shade! Maybe even a place to sit that wasn’t sand! Of course, knowing her luck, the Phoenix Witch would show up and demand she go run some errand or walk another hundred fucking miles or something.

The presence that had been following her this whole time seemed stronger and easier to catch a glimpse of, now, but the was the least of their worries as Newsie approached the building and found it familiar. They could peer in through the window and find D and Pony sitting there in the living room, talking about music (she assumed, given that the only time D gestured so broadly was when he was giving opinions about music).

“D! Pone!”

They didn’t seem to hear her, and Newsie felt her eyes stinging from both sand and grief as she knocked on the door. There was still no reply, no Pony at the door or even sound from inside. But the two carried on their conversation, gesturing and laughing away.

"D, Pony…” If they were back here, that meant they had failed. They hadn’t gotten to the Witch after all.

Newsie gave up her knocking and turned her back to the door, sliding down to sit on the hard ground. Their feet hurt from standing and their legs hurt from walking and their hands hurt from clutching Cherri’s ray gun so tightly. The sun was still blazing, and their throat was dry and sore. Her collarbones were banged up where Cherri’s mask had been bouncing against them, and her hip was bruised from the bag bouncing against it, and everything fucking hurt. They had promised themself they weren’t going to cry, but now they were breaking that promise because their goddamn brother was dead and they couldn’t fucking do anything about it.

“I’m sorry, Cherri,” they choked.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” The words were only a whisper, but the voice was familiar.

Newsie’s heart skipped a beat. “Cherri?”

“I’m here,” the air next to her whispered, right where that presence had been hovering. “Not exactly, but close enough.” If they squinted, they could make out an outline of a familiar killjoy, smiling a soft, sad smile as he pushed his hair out of his face.

“Fucking bastard! Fuck! Fucking hell! You just fucking died on me and do you know how far I fucking walked?”

“Technically, you didn’t walk at all.” That was a different voice, belonging to the cloaked figured who was suddenly in front of Newsie. They could have sworn the person hadn’t been there just a second ago, which was damn inconvenient. Right as she was trying to catch up with her fucking brother? Really?

“Who the fuck are you?” They demanded.

“The deity you came to find, NewsAGoGo.”

Newsie hopped to her feet so she could stand on level with the bird creature, ignoring the ache in every part of their body. “Fuck you! Fuck you, Witch lady! Fuck you and your fate and your cryptic ways! What the fuck do you mean I didn’t walk?”

The Witch seemed faintly amused by her swearing. “I mean that in real-world distance, you went nowhere. You’re on the border, the boundary between this world and the next. Which is how your lovely brother is here, by the way. He belongs to the spirit world, and you belong to the ordinary one, but on this border and this border only, you can see and hear each other.”

“Great, now I’m taking him back to the real world.”

The Phoenix Witch tsked disapprovingly. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, NewsAGoGo. You see, Cherri Cola is dead. He belongs to my domain now.”

“Well fuck that! I’m not letting him go.” Newsie hadn’t walked however many fucking miles to give up now.

“Fine, fine, you can have him.” Newsie’s heart soared. “For a price,” The Witch added.

“And what’s the price?”

“The price is the people in that house behind you.”

“What?”

“Well, technically they aren’t there, per se. That’s not Dr. Death Defying and Show Pony, although it seems that way to you.” The Witch’s voice was annoyingly calm. “But my point being, if you can give up one of them, you can have your Cherri back.”

“Newsie, no,” Cherri whispered from beside her.

“Can you do it?” The Witch was still smiling. “Can you sacrifice one friend to save another? Could you live with yourself if you killed your friend to save your brother? And could you live with yourself if you left him here to save the others?”

“No, I can’t do it.” They knew their voice must sound very small and very tired as they leaned a little against the radio shack that wasn’t the radio shack. “I can’t choose the life of one of my friends over another. I won’t make that choice. I refuse.”

“So do you choose to leave him here? I’ll take good care of him, you know.”

“No. I choose to not choose. I refuse to choose.” She had no idea what she was doing, only that she wasn’t leaving without the lives of all of her family. “I won’t put Cherri’s life over D’s, or Pony’s. I won’t put D or Pony��s life over Cherri’s. They all deserve to live.”

“Oh, hon, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Well I’ll make it work that way!” A thought niggled Newsie’s brain. “What if…What if I gave you something else?”

“Like what?”

“Like my life.”

“No!” That was Cherri again, his spirit form flickering fiercely. “No! Newsie, just leave without me. Please.”

The Phoenix Witch was smirking, but she shook her head. “Sorry, NewsAGoGo. I can’t accept that offer, selfless as it might be. You’ve got things ahead of you, I can’t just mess up my plans like that.”

“Fine, then something else.” Newsie rooted around in her bag, desperately trying to find something to trade with the Witch. Empty water bottle, no. Can of power pup that she never touched, no. Their hand collided with a small, slightly squished packet of something, which they pulled out triumphantly. “Glitter. I’ll give you glitter for my brother’s life.” Newsie knew she sounded ridiculous, but it really was all she had to offer.

The Phoenix Witch threw her head back and cackled; it was almost more of a caw than a laugh but clearly a sound of amusement nonetheless. “Glitter! Glitter! I haven’t laughed so hard in years.”

Their hand was shaking. “Pony gave it to me. Because sparkles- because sparkles-“ Their voice wobbled and they couldn’t finish that sentence.

“Sparkles make everything better,” Cherri whispered softly from next to her. Newsie nodded, trying not to cry.

The mirth on the Witch’s face was gone, replaced by true, genuine pity. “You care so much.”

“Yeah, of course I fucking do. He’s my brother, asshole.”

Cherri’s form was flickering again, and Newsie wished she knew what that meant as the Witch smiled softly. It was a bit of a sad, pitying smile, which they really didn’t appreciate, but they guessed they did make for a pitiful sight. Sandy and dusty, tear tracks on their face as they leaned against a wall and offered a pitiful little pack of glitter in exchange for the person they loved most in the world.

“So…are you going to take the glitter?” Maybe it was dumb, maybe she should know the Witch would never accept glitter, but she had to try.

“Yes.”

Newsie gaped at her.

“Yes, I’ll take the glitter. Not as a reward, but as a symbol. You, NewsAGoGo, traveled uncountable miles of unreality, fought a squad of dracs, and dared defy me, a literal deity, for your brother. I am not a cruel goddess, I do not need to be. The world is cruel enough for me. And your Cherri did not deserve to die. Oh, he was asking for it, he was taunting me into swooping down to take that bracelet you gave him off his wrist and taking his soul on with me just the same, but he still didn’t deserve to die.”

The Witch flicked Cherri on the nose, or where Newsie thought his nose ought to be. “We’ve had some conversations about it, haven’t we? Because you didn’t want to die, Cherri Cola. You wanted to not be in pain. Something everyone wants. And your sister cares so much, so I’ll give you one more chance. This is your last one, lovely.”

“I understand.”

“Of course you do, hon.” The Witch turned back to Newsie. “Keep an eye on this one. He’s a bit prone to wandering off, but he’s yours again. He belongs to the land of the living. I’ll be keeping this, though.” She tapped the bracelet on her wrist, which Newsie recognized as the one they had given Cherri. “And the glitter, just for the hell of it. Tell your friend Pony they have good taste in décor, will you?”

And just like that, she was gone. Newsie was standing alone at the entrance to Death Valley, her faithful motorcycle next to her. At first, she thought the Witch had lied, since she did seem to be utterly alone, but before long, footsteps sounded from within the valley.

Newsie turned as a figure approached, her breath catching at the familiar face. Cherri Cola was exactly how he had been the day Newsie had left him at the radio station, not knowing she would come back to find him gone. His battered green jacket was just as ripped and dusty as ever, and there was a small scar across his right cheek, as always. The only immediately visible difference between Cherri of a few weeks ago and this Cherri was the pure white streak in his hair, white like bones and death and the salt crusted on some parts of the desert. Yet when she looked closer, she could also see a tiny spark of determination in his eyes that had been missing for a very long time.

Cherri came to a stop in front of her, smiling cautiously. “Hey.”

Newsie didn’t know if they should cry, yell at him, or hug him. They settled for a mixture of all three, sprinting over to hug him tightly as they unleashed all the bottled swear words and tears of the past few weeks. “Fuck you, Cherri! Dipshit! Bitch boy! Fucking rat bastard, you left me! You left me alone and I- and I was scared.” Their voice dropped on the last few words.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Cherri’s voice was very soft. “I should never have left.”

A bit of her fierceness came back at that, with another couple of swear words to unleash. “No, you fucking shouldn’t have! Asshole. Little shit! You died, you fucker! You died and I had to walk so fucking far to get you back, fuckface!”

“I’m sorry, Newsie. I’m so sorry.”

She sniffled, unable to stay mad for long. “Just never do that again. Ever. I’m not fighting a squad of dracs to save some child so I can get directions to a fucking fake radio shack and talk to a cryptic deity next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Cherri said softly. “I promise.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

He crossed his heart, giving her a very serious look. “I swear on my best poetry and Show Pony’s glitter stash.”

They let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Now you can never break it, Pone would never forgive you if something happened to their glitter stash.”

