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mindcrackloveLight Alive. I am so sorry, cats, kittens, and Saladiers. The intention was for this chapter to be posted about ... *looks at watch* about 10 days ago. IRL RNG bit me in the posterior pretty danged hard and I was out for a solid two weeks with pneumonia. (Imagine, getting pneumonia in early spring. Ew.) Getting better now, thanks, but that's beside the point.
The point is that we've left you happy lot hanging two weeks too long.
Perhaps getting hit with a nasty fever-flu was a blessing in disguise, as this chapter went through a whopping five and a half drafts before we were happy with it. The downtime was certainly needed to give this little season finale some proper spit and polish.
And yes, this is a season finale. Story is far from over folks. :3
Let us know what you think of the season as a whole and how the story is moving so far. We really enjoy the feedback we get from you guys and it makes us look forward to writing the next episodes.
Now the housekeeping: as a refresher for long-time followers of the series and a reference for those who are new, "UHC: Foundation" is a long-running series set in the expansive 'Severance' alternate universe and follows the fates of that universe's incarnations of the Minecrafters we've come to love and respect. As per protocol, for further information and reading, refer to the World Dossier (here) and the compiled story/serial document (here; alternatively, one can follow the story through here.)
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Into Our Own Hands
Flickers and flames. That is the essence of mortal life.
Souls like candlelights, exposed to the night’s breath. Hundreds, upon thousands, upon millions. Where they gather, the dark is illuminated. The cold flees from their warmth. What they touch is changed irrevocably or consumed entirely.
Yet they are brief. Delicate. It does not take much to steal the breath of E’aw from these vessels of earth and blood. All it takes is an errant huff in one candle’s direction, and the flame flits into memory … or oblivion.
Thirteen flickers. Candles forcibly wrested from the safety of the mother flame, their existences tenuous while the cold around them begins to coalesce and become a tangible thing.
And they are all that is keeping the rest of the fire lit and warm. The final redoubt keeping the devouring cold at bay. They do not know their true role in this dance of ice and fire.
If they knew, they would have refused the burden.
If they knew, they would be aware of how deep the magic flows and the pieces set in place long before they arrived in their roles.
But they do not. Their ignorance is a necessary curse, for their decisions will shape the course that their people will take in this age.
One does not snuff out one flame and hope that the others do not notice. The other flickers will react. The sparks will be whipped into a blaze. Will the frenzy be turned against the coming cold? Or will the flames devour themselves?
We do not know. It is not our duty to know. It is our duty to watch and observe and guide.
… and so, for now, we watch.
… and we wait.
~||~
==Mindcrack Territory; Game Time Elapsed: 100 minutes==
With a flick of his wrist, Baj switched off the viewing screen. The motion was simple; still it reeked and re-echoed of the towering frustration that the tall, burly Englishman only barely kept in check—partly to uphold his demeanour for the sake of his fellow war brothers, partly to maintain his appearance for the sake of one rogue element that the colonel dearly wished were anywhere but here … but the capricious engineer was now the only option left to the Mindcrack Protectorate.
Hands crossed behind the small of his back, Baj stalked with military precision back to his chair and eased himself into the seat. He could very well have marched circuit upon circuit around the room, but that was a poor use of stamina at present.
Instead, he cast his hard, stoic gaze around the set of now moderately organized tables, arranged in a mildly haphazard angular ‘U’ shape, and the other eight men gathered, seated and standing along the situation room’s length and breadth.
Most of them were disgusted or confounded, or both. A select few were visibly disheartened, even contemplative. One was distinctly lackadaisical, as if though he knew all along that this was going to happen. All were silent.
In the fewest of words, this was the lowest they had felt over the course of the past twelve hours.
Before the end of the second watch of the night prior, the Mindcrack Protectorate’s best warriors had been stolen away to parts unknown. Their fates had not been fully known until several hours later, when a sudden, invasive broadcast across every colony and settlement in Minecraftia brought these recent events to a new and terrifying light.
Thirteen of the finest soldiers of the Vanali Protectorate Federation, the toughest and most grizzled veterans of the legendary Severance Wars, were to be forced to fight to the death in a grand gladiatorial game, televised live across Earth and Minecraftia alike—all in the name of a fallen corporation’s sick and twisted idea of fanning the dwindling warfare economics and simultaneously canning the re-emergent embers of conflict between the two main colonial powers that called this mystical, endless world their home.
