#;; THIS BROTHER SHE'S FELT SO DEEPLY CONNECTED TO HER ENTIRE LIFE WHO DIED BEFORE SHE WAS EVEN GIVEN LIFE

[kaerinio]

once again thinking about how rhaegar is known as "the silver prince" and dany is referred to as "the silver lady". once again thinking about how rhaegar talks directly to dany in the house of the undying, telling her that there must be three before she even receives an official prophecy from the undying ones. once again thinking about how dany dreams that she's rhaegar fighting the cold undead. once again thinking about how dany tells herself that she must cross the trident before conquering astapor. once again thinking about how it is rhaegal she takes with her when she's going to diplomatic talks in qarth. once again thinking about how others compare her to rhaegar.

[sunchasingstar]

31 October 1979

Cliffs of Moher,

Ireland

Regulus didn’t pride himself in being brave. He knew he lacked the trait that his brother seemed to embody. He never took risks, that was more Sirius’ thing. He didn’t do risks. Except one.

James Potter had taken him by surprise, running into him with the force of the sun. James had been the light he needed in his darkness, James showed him something he’d be willing to die for. To save James, to make the war end so that James could have a chance at a happier ending than what Regulus would be able to offer him because to Regulus, James was the Sun. Without James, Sirius would have died in that house and Regulus would have let it happen. There isn’t anything in the world that Regulus could do to pay James back for that.

James makes Regulus want to be brave. So, when Kreacher had come back on the verge of death, Regulus thought of James and what James would do. He bundled the sun powered bravery and began working on his research. Horcruxes are strong magic, but Regulus was raised with the strongest dark magic known in Wizarding Britain and Voldemort was raised in a muggle orphanage. Tom Riddle would meet his end, even if Regulus had to perish first and that was the thought that pushed Regulus towards the cave.

Perhaps he should have thought it through more. Perhaps he didn’t take in to account that another person would’ve been better because of the potion. Perhaps Regulus had never planned to make it out in the first place. He didn’t plan for the inferni. All he could think about as spindly cold hands dragged him to the bottom was the Sun, he’d die for the Sun.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Britain, James Potter felt a star go out and he struggles to feel whole again. Months later, when the paper announces the news, it’ll make sense.

31 October 1981

Godric’s Hollow,

Britain

James Potter prided himself in his love. He loved to love, anyone that knew him could tell you that. He was surrounded by love for his entire life and had grown up with the most caring parents and he couldn’t have asked for better. James had only ever known love to hurt him a small handful of times. The first was when Lily Evans rejected him, as he had never known rejection like that at twelve years old, and his younger self had been devastated. The second was in his fifth year when Sirius told Snape how to get into the Shack on a full moon. This one left the physical scar to show how deeply Sirius had hurt not only James, but Remus too, who could never look at James when he didn’t have a shirt on anymore.

The third heartbreak had been the worst. It had been the one to make James’ unwavering love shake and want to turn in on itself. Regulus Black had consumed James’ love and declared it his own. Regulus had been a surprising addition to his life, but one he would never change. See, James never stopped loving Regulus, not really. Not even when Regulus had been forced to join the death eaters, not even when he broke James’ heart and left him in their spot, not even when he was publicly engaged. No, James’ heart would always lie with Regulus at its very center.

Ironically, Lily Evans knew this most of all. She never resented either James nor Regulus for it, but she knew James would never love her like he did Regulus. James had told her on Halloween a year after they left Hogwarts, she had found him having a panic attack outside the bar they all were at. He had been muttering Regulus’ name over and over and saying that he felt something was wrong, that he needed to check on his heart. Lily had never seen James cry like he did that night, and when the papers read about Regulus’ death a few months later, she knew they had been connected more than she originally thought. It had taken five more months before Lily had been able to ask James about Regulus, and he had told her almost everything. A part of her will always grieve the fact that the man she loves will always belong more to a dead man than to her, but the other part understands James more than she’d ever realize herself.

The final heartbreak is the one he faces now. His best friend, his brother, standing at his door with tears in his eyes. James could feel his smile slip off his face. No, no, no, not Peter. Peter didn’t even say anything, his face said all James needed to know. He had been betrayed by his best friend.