“Exactly.” His eyes were glimmering with tears as well, but he was smiling as Newsie led him back to her motorcycle with a “Hop on, fuckface.”

It felt safe to have Cherri’s arms wrapped around her again, his head leaning on her shoulder as she revved the engine. He was a warm, safe presence, just as he had been in the unreality-reality place, but this time he was a solid one. A real one.

They might have been tired as all fuck, but that didn’t stop them from grinning as Cherri muttered something about it probably not being safe for her to drive while this tired. “Hang on, fucker. We’re going home.”

Home was, as it had been for quite a while now, a (mostly) structurally sound radio station in the middle of the desert. It was almost nightfall by the time they pulled up in front of the radio shack, and Newsie was yawning as she climbed off the bike with another huge yawn. Cherri practically had to carry her to the door, but in her defense, he wasn’t the one who had walked however many miles, got in a firefight, and argued with a deity today. So they felt no guilt in leaning against him as he paused on the porch, using his free hand to knock gently on the door.

They were met by an exhausted-looking Show Pony, eyes red-rimmed and blood-shot as ey opened the door. “I’m sorry, no visitors today- Newsie?! Cherri?!?”

Cherri waved with his free hand. “Hey.”

“Am I just seeing things?” Pony’s voice was as shocked as eir face, which was very.

“Not seeing things, bastard,” Newsie yawned. “I said I was getting Cherri, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you’ve been missing a month, Gogo! D and I thought you were ghosted like your bro!”

It probably was not an appropriate reaction, but the first thing out of her mouth was “No wonder I’m so thirsty.”

Cherri started laughing at that, and after a second so did Pony, half-hysterically. “Well, we’ve got water, that’s for sure. D’ll give you plenty, he’ll be so glad you’re alive!” Ey led them inside, still laughing in a somewhat hysterical way. “D, we’ve got some rat bastards alive and back on our hands!”

“Fuck you, Pone.”

“She’s kidding, we love you,” Cherri yawned.

“And I love you too, but you can’t just- just up and disappear! The lot of you, honestly.”

D’s face was only slightly less shocked than Pony’s when he rolled into the living room, and Newsie had a feeling that was only because he was even more exhausted than em.

“Hey,” Cherri said again.

“Cherri- Newsie- Witch, you both, we thought you were dead!”

“Well we’re not, deal with it.” She was too tired for this shit. Shouldn’t arguing with a deity give you a pass? “Also, sorry, Pone, I traded your glitter away to the Witch.”

Ey only looked shocked for a second before eir usual grin returned. “Well, it was meant to be used somehow! Plus, sparkles…”

“Make everything better!” Newsie, Pony, and Cherri all chorused.

D sighed. “Welcome home, you two. Never scare us like that again, alright, Newsie?”

“I wasn’t the one who wandered off and died!”

“To be fair, you kinda threatened to fight the Phoenix Witch and then vanished, sugar,” Pony put in.

Newsie flipped em off, flopping down on the sofa. “My point was, give Cherri shit instead. I’m too tired for this.”

“Oh, I plan on it.” D’s voice was vaguely threatening, but his face cracked into a smile as he turned to Cherri. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”

Cherri stared at the ground. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“And we love you so much,” D added.

Newsie grinned at her brother’s shocked face. “Uh-huh, fuckface. We love you, even if you’re a rat bastard. Now I’m going to sleep for a week, see you all later.”

“Goodnight, Newsie,” Cherri said with a smile. If anyone else said anything after that, Newsie didn’t hear it. They were out like a light within seconds.

In this universe, the radio station is peaceful that evening, the family reunited at long last. Cherri Cola smiles to himself as he lifts Newsie off the sofa, giving D and Pony a thumbs up as he wanders into the back of the radio station. Their room is quiet, and Newsie barely shifts when he sets her down gently on the mattress. They do move, however, when Cherri tries to pull away, reaching out to snatch his wrist. Trapped, he has no choice but to lay down next to Newsie, earning a sleepy noise that sounds vaguely happy.

Cherri grins softly, even if she can’t see it, running his hand along the new set of scars on his arm. There will be time to think about those later, time for the conversations that have to come with that, but for now all they are is a reminder. A reminder that he’s a survivor, a reminder of what matters.

Cherri Cola falls asleep with Newsie by his side, and the last words on his lips that night are “I love you, Newsie.”

#cherri cola #newsagogo #phoenix witch #auri writes #ttlofk #danger days #danger days fic #ttlofk fic #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys

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scentedsongrebel · 4 years

Text

Midnight Missing

Pairings: Steve Rogers × Reader

Summary: When you start leaving the room around midnight only to come back in the mornings Steve starts to become suspicious and who better to help him than the worst spies in history.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of insomnia, mentions of sex but no actual smut, stupid plot ,spying on people, please tell me if I miss any.

Word Count: 5460 ish

A/N: S

So I would start by saying that this is the most stupid thing I have ever written but this idea was in my brain for a long time and then I started writing and then it was complete and I do not see the point in just not posting. So we ware.

Poorly edited so I would get back at it.

Reviews always appreciated. Hope you guys like this one.

“Tringgggggg!!!!!” The alarm buzzes viciously pulling you out of dreamland. Blindly, you move your hand in the direction of the noise trying to get a hold of the devil.

4:00 am. You groan and move to sit, rubbing your eyes with the base of gour palms. The spring of the couch bounces you a little as you adjust to sitting.

Just as you pocket your phone in your pajamas and place your feet on the fluffy sneakers, a voice calls out

“Are you ever going to tell him?”

You groan in irritation

“No” is your simple answer as you gather your pillow and blanket in a ball with the blanket engulfing the pillow.

“You should”

“And you should mind your own business”

The same conversation everyday. no night .4:00 am is night .

“My best friend’s love life is my business”

This makes you laugh as you turn towards

“Really” you ask “All these days and that is the best comeback you can come up with Buck?”

“There really is no scope after that none of your business line” he scaraches the back of his head “But serioualy though, you can’t possibly keep this up for long, he will find out evetually”

“Try me” you say in challenge “We’ve been together an year, I’ve been doing this for 10 months, he has no clue”

“This surely is not healthy” he sighs “Isn’t this like signs of a relationship falling down or something”

“As a matter of fact this is the reason our relationship is still intact and going smoothly” you say a little proudly “and I’ll tell what isn’t healthy” you start to move towards the dark hallway. “You being awake everynight”

“Atleast I’m going to therapy for my problem” he screams after “Unlike you–

But you are long gone.

—————–

Shifting in his sleep, Steve moves his body to your side and extends his arm to pull you close. His arm flies out but never catches a target instead falling on the empty bed. He taps the empty space a few times shifting a little and opening his eyes.

You are not there.

He groans and sits up, looking over at the bathroom to see if you are there. But the light is off.

Just as he comtemplates moving to see where you are, the door to your shared room opens and you enter with a big yawn.

Steve frowns and calls out

“Baby?”

Your head shots up and your eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights

“St-Steve” you stutter a little “Hey baby! Goodmorning”

Steve furrows his brows and rubs his eyes as you move to your side of the bed and pull the sheets to get in.

“Goodmorning? you hate the morning” he says and looks at you suspiciously “You once told me ‘no morning is ever good’”

You want to whine at that. You really wanted to sleep some more and your sleepy eyes are begging to be closed again as you settle on the bed, turning to face him

“Yeah well formality” you say in irritance

“Where were you?” He asks just as you start to lay down

“Midnight snacks” “Again?”

“I love myself some midnight snacks” you shift to face him in your lying position and motion him to get down as well. He obeys lying on his side of the bed facing you. You move your hand to carass his beard “Can we just sleep, I’m really sleepy Baby”

He just nods and pulls you into his side. You lay your head on his chest as his hand gently runs down your back. Sleep seems to have completely left him as his eyes narrow and he looks at the celing.

Something is wrong and he sure as hell would find out what that something is.

———————

Morning runs with Sam were the least challenging thing he had to do as a part of his training. It was more for his inner satisfaction than staying healthy. The serum made sure he was always healthy.

It always made sure he could never get drunk. Never unwind for some time, loose himself.

That is when he discovered running. The thrill, the adrenaline pumping through his veins adicting in itself, and even though he didn’t need to run in the mornings, he actually did.

He has and would always love his runs. The air kissing all over his face, the refreshing feeling. Spending time with his friend, the joy of leaving him behind screaming ‘on your left’ to irritate him.

Steve doesn’t like to admit it but that is his favorite part. He once had you join the morning runs when you just couldn’t sleep but all you did was jump on his back while he ran without any bother, having you scream ‘on your left’ whenever you passed Sam. It was rare bonding moment for his friend and girlfriend. Sam doesn’t agree on that.

Today he sits on one of the park benches sipping from his water bottle. Bucky has joined them on the run today like he does sometimes.

Bucky sits besides him, his head thrown back, Sam beside Bucky, trying to catch his breath.

Sam has given up on trying to compete with Steve these days but with Bucky joining them every rational thought had left his mind. He had ran like his life depended on it and had almost reached Bucky’s level. Steve actually had felt really proud. Bucky hadn’t.