Whoever thought that kind of logic actually worked was truly a case for the brain-shrunk.
They had no idea where their men were. All they were fed through the infernal sectionalized broadcast, already well into its first several days of compressed game time, were select morsels of the adversities and misfortunes visited upon the involuntary gladiators. For all they knew, their warriors might well be on a different planet.
It was only the fleeting hope that they could still get them out of that pre-arranged hellhole that kept their spirits afloat in a sea of uncertainty and despair. That they might still save their comrades before pointless blood was needlessly spilled.
Baj’s gaze continued to sweep the room. It also continued to glaze past one individual in particular; one smartly-dressed fellow in a lazily buttoned tux, sporting a pair of engineer’s goggles and juggling a silver cigarette lighter as if they all had all the time in the world.
The colonel had to forcibly stomp down on the surge of ignominy that constantly threatened to overcome his already thin composure. It was with a modicum of effort that he finally fixed his eyes on the man solely responsible for providing the lion’s share of what crucial information they now had about this thrice-damned game, its machinators and their motives. It now remained to whittle down a feasible course of action.
Their most immediate options had already been thoroughly reduced to splinters.
First the SBK Foundation. The most powerful neutral corporation of top-end scientists and researchers, once known across two worlds for their benign nature and open-minded approach to politics. Now revealed—to the Mindcrack Protectorate, at least—as the true masterminds behind the ghastly spectacle being visited upon every public channel of communication and transmission.
A revelation that they owed in spectacular fashion to that insufferably smug engineer who had more or less waltzed into their situation room at the top of the hour.
And now they all sat, stood and stewed in the second greatest letdown throughout this horrid farce.
They had been in audience with the Secretary General and the heads of the General Assembly for the past hour with Mhykol as their proxy in an effort to bring the Foundation’s involvement to light in the only organization more powerful than the SBK themselves—the UN. If they could get the UN’s assistance in confronting the Foundation, they would have a more than sufficiently larger stick to bring the wayward corporation to justice.
Right now in this unfathomable circus, however, not even that could be that easy.
They had made contact with Mhykol first, to appraise him of their (extremely sensitive) information and prepare him for the highly likely verbal battle ahead. Mhykol had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the necessarily short semi-private debriefing; his one, simple retort had been: “Buckle your pants.”
He wasn’t kidding.
She had been there. She had been right there, right alongside the Assembly itself, barely making an appearance, speaking up only when the Secretary General addressed her directly, but always with an impeccable authority as if she owned the allegiance of every man in the room.
~||~
==UN Headquarters, Novis City, Contested Territory; Game Time Elapsed: 70 minutes==
The heels clicked in a swift, demure rhythm against the floor, their echoes marching ahead through the imposing corridor through the UN headquarters. They never paused, never hesitated, fully bent on their destination and the knowledge of everything that lay at stake.
She enjoyed the sound. It reminded her of her own determination, her own implacable will to rise above the neglect of her once-mentors and would-be-peers to prove them all how wrong they had been to let her slide to the wayside, over and over again.
She also enjoyed the literal elevation that the heels offered her stature … though this was something she preferred to keep strictly private.
A lot was going to hinge on this meeting. She knew that they were hot on her trail. That infernal Vice President of Research and Development from her own board of directors had given her the slip … obnoxiously smoothly, at that. It was only a matter of time before the catty man would make contact with the one group of colonists that currently had the most immediate concern to dismantle her entire operation … as disgracingly as they possibly could.
Just like all the others.
No. Never again. She wouldn’t let it happen.
And to that end, she was going to make sure that whatever accusations might be waiting in the sidelines would be squashed the moment they stuck out their pitiful little noses.
The towering double doors swung open on cue, resplendent in the massive UN logo emblazoned in brilliant enamel upon their polished surfaces. She never let their gargantuan height faze her for one moment as she strode through them resolutely.
She knew that stature could be accomplished in more meanings than the literal.
… and authority could be commanded in more ways than one.
The Secretary General rose to meet her, extending his hand with a relieved smile. “Dr. Diana Isis of the SBK Foundation. So glad you could make it.” He inclined his head graciously as they shook hands.
“I’m glad I could be here on such short notice, sir,” she replied, inclining her own head precisely as much as the man before her. “It is in the Foundation’s full interest that any unfortunate consequences of these recent events are quenched before they cause greater damage than any of us can contain.”
It was almost too easy. Each diplomatic phrase rolled off her tongue as naturally as if she had been doing this her whole life—for all she cared, that was what she had been doing her whole life. Mapping out every angle of approach, every direction of argument, so that she could one day finally turn the system around into her favor—not that of these self-righteous, pompous politicians, so steeped in their privilege that they couldn’t see true potential if it stomped them in the face.
And in turn, she had learned to see the potential in others … not greatness, oh no, but the potential of men blinded by their own aggrandizement, seeking to undo her hard work.
Each of the assembled delegates greeted her in turn, each of them little more than a pawn in the greater game she was playing … all of them except one.
The Minecraftian. The Vanalian known by many names and many titles, but she already knew the one he only used in private, alongside his fellow “brothers”. Mhykol.
He kept his face level, but she caught the split-second glint in his eyes. That green-goggled weasel was fast. No matter. She knew him well enough to know what kind of angle he had undoubtedly been feeding to those witless rubes and their ‘ambassador’, and she would counter every last one of the roadblocks that would undoubtedly be thrown in her way.
There was a slight lull as the dignitaries took their seats. It didn’t escape her how Mhykol appeared to have a brief conversation in private through his cell phone. She controlled her own features with the utmost precision. If they were going to play hardball, then so was she.
~||~
==Mindcrack Territory; Game Time Elapsed: 100 minutes==
That is a bold accusation.
Did it not occur to you that perhaps others were affected in a similar fashion? We are missing many of our brightest as well.
The obstinacy displayed had been far more comparable to dogmatic fundamentalists than the legendary array of master diplomats and ambassadors that the UN had been praised and prized for through several of the most harrowing conflicts seen on Earth and Minecraftia alike. The Mindcrack representatives had watched and listened in eight parts dumbfounded disbelief and one part laid-back complacency how the General Assembly had dug itself miles deep into a spiralling argumentation regarding the UN’s own involvement, with the most asinine levels of consequence analysis imaginable. Someone might as well have opened a can of neural gas into the room.
All of this is circumstantial evidence.
Why us? Did you not look within your own faction, Colonel? The last time we had a political upheaval this large was when two factions fissioned away to become their own nations. Surely you remember the Yogscorps? It could be entirely possible that another revolution might have been the impetus for all our sufferings now.
They had been entirely rebutted. Painted as the agitators and aggressors, narrowly avoiding the UN’s implacable wrath by Mhykol’s expert dialogue, defusing their claims against the SBK as gently as he could manage.
That man is not a reliable source of information. He was … relieved of his duties several months ago.
It stung. Deeply. As much as Mhykol had assuaged them, outright apologized over his phone for some of his wordings, the knowledge that not even the UN believed them in their direst hour stung worse than a bellyflop into a cave spider den.
This is exactly the reason why we are here today, gentlemen. To keep this kind of fingerpointing to a minimum. What consequences will there be if all we do is bicker pointlessly among each other?
Baj’s glare—for it was an outright glare, and had been for some time now—never left the man that had finally caught his full attention. The silvery lighter continued to dance between the engineer’s fingers, casually as ever.
“So do you want me to say it yet, Baj?”
The meaningful lilt was more than enough to make the colonel’s neck hair stand on end with fury. He merely ground his teeth in reply—audibly.
Vechs flipped the lighter open, but he didn’t speak further. He stared into the tiny flame for a moment with a strange contemplative air, then sighed dismissively and flicked the contraption shut with a click.
“You were all wasting your time. All of you. The bureaucrats can’t help. You saw it; she’s got them all wrapped around her pinky finger and dancing to her tune.”
A chair clattered to the floor, eliciting a startled yelp from a cowering Wolfie.
“Fer fsk’s sake, we cannae jes’ sit here an’ do nothin’!!” Pyrao shouted as he slammed his fists on his table in a visible effort to keep from marching back and forth in a glorious tantrum.
Baj gave the young Irishman a mildly reprimanding look, one that did not fail to carry equal amounts of sympathy. Generik stole a glance at Pungence; the young Assyrian remained unreadable within his power armor carapace, but the Hermitage leader could see the supersoldier’s hands clench into fists while his shoulders shook momentarily.
“We’re stuck the way we are,” Nebris chimed in, his voice low but his eyes blazing with a dark purple glow.