But these aren’t the things that bother his mind right now. All he can think about is you and your suspicious behavior.

Is something bothering you? Can you not sleep properly, do you have nightmares that you don’t wanna talk about?

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“Tin man’s the one that got his ass handed to him today. Why are you the one in agony?” Sam asks bending forward to get a look at him

“You lost bird-brain”

“I got near you without the serum in my blood, I won”

“Oh please you-

“Guys” Steve sighs again

“Oh yeah right” Sam turns to him “Your agony”

“I am not in agony” Steve looks at him irritated “Its just- you know what leave it”

“Hey no now I wanna know” Bucky pushes his body forward to look at Steve “What happened?”

“Its just” he looks down at his feet and sighs “its Y/N”

“Trouble in paradise?” Sam asks raising his eyebrows”

“Umm I- no no not like that” Steve shakes his head “I just - I think she is hiding something from me”

At this Bucky’s form tenses but his two friends- no scratch that, his best friend and the birdman are too busy to pay him any attention.

“Why would you think that” Sam unleashes his inner therapist moving his body forward and leaning his head on his hands, elbows resting on his knees as he carefully listens to Steve observing his body language carefully.

“She-She just” Steve scratches the back of his head “I think- I know it sounds insane and I trust her but its just I think she is sleeping someplace else at night”

Bucky coughs loudly causing Steve to reach over and pat his back as Bucky tries to regain his breath

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah yeah perfect perfect”

“What happened?”

“Choked on my spit” Bucky tries not to wince at his stupid excuse “Forget about me” he shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair

“You think she is cheating on you” Sam asks incredulously and stands up from his position, eyes blazing

“Sam- No- I” but Sam is having none of it as he pounces Steve on his shoulder only to hurt himself and wince in pain. He shakes his hand as he moves his now red knuckles to his other hand to massage.

“Y/N is not like that you ass” he hisses still massaging his knuckles

“Listen- Sam”

“No no no, I don’t need your stupid explanations or you producing evidences” His glare enough to make Steve wince “She is the most pure, innocent and amazing woman and you have no right to accuse her like that, she is my family and I will defend her honor till my last breath”

Sam finishes without breaking eye contact with the blonde super soldier in front of him

A bird chirpes in the distance and a cyclist moves past them, behind Sam, tringing the bell on his handle causing Sam to move ahead a little. A gush of air runs through the open fields of the park as none of them break their stance.

Steve, in his horrified shock unable to speak anything. Sam with his finger poking Steve in the chest, breathing heavily from his intense speech. And Bucky with a curve on his lips.

“Wow” Bucky sighs after a few minutes of silence and then starts slow clapping “that was intense Wilson”

Sam turns his glare in Bucky’s direction and stares directly in his eyes. As those brown eyes shine with the intensity so strong, Bucky suddenly realizes why Steve went Silent.

“Wow, hey” he raises his hands in surrender “I was just saying” he then points at Steve “he is the one accusing your family of treason”

This seems to wake Steve up from his daze

“I am not-” but he is stopped by a punch hitting his jaw “AAAAAAAA”

“WHAT THE HELL SAM!!!!”

“You deserved that”

“No I didn’t” Sam starts to interrupt but Steve quickly stands up covers Sam’s mouth with his hands “SILENT let me fucking speak”

“Language” a glare shot Bucky’s way shuts him up

“I said I think she is sleeping somewhere else” Sam kicks his leg at that still not able to speak “sleeping as in actual sleep. Not like the other thing. I do not think she is cheating on me”

He slowly releases Sam from his hold.

“You mean-” Sam suspiciously questions, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“No”

“Good because she is not” he huffs

“Okay as much as I love this drama which trust me I do” Bucky interrupts “I really think its nothing Steve”

“No you don’t understand Buck” Steve moves to sit beside his friend “I am sure she goes off somewhere in the night, I think she may be having nightmares or insomnia or doing something else and just doesn’t want to disturb me, she is selfless like that”

Bucky snorts at that. “What?”

“Oh nothing just something stuck in my nose” again he tries not to wince at his own horrible excuse just as Sam makes a face but both his friends ignore him

“So you think she just roams around in the night and comes back before you wake up?” Sam crosses his arms across his chest as he sits down on the park bench again. The old bench makes a screechy sound as he takes a seat.

“Yes”. “But why?”. “She doesn’t want to worry me with her sleeping problems I think”. “Or maybe Fury has assigned her some secret mission”

Bucky snorts again and Sam shoots him a look

“What is with you huh?” “Nothing just my nose”.

“Then use a handkerchief Barnes”

Bucky just glares at him

“Should I just confront her?” Steve completely ignores the argument having grown immune to their banters.

A smile makes its way at the corner of Bucky’s lips at that. He always told you you’d get caught but you always brushed him off. He remembers your encounter the morning and his smile dwarfs into a smirk. This will be interesting.

“Yeah that sounds like a-” Sam starts to say

“No” Bucky quickly interrupts. Steve looks at him with his brows knitted while Sam has nothing but irritation “I don’t think asking her is a good idea”

“Why not”

“Well you see” He scratches the back of his head as he looks around. Then moving forward and clicking the fingers of his right hand together.

“You see she is stubborn, you think you’ll ask her and she’d agree?”

“I-”

“Also if she figures out you are onto her she would get more attentive. You need to figure this out yourself”

“You want me to spy on her?

Bucky nods followed by Steve shaking his head.

“No. I can’t do that. Its an invasion of her privacy”. “Yeah but its not her privacy when she is lying to you and married people don’t have secrets”

“What-wait wait a minute” Steve looks at him with widened eyes “We are not married!”

“Yeah but you will be” Bucky waves his hand ignoring the hard blush spreading across Steve’s face “That is not the point. The point is you need to see what mission she is going on at night. And maybe give Fury an earful for making her work that late”

Steve starts to shake his head again and disagree

“No-I—”

“Lets do this” Sam claps his hands together, a grin spreading across his face

“What you agreeing with me or something Wilson?”

Sam holds a hand up to stop Bucky from speaking any further and ignores what he said

“You go to sleep at night like nothing is wrong” Sam says rubbing his hands together “Pretend to fall asleep, we will be hiding in the corridor when she wakes to leave and follow her”

“Wait I thought you were against doubting her” Steve says with a frown

“I am against accusing her of infidelity” Sam says solemnly “This is for her benefit”

“How even?”

“If Fury is sending her on missions at night. Those are not good for her well being. As her friends, boyfriend and family its our responsibility to assure her well being”

Bucky smirks thoroughly enjoying himself

“So its on then” Bucky brings his hand forward Mission: figure out where Y/N is going”

Sam produces a handkerchief from his pocket and places it on Bucky’s hand before placing his hand on top of it. Bucky raises an eyebrow

“What I don’t wanna catch whatever nose thing you have going on”

Bucky just shakes his head and moves their hands to Steve.

“I’m really gonna regret this”

And with a sigh, he puts his hand on top of Sam’s

———————

Tick tok, Tik tok the clock calls out mocking the short lived silence of the room.

Your face is pressed against Steve’s chest as you trace patterns on his skin. His arm is draped across your figure and holds you tight.

You feel particularly sleepy today after the mission you had and definitely don’t look forward you be woken up in the middle of the night again.

Maybe that is why you don’t notice the silence of the room. Or how easy it was to slip yourself off his arms this time.

Your spy brain tells you something is wrong but the sleep deprived side tells it to shut up.

You open the door and look on both the sides before making your way to the living room producing a pillow and blanket from the secret safe you have on the corridor floor before sighing as the couch comes into view.

Setting yourself down for a peaceful slumber you lie down and close your eyes, hoping for no disturbance before the devil alarm rings.

Your peace is short lived as the lights suddenly switch on and the noise of something falling off the roof catches your attention. You are quickly jolted to your senses and in a minute the gun under the couch points at the intruder.

“AHA” The voice screams “caught you”

And with a growl of irritance you realize its Sam

“What the hell is wrong with you”

Sam quickly stands up and dusts his body before pressing his finger to his ear

“Cornered the target in the living room”

You look around suddenly alert pointing your gun in all directions as your eyes move around the room in search of a target.

The compound has been infiltrated and you had no clue? This is really a hit on your spy skills.

Your eyes assess every corner of the room with intensity and when you find nothing, you turn back to look at Sam in confusion.

Footsteps sound from the corridor to the living areas and you straighten pointing your gun there.

A body, large and imposing comes into view and you are full on alert before the familiar mop of blonde hair catches your attention

“Really Sam” The figure says shaking their head

“Stevie?” Before Sam can reply you call out

Steve turns to you and starts to move in your direction before realizing something and coming to stop just a few feet away from you

“Steve Sam said target what target, where is it? Has there been a breech?”

She looks at Sam who scratches the back of his neck looking at her with guilt in her eyes and with a jolt she realizes that the target is in fact herself.

Her eyes widen in realization and she looks at Steve with betrayal in her eyes

“You -You got someone to spy on me?” You point your shaking finger at him dramatically “And that to by the worst spy in history”

“Hey-”

Sam is ignored as Steve shakes his head moving towards you

“No baby I-” You bring your hands in front of yourself in a stop motion taking a step back

‘‘‘

“Why would you spy on me?”

“I sweetheart I just I- didn’t want to but you are not in bed all night and we thought Fury was sending you on some secret mission and-

“How could you Steve” your voice is shaking and eyes are shining, Steve tries to take a step towards you but you raise your hand forward to stop him “I trusted you and you-

“Oh dear god stop it” A frustrated voice calls out from behind you and you turn back to find the black haired super soldier looking at you, shaking his head and pointing his finger at you “You know damn well he will buy it”

Your eyes morph themselves to project a glare at him and scowl angrily.

“I knew you were the traitor!”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender

“Oh no, blondie figured it out himself, shocked me too”

You don’t let down the glare as your eyes narrow at Bucky, staring match initiating itself between two people that have never loose. Once you two played the no blinking game and things got so out of hand when none of you gave up and your eyes were almost dry from the tears before Steve and Natasha had to force you both to stop.

“Okay What is going on here?” Sam looks at the both of you

This snaps you out of your trance and you turn to Steve who looks at you and Bucky with a frown on his face

“Steve I-”

“She’s not really upset at you” Bucky’s stupid voice calls out from behind you “Drama to deviate the subject”

“I swear to god Barnes-”. “Hey Sam lets give them privacy shall we?”

“What no I wanna-” but before he can finish Bucky pulls him out where he previously came from and hides them both behind the wall motioning for him to be quiet by putting a finger on his lips.

“Stevie I-” but Steve just shakes his head

“I thought you really were going on some secret mission but you just you-” He looks towards the couch with your blanket and pillow on it “You sleep here?”

“Stevie I-”

“Do you not like sleeping with me” He really looks heart broken and your heart hurts for him “Do you not wanna be with me and just can’t say it?”

“No baby” You shake your head vigorously and run towards him, enveloping your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest “I love you, I would never want to leave you”

Steve brings his arms around you and hugs you back before bringing them to your shoulders to pull away and look at you. You stare down at your feet before he brings his hand on your chin and pulls your face up to look in his eyes

“Then what is the matter honey?”

“I-I just, its just” You look down again breaking eye contact and look towards the sofa space where you sleep these nights and your mind suddenly clicks “Its the mattress”

“The what?”

“The bed mattress” you nod your head “my back hurts when I sleep on it”

“Really baby” Steve smiles at that “You could’ve said so. We’ll get new ones immediately tomorrow” You smile as you look up at him and sigh in relief

“Oh thank god” You take hold of his hand “lets go to sleep, I can manage on that bed for one day baby”

Steve only smiles at you, giving you a peck on the lips “I love you and you don’t have to think you need to hide something like that from me ever again”

There is a twinge on your chest and before you can feel anymore bad about this you give him your cheekiest of smiles “Oh baby” And then you’re kissing him, softly and passionately, quickly trying to move towards the living quarters

“Are you kidding me!” A voice calls from behind you and Steve breaks apart to investigate before you pull him back with his shirt collar

“Ignore” you say through a peck “it will go away”

“No it won’t” the voice has gotten closer

“Come on Stevie” You pull away from the kiss and pull him towards the bedroom

“Oh no Stevie stop!”.

“Don’t be a cock block Barnes”. “Oh I won’t let you fool my best friend through sex like that”.

“I’m NOT-”

“Okay what is happening here” Steve asks looking at the both of you with confusion

“Nothing Steve, Barnes his just being an asshole”

“No I am not” Bucky says, returning your glare “She’s lying to you Stevie”

“Are you kidding me Barnes” you seethe before clenching your fist and jumping on him to attack but Steve knows you too well. He catches you and holds your body to his “leave me Baby, I’m gonna kill him”

Bucky seems unfazed by your threat as he crosses his arms across his chest

“Tell him the truth”. “There is no truth to tell!”. “Oh Really?”

“Okay what is going on here?” Steve commands authoritatively now as he steps forward letting go of where he was holding your waist “Can anyone explain to me why you two are fighting like children”

“Baby he is being a jerk”. “Stevie she is lying”

You both say at the same time and Steve sighs clearly annoyed. He shakes his head moving one hand to massage his forehead before turning back to you both

“Okay one at a time” He says “Buck you go first”

“Why does he get to-” you start but are stopped by the firm look on his face

“Because I wanna here what he is accusing you of before you clarifying it” He is clearly exasperated. You only cross your arms and pout in return.

Bucky smirks at you and you glare in return before he turns his attention back to Steve and starts

“She is lying to you” He says and you hiss at him, which causes him to actually wince and move a little away from you in fear “She has no problem with the mattress”

“And How would you know that?” Steve crosses his arms

“Because she told me”

“In confidence” you angrily mutter under your breath

“What was that” Bucky turns to you

“It was-” you both are stopped in your argument by a firm ‘shhhhh’ from Steve

“Don’t you two start again” he says in annoyance before turning to you and his face softens like it does every time he is around you. All authority lost as he asks “Baby?”

You sigh shaking your head “Baby I- ”

“What is he saying” Steve points at Bucky’s direction before moving towards you and enclosing his arms around your waist “Why would you lie to me? What is the matter? You know you can tell me”

“I baby I” you stutter. You need to tell him. You can’t keep lying to him. He means so much to you. You love him more than anything. He deserves to know.

You take a deep breath and start to tell him the truth but one look at the little green speck in the vast ocean of his sea blues and every thought leaves your mind as quickly as it came.

“I have Insomnia” you say quickly, your eyes wide and before Steve can say anything, before he can even give a reaction a voice shouts

“Oh for the love of god!!!” Bucky screams pulling at his hair

“Buck-” Steve starts to say

“You snore okay” Bucky damn near screams “Like real bad, was really a problem back in the 40’s too. She can’t sleep in all that noise and so she sleeps here on the couch”

He lets out a real exhale and motions towards you both

“Now go on talk, communicate whatever just solve this because I’m tired of both your dramatic asses”

Steve ignores his comment turning to face you where you are looking at your feet. He brings his thumb and index on your chin and moves your face to look at him. Your eyes shine and lips are pressed in a line and you refuse to look at him.

“Sweetheart look at me” You shake your head “Baby please” he tries again and you slowly move your eyes to make eye contact

“Is that really the reason?”

You sigh nodding your head

“Then why didn’t you just-”

You shake your head vigorously

“I didn’t know what to say to you” You say in a small voice “You had just started sleeping without the nightmares tainting your dreams and I didn’t want you to you know not sleep properly because of me”

“Darling-” you shake your head

“You worry a lot Stevie” You say “your self-scarifying ass would have started staying up or something”

He sighs and moves towards you engulfing you in his arms.

“We can do something about this don’t worry baby”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam screams and with a jolt you realize he has been standing besides Bucky

“This is it?” He scrunches his brows waving his hands frantically around him as he motions between the two of you “You mean to tell me all this melodrama was for this stupid reason”

You sigh and start to speak

“Sam-”

“What the hell is wrong with you two” He says pointing at you “you know there is a person called the sleep doctor that deals with this stuff. And wax earplugs. Best way to block the noise”

“How do you-”

“I was in the army too you know, there is always this one guy that snores like a fucking hippo”

“I don’t think hippos snore-”

“Shut up” Sam shakes his head, crossing his arms “So here’s what is gonna happen,You” he points at you “buy yourself those earplugs and you” points at Steve “Go to the fucking Sleep doctor and for the love of god you two stop being so irritatingly soft and all baby baby”

Bucky hides his smile behind his arms as Sam hushes through his speech

“I’m gonna go to sleep because this is the most ridiculous thing I have ever witnessed in my life and I just can’t anymore. Bye. Good night”.

He joins his hand like praying to someone and leaves towards the living quarters

Bucky’s eyes follow his departure before crossing his arms.

“So umm I just wanted to get things straight and now that they are I’m gonna go”

You narrow your eyes at him “Be careful of your surroundings Barnes, breaking my trust costs a lot”

Bucky shakes his head clearly not afraid as he starts to move towards the living quarters.

“We need to talk after this Buck” Steve calls out

This makes Bucky frown but he does not stop moving away albeit a little slower

“You lied to me”

This makes him turn around

“I didn’t lie to-”

“Later” Steve shushes him and turns to you “Right now we need to talk”

Bucky just pouts, muttering angrily about trust and weird couple blaming thier problems on innocent him, getting out of the view.

There is a minute a silence as you and Steve just stare at each other and try to decide what to say. After a while it is Steve that breaks the ice.

“Sweetheart” he sighs “you can’t do this”

“I know” you nod your head “I just- I couldn’t tell you and I had no clue what to say to you I just-”

“We need to communicate better” Steve gives you a small smile “you should be able to tell me you are having trouble sleeping because I snore so we can discuss a solution like the one Sam gave rather than you sleeping on this uncomfortable couch”

“Yeah I guess” You shake your head “it was a really stupid solution on my part wasn’t it?”