Wolfie’s panicked barks quietened to a pitiful whine beneath Millbee’s calm hands. The shepherd looked up at the gathered warriors. “It’s fhe Unforgotten all over again …”
That one line sobered them all. Silence fell once more, thick and empty at the same time as each man recalled the calamitous chain of events that had led to the loss of so many powerful Vanalian soldiers …
“I find it highly amusing how it’s the former thief in this cheery little boy’s club that’s actually coming within a stone’s throw to the one option you have left right now.”
The record scratch was palpable. Eight pairs of eyes locked onto Vechs.
“An’ whot kinda fsking brilliant idea are ye gonna throw at us next, ya fsking bastard?!” Pyrao spat at the top of his voice, about ready to lunge at the supremely smirking engineer in their midst.
Vechs merely aimed a finger at Nebris, who shifted slightly in his seat. “He’s the one that said it. Not me.”
“Wha—?” Pyrao spun in an about-face, now staring incredulously at the black-clad warrior. He wasn’t the only one.
Nebris furrowed his brow, clearly about to argue against the sudden shift in attention, when he paused, blinked once, and then exhaled with a very faint, very lopsided smirk. “We’re stuck the way we are now …”
Vechs sighed theatrically and leaned back in his chair until it creaked, beginning to juggle his lighter once again. “I should be visiting you guys more often. Y’all are clearly losing your edge.”
Nebris simply looked up and around, still with that barely perceivable smirk on his lips. “… looks like the only way our brothers are gonna get out of there alive, is us taking this into our own hands.”
Baj stared back at the reformed rogue with unyielding eyes. “I know what you’re going to suggest, and I do not like it, Nebris.”
“We’ve got their lives on the line here,” Jsano agreed, running a restless hand through his sandy, ash-stained hair. “The moment the SBK finds out what we’re doing, our guys are toast.”
“If we even get that far before the UN itself shuts us down,” Baj growled, shoving his chair back and standing up to pace the room.
“Damned if we do, damned if we don’t,” Paul Soares muttered on cue.
“Guaranteed damned if we don’t, possibly damned if we do,” Nebris suddenly shot back, standing as well and matching the burly colonel’s circuit around the tables. “There’s a reason why they singled us out for this crazy game. One very good reason.” The black-suited warrior suddenly stopped opposite Baj and flashed an opportunistic grin. “Because we’re just that fsking scary.”
Silence fell again; this time pensive, anticipating. Even Baj stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes with what seemed to be equal parts doubt and renewed consideration.
There was a swell of pride in Nebris’s voice as he turned back to the assembled warriors. “We’re the Mindcrackers. We think outside the box.” A pause and a shrug. “Or at least we used to.” At this, Nebris graced a now very attentive Vechs with a glance. “Might as well take the chance to kick the rust outta the gears now that we have the opportunity right in front of us.”
“We can intercept their transmissions now.” This came from Pungence, who had turned his helmeted visage towards Vechs. “We can figure out a way into their headquarters.”
Vechs put up his palms, grinning. “Whoah now, easy on the assumptions. You don’t even know what I actually have to offer.”
“What if they already have a plan?” Jsano protested. “We might very well end up sabotaging their own efforts!”
“Adjusting on the fly, Jeff,” Nebris countered effortlessly with a renewed little smirk. “Wasn’t that another one of our group’s trademarks?” The black-clad warrior next glanced over at the Assyrian, who turned to him in turn. “Even if we can’t break our brothers out directly … we can get them the intel they need to save themselves.”
This time, the shift in Pungence’s shoulders was visible to every man present, not just the Hermit. If hope could be etched onto a man’s armor, it may as well have been emblazoned in bright neon orange on the supersoldier’s camo-mottled olive-drab green.
The grizzled firefighter was still not convinced. “It’s going to be dangerous.”
“When was anythin’ we did not dang’rous?” Generik quipped in a flippant tone. The veteran guard captain gave the Hermitage leader a sore look.
Baj inhaled through his nose and breathed out, hard. “One shot at our final redemption.”
“Every possible manner of odds stacked against us,” Shree added almost too casually.
“And the worst possible friendly enemy to help us see the whole thing through,” Paul Soares interjected crossly. Vechs merely smiled brilliantly in return.
“Sounds like this little party was right up your alley this whole time,” the incorrigible engineer quipped in a sing-song tone, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead. “Ball’s in your court now, guys …” He leaned rakishly back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “Let’s see what you’re gonna to do with it.”
~||~
==UN Headquarters, Novis City, Contested Territory; Game Time Elapsed: 100 minutes==
The demure clicking of heels now carried a new rhythm as they carried their mistress through the hallowed halls of the representation Earth’s influence over this world. This was a rhythm of contentment. Of triumph.
What had happened within the court of the Grand Assembly was a battle, nothing more, nothing less; a hard fought battle, and a necessary one. A battle she had won with ease.
If she truly cared one iota, she would have felt the stunned and incensed gazes of the portraits of past Secretary Generals and Heads of Assembly as she passed by, as if though the spirits of the past were wholly aware of her machinations. She only sneered in silent response; if they truly knew, they would also know there would be nothing getting in her way.
Like a house of cards against a stiff wind, her Mindcracker opposition had crumbled and the Grand Assembly had been swayed to her tune. She had turned away the fires and flames of brazen accusation, watching the case so hastily cast against her and the SBK Foundation fold like rice paper.
How dare they? Implying … no, insinuating that the SBK Foundation—her pride and joy—was responsible for kidnapping the finest warriors this world had to offer and amassing an army behind everyone’s backs? Responsible for destabilizing and shaking the Minecraftian colonies to their cores and disturbing the careful balance of power Earth strove to maintain? After all the Foundation had done to establish humanity here in this infinite frontier and caring for them through their darkest era? Preposterous! … how dare they, indeed.
Ungrateful cretins, all of them. She was doing the world—nay, two worlds—a favor.
She shifted the ledger in her hand comfortably into the crook of her elbow as she picked up the pace of her stride, the air shifting and shimmering around her as the mahogany moulding and marble flooring of her current surroundings melted into sterile stainless steel, polished concrete, and laminated urethane-glass.
==SBK Foundation Headquarters, Contested Territory; Game Time Elapsed: 103 minutes==
Teleportation. Easy as breathing. Easy as folding the minds of mortal men into paper cranes.
She kept walking, her stride never breaking, her pace never slowing. Time was of the essence, after all. Again she shifted the position of her ledger, invisible tendrils of pure force rearranging the ledger’s pen in its strap in one deft movement.
The shadows in between each halogen beam lighting the sterile halls shimmered as she walked past, seemingly keeping pace with her indomitable progress. The darkness swelled into a faint outline of another figure, sweeping in and out of the evenly spaced, haunting light … at first glance, an onlooker would have sworn that this figure was transparent, like a ghost. A tall, slender ghost, any distinguishing features washed out in the flickering darkness—save for a pair of flickering, purple orbs that could only be interpreted as the gestalt’s eyes.
The ghostly figure detached itself from the wall so gradually that it might as well have appeared out of thin air, tall strides gradually matching pace with the demure woman and her commanding presence. For several heartbeats, only silence was shared between the two, the only sound that of the woman’s heels against the concrete floor.
Finally, the tall shadow spoke; the voice low, modulated, and distinctly masculine. “Welcome home, Diana.”
There was no suppressing the slight yet very self-satisfied grin growing on her delicate asian features. “It is good to be back.”
The crisp lines of a coal-black business suit settled into view around the ghost, and ephemeral hands lifted to straighten the transparent presence of a violet tie. “I take it from your pleased demeanour that your appointment with the UN went well?”
The smirk on Diana’s face didn’t waver. “You would know if it didn’t, love.”
“Heh.” A beat of silence. “… perhaps one needn’t have been so forceful.”
Diana gave her shadowed companion a raised eyebrow. “Oh?”
“The battle was won from the start,” the ghostly presence replied, still staring ahead with a shadowed visage and never breaking his stride. With the same metered precision, he straightened his cuffs and resecured the onyx cufflinks pinning the sleeves in place. “Perhaps the power you displayed today wasn’t necessary.”
The smirk on Diana’s face hardened into one of incensed resolution. “It is always necessary, love.” She shot her companion a glare. “In this age, for their own collective good, people need to know their place.”
One could almost feel a low, indignant, borderline draconic rumble arise from deep within the chest of the ghost. The comparably minute woman never showed an ounce of intimidation.
Silence fell between them as they rounded a corner, their pace still matched.
Finally, the shadow of a man broke the quiet.
“Remind me again why we are doing this.” It was only barely a question.
Diana was almost caught off guard by the candidness of her companion’s query. She shot him a strange glance. “… of all people, you’re the last one I would expect to ask that, love.”
Two purple orbs flickered in the dark. “I’m not asking for me, Diana.”
The woman remained resolute. “For the greater good.”