Steve chuckles at that a little “Really shocked me at first to see you just go there and sleep on that couch while Bucky and Sam had me thinking you were upto some top secret mission” or something”

“God that would have been way cooler if I really had some secret mission wouldn’t it”

“Yes way cooler because this wasn’t cool at all” Steve shakes his head moving his hand to place them on both your shoulders “I need you to know that you can no scratch that you have to tell me if something about me bothers you again rather than form a horrible solution for it”

“Hey! Don’t insult my solution forming skills-”

He ignores you and continues

“I love you and I can’t handle you not being able to tell me about things that bother you, I can’t have a relationship where you are suffering because of me”

“Oh Stevie” You whisper, feeling horrible for making him feel like this. Going on your tip toes you pull him down through his neck to give him a deep kiss “I have never felt like I am suffering because I am not, you are the best man there is and I love you. Not telling you was a mistake and I’m so sorry. I promise from now on no secrets”

He gives you a little smile at that and bends down for another kiss and then brings his hand in front of you with the pinky finger poking out “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise well with some exceptions you know-” you say hoking your pinky with his

He just shakes his head with a fond smile, bringing his hand to your cheek.

“You didn’t feel this bad for my feelings when you criticized my caps” He teases

“Those were money caps” you smile “made you look like a dork”

“I get cold in winters!”

“You look like a 100 year old”

“I am a hundred year hold!”

You both are laughing by the end of this exchange before he moves to get on the couch

“You go sleep on the bed” he says tapping the pillow “I will sleep here”

“No you won’t” You start to argue but he shakes his head

“I will go to the doctor tomorrow and I know you are tired, go on”

“I am used to sleeping here so no, you go in”

“I am not moving from here” he shakes his head clearly grown used to your stubborn self and moves to lie down

You cross your arms as an angry pout forms on your face. You know you were strong but not enough to push him away from the couch. But you also can’t leave him here.So you keep staring at him, tapping your foot on the ground before an idea makes home in your mind.

“Hey lets go buy those wax earplugs”

“What? At this time”

“Ya what is it 1;00 pm that is nothing in New York”

“The city is a half hour away”

“So? Its been so long since we’ve taken a road trip and I don’t think I can sleep for a while now”

He gets up from the sleeping position he was in to sit on the couch, his hands on both his sides, his head facing you

“Seriously?”

“Yes please Stevie” you say giving him a big smile “We can stop on the way at the Taco Cart”

“Well how can I say no to tacos” he smiles, standing up.

You both make your way towards the parking garage hand in hand with a promise of Tacos and of more honesty.

Tags: @kayteewritessteve

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers reader insert #steve fanfiction #steve x reader #steve rodgers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader #marvel fanfiction

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thewhumperinwhite · 4 years

Text

Cafe Soulmates: Eye Trauma Edition

SO it occurred to me that with the timeline I set for Soulmate AU, Pax’s mark is a reference to the fact that they only have one eye, but the events that result in the loss of their eye (as detailed in A Vivid Memory) don’t actually have any reason to occur if they meet the boys before the Bad End of their relationship with Vic. So their mark is a reference to a thing that Doesn’t Actually Occur.

So I, you know, Fixed That.

This takes place a few months after Soulmate AU parts one and two, with references to events that happen immediately after part 2, which i’m keeping intentionally vague for now.

(also just cause there’s a very brief reference to it here and in the last one: part of the Lore is that soulmate marks fade to gray if the person they represent dies.)

TW for: EYE TRAUMA, referenced unhealthy relationship dynamics/abusive relationship/gaslighting, gore, betrayal; mild unhealthy thought patterns; vague references to a past suicide attempt.

@whumpitywhumpwhump @burtlederp @gottalovethemwriters

----

The objective of Pax’s trip back upstate to Vic’s lab is to get their stuff and say goodbye. And their soulmates’ guarded sympathy (Kent) and open horror (Sol) at Pax’s description of their relationship (with their boss, who is more than twice as old and three times as rich as they are) is still very fresh in their mind.

But... but it’s harder to remember in Vic’s actual presence. When they tell him they’re leaving, he takes it so well, gathers up the few things he ever let them actually leave at his house (they’ve always been his dirty little secret, that was the initial appeal of the whole thing), cups their face in his soft cold hand and tells them he’ll miss them, and it’s—suddenly it seems dumb that Sol and Kent were so worried about this, that Sol practically begged them not to come. Sol and Kent are—well, Pax loves them, obviously, and knows they want the best for them. But they’re also naïve babies who are probably—projecting their own trauma onto a perfectly safe illicit affair that Pax has under complete control.

So—because it’s in person, and Vic smiles and squeezes their hand, and they owe him after all the patience he had with them when they were young and embarrassing—when Vic says he wishes Pax could help him with one more thing, as a real goodbye, Pax doesn’t say no.

----

Sol is pacing, and he doesn’t know how long he’s been pacing but it must be for a long time because Kent is one of the most patient people he knows and even Kent is starting to get impatient with him.

“It’s just—It’s just a bad fucking idea,” he says, as his best attempt at a defense.

“I know,” Kent says.

“I mean, Jesus, they wouldn’t even tell us this guy’s name, how fucking shady is that? And they fucking worked for him.”

“I know,” Kent says.

“And they’re—they want us to think they’re so tough, they want us to think there’s nothing that can hurt them, but they’re not that much older than we are,” he says, taking a long drag that kills his third cigarette in ten minutes.

“I know,” Kent says, appearing suddenly in front of Sol and distracting him with a warm hand on his shoulder and then snatching the cigarette out of his mouth. “Sol,” Kent says, and searches Sol’s face with his big blue eyes, and then sighs. “Will you sit down, please? You’re making me dizzy.” And Kent steps back out of his space, taking Sol’s cigarette with him, which isn’t fair at all. Sol plops down on his shitty couch, running a hand roughly through his hair.

Kent stubs the cigarette carefully out on an ashtray Karine made in tenth grade art class—one of the few things Sol took with him when he left home, and probably the dumbest of them—and Sol literally isn’t even trying to be an asshole when he immediately pulls another one out of his pocket and lights it. He just needs something to do with his hands and his mouth.

Kent turns back, sees the lit cigarette in Sol’s mouth, draws back like an angry mother (Sol imagines, anyway; he doesn’t actually remember having one of those). Sol blinks at him. “What?” he says blankly around the cigarette.

“Jesus Christ, Sol,” Kent snaps, stomping forward, and this time he doesn’t bother with the cigarette dangling from Sol’s surprised parted lips, he dives straight for the pocket of Sol’s hoodie instead. “Give me your fucking lighter,” he snaps.

“What? No!” Sol shoves Kent’s hand away and Kent obligingly plants his knee next to Sol’s hip and climbs halfway in Sol’s lap, which is more than enough incentive for Sol not to give in easily. He leans back, more to keep from burning Kent with the end of his cigarette than anything else, and grabs the hand Kent is using to reach for his pocket to twine their fingers together and trap Kent’s hand against his chest. Kent uses his other hand to grab the lit cigarette and toss it behind him—it lands on the glass-top coffee table, so that should be fine—and his fingertips brush Sol’s lips, and then he twists that arm between them to reach for Sol’s pocket, grabbing hold of Sol’s lighter and darting his hand behind his back. Sol leans into him to reach for it, and Kent twists until Sol’s momentum tips him over backwards onto the couch, trapping his hand and Sol’s lighter underneath him, and Sol laughs, grateful for the transparent effort at a distraction, and swings his leg across Kent’s hips, happy enough to wrestle if that’s what Kent—

They both feel it at the same time.

The explosion of phantom pain in the whole right hemisphere of Sol’s face punches all the air out of him, his head dropping onto Kent’s chest, and he feels Kent gasp under him, hit with the same force—the pain is sharp, and burning, and not theirs.

Sol can’t move because horror has pulled all his muscles tight and he can’t relax them enough even to lift his head. Kent is equally still underneath him.

“Oh no,” Kent says, his voice all breath.

“Where are they,” Sol whispers, and he feels Kent force in a breath underneath him, hopes to god he’s getting something—Kent can feel shit Sol can’t even tell is there, and—and Pax is the best with directions, goddammit, but Sol will make it work, between the two of them they can—they can—

Kent sits up, pushing Sol off with one hand, gentle because he’s too distracted to use his full strength. His other hand is pressed hard over his right eye.

“They’re—they—fuck,” Kent croaks, holding a fistful of Sol’s hoodie like he needs it to stay upright. “I can’t—I can’t think, Sol, they’re hurt,” Kent says, his voice rising in growing panic.

“Can you tell what’s wrong?” Sol asks him urgently, reaching for Kent’s shoulder to better see his face, and because he knows Kent panics less when you hold him tightly—and Kent’s got the best sense of the three of them, his feelings are more specific. Sol’s is already fading to nothing but a dull ache in his head, he knows it’s physical pain but beyond that it could be anything.

Kent lets Sol turn him, though the eye he isn’t covering is unfocused and he isn’t seeing Sol at all. “It’s bad,” Kent whispers, his voice soft and horrified. “Is this what it was like when you—?”

“Yes,” Sol says immediately, but Kent is staring at him now instead of through him, his eye widening in alarm, and while Sol watches Kent drops the hand he’s had pressed against his face and reaches out toward Sol and—pushes the collar of Sol’s hoodie open, his fingers brushing lightly where their shared mark sits above the collar of his undershirt—the mark they’ve both had since birth, Pax’s mark.

It’s a stylized image of an eye, with a sharp slash down the middle of it.

“Phone,” Kent says, and his eyes dart back up to Sol’s face, all trace of panic gone, replaced with a firm mouth and blazing eyes; Sol’s heart seizes painfully in his chest because it’s a very Pax expression. “Ping their phone. Even if they don’t have it with them it’s a start.” And then he’s on his feet, shrugging into the coat he’s been borrowing from Sol. “I’m gonna start asking the neighbors if one of them will let us use their car.”

“You what?” Sol says, scrambling to his feet. He’s lived in this apartment for three years, during which time he’s cultivated what he considers a very healthy don’t-tell-the-landlord-about-the-extra-people-living-in-my-apartment-and-I-won’t-tell-him-about-the-impenetrable-weed-fog-from-yours-Dave-from-317 relationship. He certainly doesn’t know any of them well enough to say “hey, yeah, sorry, another soulmate bleeding to death, can I borrow your car.”

“They like me. I watch General Hospital with Miriam in 309 when you’re at work. Ping their phone.”

And Kent whirls out of Sol’s apartment like he isn’t hiding from the cops. “What the fuck,” Sol mutters to himself.

Then he sees where the icon for Pax’s phone is. His second “what the fuck” is a lot louder.

----

Pax’s arm is shaking badly from the effort of pressing it against their eye, trying to stop the blood, and it still isn’t working, is still gushing between their fingers and running down their face. They barely feel the second hit, when the knife slides between their ribs, and then they dive for the gun, falling over and sliding in their own blood, and spin around, not trying to get up, and pull the trigger three times.

The dry click of the empty chamber is the loudest sound they’ve ever heard.

The security guard pulled to a stop when they pointed the gun, and now he grins and takes a step closer, so Pax whips the gun end over end at his head as hard as they can, and then they follow it, throwing themself at the arm holding the knife. They gun hits the guard’s forehead, hard, rocking him back, and Pax gets a good (blood-slick) grip on his arm, but they have to take their hand off their eye in the interest of getting ahold of the knife, and now the blood is fairly pouring down their face and hot and sticky down their neck and soaking into the collar of their shirt. The guard’s arm swings behind him with the force of their momentum and when he doesn’t immediately drop the knife they think fuck it and turn their head, open their mouth, and sink their teeth into his bicep, hard. The guard howls and his hand loosens around the knife enough that Pax can wrap their bloody fingers around the handle, they’re pulling it from his hand with a surge of desperate triumph and then the guard makes a fist with his other arm and slams it full force against Pax’s ruined right eye.

Pax screams. (A hundred miles away, Sol almost swerves off the road.)

They don’t lose their hold of the knife, but suddenly they’re on their back and the guard is standing above them, panting, clutching his arm below the shoulder where Pax bit him. His knuckles are dripping with Pax’s blood.

The door of the lab they’ve been fighting over slides open and Vic Michaelis is standing in the doorway. Pax feels the eye they still have well up immediately even though Vic isn’t a fighter, because Vic is a grown up and he’ll know what to do.

Vic looks at them on the floor, looks at the gun--the gun Vic gave them, which was empty, why would--that’s a big mistake to make if he knew there was security here, how could he even have--

“You idiot,” Vic says. “What the fuck is this?” He stomps into the room, headed straight for the guard, who—isn’t attacking. “What part of ‘no serioius damage’ was unclear to you?”

Pax stares up at Vic. Blood is pouring down their face but they can’t move, they are frozen completely solid.

“Oh, fuck you, man,” the guard says, annoyed. “Asshole fucking bit me. You didn’t pay me to catch a fucking weasel.”

This—isn’t happening. It isn’t—they—no. Pax scoots back, away from Vic and the guard, who are now standing next to each other, and not fighting, and both looking down at where they are sprawled on the floor. Vic’s face is—irritated, harried, and nothing deeper than that.

“Ugh,” Vic says, wrinkling his nose down at Pax. “Christ. What a mess.”

Pax stares at Vic. Thinks of his stillness while he listened to them tell him they were leaving and not coming back. Thinks of the way his face went blank before he smiled and told them he was happy. Thinks of the things in his lab, and how Pax decided years ago to pretend they didn’t know, and how they told themselves it was because they loved him, and how really it was because they were afraid.

Vic turns to the guard, maybe to give him instructions. The guard glares at him. Neither of them are looking at Pax, and the blood-covered knife is still in their hand.

There’s a part of them—the part made of wounded pride and hurt feelings, that thinks being known as a gullible child is worse than being dead—that would like to throw themselves at Vic Michaelis, bowl him over, stay until one of them is dead and either way they aren’t stuck as some dumbass easy-to-fuck-over sugar baby, and six months ago when there was nothing to lose except their pride they would have listened.

But they’ve got more to lose, now, and they can’t hurt themselves without also hurting other, better, more important people.

They throw the knife instead.

It spins end over end and buries itself in Vic’s sternum. It’s not a great wound, not lethal or even that inconvenient, probably, but it does buy them enough time to shoot to their feet and sprint for the door of the lab.

With their back turned they don’t know who fires the shot that clips their shoulder on the way out. But they’re pretty sure the guard didn’t have a gun.

In a different world, when Pax Field makes it out of the lab and into the surrounding woods and collapses against a tree to pant and press their hand over their eye and sob, as quietly as they can, sinking to the forest floor and shaking with the force of it, they are utterly, entirely alone. They cry for twenty minutes at the most and then they drag themselves up and stumble four miles to a payphone and call 911. It is the most alone they ever feel in a life characterized, at least at the start, entirely by loneliness.

In this world love is written across their chest and around their wrists in bold colors, and they curl up at the base of the tree and press their forehead into their knees and their hand over their ruined eye and think, as hard and as loud as they can, come find me. Come find me. Come find me.

---

The last thirty miles of the drive upstate hurtle by in tense silence. Sol grips the wheel at perfect ten-and-two with white knuckles; Kent doesn’t have a wheel to grip so he leans forward with his hands against the dashboard instead. The car belongs to Dave from 317, whose soulmark is on the back of his knee, gray as smoke, and who didn’t even wait for Kent to finish his plea before he handed the keys over.

There will be time for Sol to rethink his impressions of his neighbors later, maybe. Like there will be time to wonder what the fuck Pax’s phone is doing at his father’s house. Sometime after they get there and he stops his soulmate from dying, again.

When they’re still more than ten miles away from the house where Sol grew up, where Pax’s fucking sugar daddy apparently lives, which is math Sol is desperately keeping his brain from doing because there will be plenty of time to throw up after Pax isn’t dying, Kent suddenly lurches forward, hand shooting out to grip Sol’s shoulder almost painfully, and yells “Wait!”

Sol slams on the brakes without even consciously deciding to, and stares at Kent, almost panting.

“Turn here,” Kent says, indicating a tiny little turnoff half hidden in overgrown bushes and weeds.

“What?” Sol says, squinting into the darkness. “There’s nothing here, their phone—”

“It’s this way,” Kent says, leaning forward in his seat, eyes fixed on the darkness of that little trail like he can see into it. His hand is still on Sol’s shoulder, though he isn’t squeezing anymore; it seems more like he’s forgotten it’s there.

“Fuck,” Sol says, “fine, okay,” and he turns off the road, and then feels a hot line of pain rip through the top of Pax’s shoulder; the car fishtails badly and he only just manages to hit the brake again before it goes plows into a line of trees.

Sol hunches over the wheel, gasping. Kent’s hand is in a fist on Sol’s shoulder again, holding a handful of Sol’s hoodie like it’s a lifeline.

“Fucking drive,” Kent wails, and Sol wrestles the car back onto the little half-overgrown road and hits the gas hard.

Halfway down the road Kent flaps his hand, hitting Sol’s shoulder repeatedly like a little kid trying to get their parents’ attention. “Stop the car stop the car stop the car—”

And when Sol does Kent throws his door open almost before they’ve come to a stop and throws himself out into the dark woods.

“Fuck!” Sol yells, and stumbles out after him.

The moon is out, and this far from the city the stars are bright on Kent’s hair, and Sol thinks if Kent weren’t blonde he’d have lost him a dozen times over by now. The trees fly by; Kent’s hurtles through them at a dead sprint and Sol has to push himself hard to keep up, with no idea where there going, just trusting that Kent knows, and trusting Pax to hold together till they get there, and trusting himself to be any help at all when they do. Branches scratch at his face and grab at his jeans and his hoodie and he barely feels them at all, all his focus on the uneven ground under his feet and the blonde head bobbing along in front of him.

Kent stops so abruptly that Sol has to grab a passing tree to keep from tumbling right into him, and then he makes a horrible sound—a sharp cry that sounds like it’s been torn out of him—and stumbles forward again, falling to his knees in front of a dark shape that Sol can’t really see in the darkness.

Then the sky clears even more or Sol’s eyes adjust or soul magic intervenes because he can see that the shape is a person with a mess of pink hair, curled up at the base of a tree with their knees drawn up to their chest and their head bowed.

Then they look up and Sol draws back so fast he slips on the muddy ground and lands hard on his ass.