Silence. The implied lines of unspoken conversation hung in the air as they continued walking down the now ruler-straight, sterile corridor.
This time, it was Diana’s turn to chase away the stubborn absence of sound.
“Don’t think that I don’t ask myself that question every day, love,” she confessed in a quiet voice. “I still hear the cries. I still see the horrified faces. I still feel the disapproval and rejection. I wonder if it will be worth it all … that I am not simply beating a path to the very gates of hell.” Her resolve hardened once again. “Then I remind myself why I chose this path.”
She glanced up at the glimmering orbs of dark purple light that were the eyes of her companion, a new softness entering her gaze. “You’re not mad at me, are you, love?”
The shadowy figure’s stance of indignance and doubt eased into acceptance and submission. “How could I be, Diana? … I owe you my life.” A pair of ethereal, suede-wrapped hands clasped together elegantly at the small of the shadow’s back, and his posture straightened into something not entirely unlike pride. “I know why you are doing this … why I chose to do this with you.”
The petite woman rested a hand on her ethereal companion’s sleeved forearm—for a moment, it seemed as if his intangible form became rooted a little more fully in reality through the physicality, however tenuous, of their connection. “Don’t think I have not been aware of your misgivings, love … they are mine as well.” She pulled her hand away to shift the position of her ledger in her arms again, and punctuated her next statement with another glance at her companion’s shrouded contenance. “And I value your counsel above all others. I could not have navigated this path without you.”
A shared smirk.
“So it seems we are both doomed to walk this path, then.” It wasn’t a question.
“I wouldn’t use such fatalist language,” Diana chided her companion with a grin before setting her face back into a mask of steely resolution. “But yes. We are to stay the course.” Their pace remained consistent, their strides remained unbroken. “This world is too far gone, love. For the greater good, we had to take matters into our own hands. Whatever the cost may be, we are committed to seeing this madness through to the end, and setting what this world has done wrong right and proper.”
For a moment, Diana’s eyes glittered with a fire that perhaps even she had forgotten; lights that were separate from the undulating reflection of the halogen beams that interspersed the Foundation’s corridors. In the next few footfalls, the ghostly apparition of her companion disintegrated into the muted darkness in between the lights that now both granted illumination and shared in Diana’s inner flame.
“In that meeting, we put the final pieces in place,” she spoke—to her companion, to herself, to the living world around her. ”Everything is in motion. Nothing is going to stop this storm we have wrought.”
Her voice lowered to a breathy whisper.
“… not even me.”
~||~
(Author's Note)
Finally. Season 1, check and done. The A-Team and I hope you happy lot enjoyed.
Hopefully, you guys needn't wait long for Season 2. Until then, though, here's a little sneak peek:
>
“What do I know? … more than they’re willing to admit.”
“We’ve been expecting you.”
“… there are always bigger dragons.”
“Who’s useless now, huh!?”
“I … I couldn’t stop … he wouldn’t stop … oh god. Oh GOD.”
“I’m sorry … for what I have to do.”
“How dare you. How. Dare. YOU.”
“… why do you always gotta be the hero?”
UHC: Foundation
Season 2 -- “GAME”
Coming Summer 2014
*smiles from the shadows*
...
=====
Author's Box (FAQ):
"What is the Severance Universe?" -- The Severance Universe is the setting for the 'UHC: Foundation' serial. Read all the previous chaptersodes here or here and read more info and lore click here.
Severance Universe One Shots:
SUOS 001 - Hat
SUOS 002 - Descent and Denial
SUOS 003 - Into This World
SUOS 004 - Hostility
We do more than just the SevU. Here are other stories for you happy lot to check out!
Saladcrack :: Kiddycrack Ficsnips
Burning the Phoenix (Ch 1)
(TBA)
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Date: Thursday, April 17th, 2014 08:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Friday, April 18th, 2014 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Friday, April 18th, 2014 03:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Friday, August 15th, 2014 03:38 am (UTC)Altverse makes me squee whenever I read it. Thero's Bribery AU makes me cry at the end. Severance AU makes me feel; laughter, pain, tears, anger, everything. This story has made me wipe tears from my eyes, made me light headed from giggling, made me clutch my heart at "dem feels", made me reread that paragraph because "did that really happen?", made me stay up late at night and, probably most importantly, has made me question myself why I ever stopped reading this.
I'm expecting great things from Season 2 and I know great things will be written by you and your team.