“Shit,” Kent says, his hands hovering over Pax’s blood-matted hair, the gory ruin of the right half of their face, their torn-open shoulder, like he wants to pull them close but is afraid to touch them. Sol scrambles towards them on his hands and knees to see better—their face is the hardest to look away from, the hand pressed over their eye is more red than brown, the blood running in half-dried rivulets down their arm; their black turtleneck is stiff and shiny with it.

Pax looks at them, sees them, incredibly; raises the hand not pressed to their face to grab a fistful of Kent’s shirt, and gurgles, “You came,” in a terrible wet voice.

Kent turns back to Sol, his face set and determined again. “We’ve got to get them to the car.”

Sol stares at him, feeling like a kid, feeling scared stupid. Then he muscles the fear down, swallows it and doesn’t let himself gag, squares his shoulders. “You can’t lift for shit,” he says, scooting closer. “I’ve got them.”

Pax hears him say it, and seems to sigh out all the tension that’s been keeping them upright, and immediately sags sideways; Sol catches them, exchanges a frightened look with Kent, and gathers them in, more carefully than he’s ever done anything. Pax is taller than he is, there’s no non-awkward way to do it, and he ends up lifting them onto his hip like a huge blood-covered baby, their long muscly legs wrapped around his waist, and Pax clings to him tightly, crossing their feet together behind his back and using the hand that isn’t holding their eye in their head to grab onto the back of Sol’s shirt and hold on, two-hundred pounds of dense muscle; and their shoulder-wound is easy to forget about in comparison to their face but Sol can immediately feel blood from it soaking into his hoodie and the adrenaline keeps him going, while Kent clears the way in front of him at a tense jog, warning him of roots he can’t see and sweeping branches out of his way.

They’ll have to pay Dave to get his car cleaned, Sol thinks, when he lowers Pax into the backseat. Kent climbs in with them and Pax leans against him, and then huffs out a shaky breath and climbs over into his lap, burying their face in his shoulder. Kent goes tense as a wire—presumably at the terrifying volume of tacky half-dry blood involved—and then visibly makes himself relax, digs in his pocket and tosses his phone towards where Sol is hovering just outside the car.

“Search for the nearest hospital,” he says tersely, and Sol is halfway through typing it in when Pax’s voice drifts outs, muffled by Kent’s shirt.

“…can’t go… hospital,” they mutter.

Sol stares at them. “You what?” he snaps.

Pax lifts their head to frown at Kent. Their hand is still pressed over their eye; their nose and Kent’s are almost touching. “We fucking. Kidnapped you. They’ll catch you. We can’t go to a hospital.”

Kent stares at Pax, somewhere between horrified and furious. “You—who cares? Pax, you’re fucking bleeding to death!”

Pax frowns. It’s a small car and there really isn’t room for them to sit up while they’re on Kent’s lap; they lean back against the front seatback, their knees braced on either side of Kent’s thighs. “So were you,” they say nonsensically, sounding almost defensive.

Sol can just barely see Kent’s embarrassed flush in the moonlight, and he turns his head away, so he’s not looking at Sol or Pax. “Yeah, and you made me go to the hospital,” he snaps.

Pax plucks at Kent’s shirt, the visible less-bloody half of their face softening, until Kent looks back at them.

“They’ll catch you,” Pax says softly, their visible eye big and sad while the other side of their face is utterly covered in blood.

Kent stares at them, still with that defensive-furious-alarmed look on his face.

“Clinic,” Sol says, almost to himself, and then grabs Kent’s sleeve in one hand and Pax’s in the other so they both turn to look at him, Pax rather unsteadily. “We passed a clinic on the way here.”

Kent’s frown deepens. “A local clinic won’t have the resources for—”

“And in the middle of the night a local clinic’ll have a much smaller staff for us to threaten or bribe if that’s what we have to do,” Sol says, trying to sound absolutely certain. He looks at Pax, who’s breathing hard but now almost smiling at him, and then at Kent, who very much isn’t.

“There’s still three of us,” Sol says to him, and Kent blinks, hard, like he wants to drop his gaze but can’t. “They’re not taking you away from me any more than they’re taking Pax.”

Pax sags sideways, halfway out of the car, until Sol catches them, which was apparently their intention; they bonk their head lightly against his shoulder. “Good. Good boy, Sol. Thanks.”

Sol shakes his head, loving them so much his stomach hurts, and pushes them back upright. “Okay, idiot. Then when we get you sewn back together you can explain why you didn’t tell me you were fucking my dad.”

“What,” says Kent. Pax sighs, and leans forward to hide their face in Kent’s shoulder again.

“Your dad’s an asshole,” they say, which is the opposite of the denial Sol was hoping for.

But there will be time to unpack that horrible mess later. Plenty of time, because none of them are going to die.

Sol climbs into the front seat of the borrowed car and guns the engine. He’s pretty sure he can remember the way back to the clinic whose sign they passed on the way here. And after that he’s pretty sure he can make them save Pax whether they want to or not. That’s about as far into the future as Sol can even try to see. But there’s still three of them, and really he doesn’t need anything more than that.

#soulmate au #cafe extras #whump #original whump #eye horror #betrayal #rescue #polyamorous soulmates #oc: pax #oc: kent #oc: sol #eye trauma tw #gore tw

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stardusttrashed · 5 years

Text

Extra G.D

Summary: Grayson ‘Extra’ Dolan decides to finally tell the fans he’s dating Y/n

Word Count: 2K+

Y/n looked in the mirror, repositioning the strand of hair that didn’t quite want to comply like the others. Her fingers toyed with the strand for what felt like the hundredth time in the past minute. And of course, it still wouldn’t fall in line with the others. Her nerves were getting the best of her despite all of Grayson’s encouraging words from the past week. Every attempt to busy herself to push her mind elsewhere wouldn’t avail the situation.

“It looks perfect princess,” Grayson whispered with a kiss to the shell of her ear- his arms securing their place around her waist. “You look absolutely- .” She hadn’t even noticed him walk up behind her, too engrossed in trying to make sure she looked picture perfect.

“Gorgeous,” Y/n finished his sentence in a defeated voice. “You tell me that everyday Gray. Even when I look like death,” she chuckled dryly. Her eyes shifted to meet his adoring gaze in the mirror.

Grayson laughed quietly, pulling her flush against him, “well I mean it. Every time. You take my breath away every day Y/n. There isn’t a single day that goes by that I don’t think you look like an angel- scratch that, a goddess.” His lips curled up into a smile as he watched her roll her eyes and fight the blushy smile begging to come out. “And that’s exactly why I wanted to do this.”

“Are you sure it’s not just ‘cause your that ‘I invented being extra’ headass boyfriend?” Y/n cut in again, loving the small blush that’d bless his cheeks whenever she’d tease him. She squirmed in his grasp as he squeezed her side while glaring at her playfully- causing an awkward giggle mingled with a squeal to escape her lips. “I’m Grayson Bailey Dolan and regular selfies with my girl are too basic for me,” she continued, dropping her voice a few octaves to mimic his.

“You’re damn right they are. Especially when I plan on finally telling the fans you’re so much more than my friend. So, yes, I will be that extra boyfriend until the day you finally marry me.” He left a trail of kisses up from her shoulder to her neck, his plump lips gliding across her skin from one kiss to the next. “And then I’ll be your extra husband,” he added with a cheeky grin that made his whiskey eyes seem more like honey.

Y/n twisted around in his arms quickly before landing her hand on his chest with a quiet smack. Her embarrassed laughter only made his smile grow wider- the melodious tone filling the bathroom quickly.

“Okay okay! I can go ask E to take the pictures if that makes you feel better.” Grayson rubbed circles into the small of her back as his eyes searched hers for an answer- the way they softened notifying him of her approval before her lips relayed the message.

“As long as he’s not using a phone again,” she smiled as she reached up to cup his stubbly jaw- something she had to spend nearly a week trying to convince him to keep. “ ‘Cause last time we asked half of the pictures were of him.”

“You liked those and you know it,” Ethan cut in, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. “Why am I being brought up again?”

“Gray wants to know if you’ll take pictures for us. He hired a photographer but- .”

“Wait. You were for real about that,” Ethan exclaimed, a dorky smile forming on his lips. “I thought you were joking when you told me about it. Can’t you just post old pictures and let the fans know.” Ethan looked over at Grayson’s deadpanned face, unsure whether his teasing or his suggestion was the cause of it. “Fine, I’ll go change,” Ethan grumbled, “ but only because I like Y/n so much.” He walked off before quickly dipping his head back into the bathroom, interrupting the two leaning in for what he assumed was another round of kisses. “Do I get a matching outfit too?”

Y/n gasped with excitement, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she looked up a Grayson with big pleading eyes. “That’d be super cute! Have us all matching for at least one picture- oh or for next Tuesday’s video!”

“I was totally joking, but now we have to. Are you seeing how excited she is?”

“Yeah Grayson Extra Dolan, please.”

Grayson looked back and forth between his smug brother and childishly excited girlfriend, weighing both possible answers in his mind before nodding reluctantly.

“We could wear the Dolan merch since I’m pretty sure that the only matching outfits we have. Unless you want to just pick a color.”

“Color,” Ethan exclaimed without a second thought. “I can’t have you two lovebirds messin’ up my style.” He ignored Y/n’s blatant eye roll and hushed ‘whatever’.

Y/n looked up at Grayson once again, waiting for his input on the idea. Her fingers lazily toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, gently running her fingers through the short strands. The sudden tension in his shoulders due to Ethan’s harmless poking hadn’t gone unnoticed. His internal struggle between giving in and wanting to stand against him was crystal clear. And she tried every way she could think of to let him know she noticed without outright saying it. Grayson smiled tenderly, appreciating her quiet attempts to soothe him.

Just as Y/n opened her mouth to suggest not going through with all three of them matching Grayson finally spoke up, hooking his fingers with her own. “Red? I like the way my girl looks in red.” He smirked down at Y/n for a moment before looking over at Ethan just in time to catch him rolling his eyes. He puffed his chest up proudly before swooping her up into his arms, guiding her legs to wrap around his waist.

“Hey, leave the sickening cute stuff for later when we take pictures,” Ethan grumbled as he dragged his feet off to his room.

“Trust me we’ve got more than enough.”

Y/n nuzzled her face into his neck- the soft skin of her nose grazing his neck in ways that made it hard for Grayson to do anything other than have a content smile plastered on his face. She nipped on his neck, “You’re wearing your crop top.” Grayson’s chest rumbled with laughter at her quiet demanding voice.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. I like it a lot,” she hummed. He could feel her lips curling into a smile and he absolutely adored it.

***

Ethan chuckled quietly to himself, completely drowned out by Y/n and Grayson belching lyrics at each other. When he agreed to take photos of them he figured Gray would drive. But no. Instead, Grayson had his limbs entangled with Y/n’s while they sat in the back like Ethan was a chauffeur. He sighed as he slowed to a stop in traffic. Suddenly it hit him. The best addition to Grayson’s post, at least for the two obnoxious lovebirds. Anytime he couldn’t take pictures he’d record them- making a mental note to edit it later. He fumbled around in the bag sitting in the passenger seat before pulling out the camcorder and setting it on the dashboard. He quickly adjusted the small device until it was focused on the pair.

***

The burning sand dipped under their weight as Ethan searched for the ‘Goldilocks’ part of the beach as he kept referring to it. Groups of people thinned out to one or two people strolling aimlessly- the blazing sun only energizing their smiles.

“This is it,” Y/n whispered to Grayson with a quiet chuckle. She slipped her hand under his shirt, resting on the small of his back- her small thumbs in comparison rubbing circles into his warm skin. “Ethan’s finally going to leave us in the middle of nowhere so he can have some peace and quiet back home.”

Grayson let out a throaty chuckle at her comment and shook his head. As much as he and his brother loved each other her playful comment seemed completely probable. Between him and Y/n being practically linked at the hip and the way he’d have her laughing or moaning endlessly every chance he could just because the noises she makes were pieces of heaven. It wasn’t hard to see how Ethan could get annoyed to the point of ditching them.

Ethan stopped in his tracks, breaking Grayson’s train of thought with a proud smile. “Alright lovebirds, how about here?”

Y/n took in the secluded area- the clear sound of crashing waves mingling with Tame Impala streaming from the speaker in Ethan’s backpack. Scattered rocks and boulders a short distance away led to a towering cliff. The same cliff Grayson had finally convinced her to jump from on their third date. The low sun left the area in a picturesque glow, creating halos around each thing the light graced.

Y/n looked up at Grayson, biting back her gracious smile before turning back to Ethan. She nodded her head eagerly, “it’s perfect E. Right bub?”

“Maybe I should’ve just asked you in the first place,” Grayson chuckled as he finally let go of Y/n- still keeping her within arms distance.

“What can I say I’m pretty great.” Ethan flipped his imaginary hair over his shoulder with an eye roll. “Now say, cheese dorks,” he instructed as he pulled his phone out- circling around the pair as he searched for the best angle.

Y/n stepped further away from Grayson, copying his casual pose- resting her weight on one hip and stuffing her hand in the opposite pocket. It was hard for her to keep a straight cool face, his playful glare melting her where she stood.

She let out a quiet squeak as Grayson stuffed his hand in her back pocket furthest from him. Effortlessly he curled his arm, sending her tumbling back into his hold. “Is that how we’re playing tonight?” His gruff voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper- his soft growl making his words seem louder than in reality.

“What a girl can’t pose for a picture,” Y/n teased with a knowing smirk. She smoothed over the wrinkled fabric over his chest before resting right above his heartbeat. Despite the relaxing setting Grayson’s heart was hammering in his chest. Pounding against her hand in a rhythm that matched her own heart. “Everything okay bub?”

“Just soaking in my princess’s otherworldliness.” He craned his neck down until his lips met with her forehead. “I love you to bits.” Using his free hand he lifted her unto the tip of her toes so their nose would touch. He rubbed his own against the tip of her nose, laughing at the adorable way her’s would scrunch up.

“Stop,” Y/n whined in a giggle. She was hoping Ethan would chalk this all up to them being extra for the pictures. The last thing she wanted was to give him more fuel to his teasing.

“Not until you say it back,” Grayson breathed against her lips. He kissed her tenderly, lengthening the kiss with each word. “Say. it.” She shook her head defiantly, attempting to ignore the way his kiss left her legs weak. “Y/n,” he whined as he scooped her into his arms.

Y/n rolled her eyes at the small pout Grayson gave her. “Really Bailey?” She searched his whiskey eyes, hoping for him to budge, before letting out a sigh. “I love you too,” Y/n grumbled as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She cupped his cheek, his stubble tickling her palms. “I love you tons. You’re my best friend and the best boyfriend I could ever ask for. And most of all,” she paused for dramatic effect- taking the time to plant a kiss on his lips. “You’re a pain in my ass. E can we take group pictures now?” Her body stiffened for a second as Grayson sneakily squeezed her butt once again, huffing in disappointment. “We still have a few more hours of good light plus I’d love to get my best friend in here.” Y/n hopped down from Grayson’s grasp as she tried to convince Ethan. He maintained his uncertain gaze. Or maybe it was just him trying to say he didn’t want to do it anymore.

“Fine,” he caved, breaking into a smile. He couldn’t bring himself to turn down the girl childishly poking his side and tugging on his shirt. “Only if you pick me up,” he joked as he set up the camera stand.

“It’d be my honor.”

***

Taking pictures together was a total blast. Y/n and Grayson were determined to prevent Ethan from feeling like a third wheel the entire time the three of them goofed off in front of the camera. Which unsurprisingly resulted in an amplification of jokes and teasing. It was like any time they’d invite Y/n to be in one of the videos- with more dorky poses thrown in just because. So much so that it wasn’t until the sun had completely disappeared that they decided to pack up the cameras. Calling an end to the little makeshift photo shoot. And even then their laughter echoed through the beach, rivaling the sound of the more aggressive waves.

Y/n stifled a yawn, dragging her now bare feet through the still warm sand. “Thanks, Bub for making me go through with this.” The cropped top hanging on Grayson made it easy for her to tiredly wrap her arms around his waist- relishing in the warmth. “And thanks E for dealing with us- today and every day. You’re the best,” she mumbled the last few words as the Jeep came into view. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her at the sight of Ethan’s Jeep waiting for them.

“What can I say, as annoying as you are together you’ve grown on me.” Ethan turned around in time to catch Grayson plant a lingering kiss on the crown of her head. He couldn’t deny the happiness that radiated off of Grayson whenever she was around. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t bring himself to truly complain other than when they interfered with his sleep. It was clear Grayson was utterly smitten by her and most days the only time he’d get to show that side was at home. He didn’t blame Grayson for trying to keep his relationship with her hidden for so long- there were so many things that could go wrong. But there was only so much hiding one person could do.

“Hey bro,” Grayson called out quietly once they finished loading everything into the car including a half-awake Y/n. “Thank you. I really owe you.”

Ethan shrugged as they both climbed into the Jeep- the little sliver of the sun providing just enough light for them to clearly see each other still. “Just keep it quiet for at least two weeks and we’ll call it even.” He looked over at Grayson’s shocked and displeased face. “Fine one week, and a heads up. As much as you like hearing her moan that’s not- .”

“Deal.” Grayson chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her, allowing her to snuggle into his side as sleep her eyes fluttered sleepily. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep with her cheek pressed to his chest and an arm slung over him. “She’s gonna hate me for this,” he thought aloud as he pulled his phone out. As stealthily as possible, he opened Snapchat and angled the camera towards her, capturing her content expression. He looked over the photo, unable to resist the urge to swoon over her. His thumbs moved across the screen, typing out ‘best feeling in the world’ followed by multiple hearts as fast as he could before posting it onto his story.

“I swear if you really just posted any kind of hint that you two are dating I’m going to kill you,” Ethan warned. “You could’ve done that earlier without dragging me out here. Or had me post a video of you two.”

“True, but now I can also say we have cheesy couple pics that we can post. Plus I could never have too many pictures of her.”

“Okay Grayson Extra Dolan, but now you definitely owe me two weeks.”

“A week and a half tops. That’s all you’re getting. And I can’t promise those noises won’t be replaced with her laughter.”

“I can handle that.”

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