And as James looked at the end of Tom Riddle’s wand, he thought of the stars and how finally, the Sun’s path would meet with his star’s.

[maytheoddshq]

Link Cache (she/her). District Three Mentor. 124 Victor. Twenty-One. Kiera Allen.

Of all the lives to lead in Panem, Link certainly had one of them.

And for a while, that was more than enough.

  It wasn’t as beautiful as seven or nine, it wasn’t as rich as one or two, it wasn’t as miserable as the coal mines of twelve or as happy as the beaches in four. But there was some beauty, some wealth, some misery, some happiness. It was fairly middle, fairly written off. And it was in that middle-of-the-roadness that we find Link, and her deeply middle of the road family.

  She had a mother, a father, and two younger siblings. Tag, Zip, and Link were thick as thieves. They weren’t rich, but they never worried for food. Their clothes were warm enough, even though the twins got more of Link’s hand-me-downs than they did new ones. Link excelled in school, in the way that felt expected of three. Coding was problem solving, pattern recognition, troubleshooting. She aspired to a career in IT, keeping panem connected and online.

  More than that, she aspired to being able to come home every day, to have a quiet, happy family like her own.

  Except things didn’t stay quiet. Life never did.

  She was 17 when Zip, twelve years old at the time, got pulled from the bowl. Her brother had always been shy and quiet, the one who hid behind both sisters. Link took the spot, glad to take him out. She was going to die, but… well… the twins were twelve, it was their second reaping.

  Her district partner was 25.

  It was an older games all around, mostly. Only a few kids around her age, and while she wasn’t the youngest, she was close. She was smart, but not strong. likable, but not bold. After the reaping, she didn’t stand out, although she tried. It wasn’t until the Arena where she really felt like the intellect in her eyes got to shine.

  It was a maze. Well, not all of it was, but the pyramid in the center was, and she stayed inside for six straight days. They limited water to the tributes, even as gifts, to a max intake per day. so they were all thirsty and hot and tired. She never mapped the walls entirely, unsure if walls would change or not. Instead, she focused on context clues, trying to find the next right choice. There usually was one, as long as “the next right choice” meant “away from everyone else”. To her, it did. Of course, there were the dangers that were fairly obvious to run from. But most of it was just vibes, trying to stay alive and alone until they tried to kill her again.

  She expected to die on day three, day four. But they passed, and she lived, killing to do it. She stopped counting canons, too scared to get her hopes up. Too hard to listen to the ones she’d caused. It wasn’t until they herded them all into the center of some room with mummies that she kind of knew she’d made it until the end. And then the walls started collapsing, trying to drive together the tributes too tired to even fight.

  Rocks fall, everyone dies. Or… almost everyone. Two were left, Link and a girl from 4. That was the girl who should’ve won, Link was pinned under rubble. She just had gashes. She had a sword, a sponsor gift. Link thinks about that, Sometimes. She had gifts too, but none that expensive. Nobody wanted her to win that badly. But Link had the wherewithal to be still under the rubble, to look dead. And four didn’t figure out who was alive fast enough, before her body didn’t have enough blood in it to hold the sword anymore, to sit up, to breathe.

  Link won, but lost a lot of stamina and mobility in her legs from the two hours she’d spent pinned, playing dead, being crushed.

  Winning was strange, unexpected. But more than that was the fame, shone upon herself and her family. She bought everyone in her family shiny new phones, Tag started an account on some app, videos of herself dancing in the victory village, and within days she had thousands of followers. It was an adjustment for everyone, the media and the attention. They were a quiet, normal family. They weren’t made to be winners of a reality television show.

And she kind of adjusted to that, eventually. People wanted interviews, asked about her siblings by name, asked about home, how her recovery was going. Every six months, she came back to it, knowing what to expect. New, shiny victor.

  Except recently, it hasn’t been that anymore, it’s just been “how do you feel about this batch?” or, more often “who are you rooting for besides yours?” three wasn’t written off as bad as some. But they certainly weren’t careers, and she certainly hadn’t proved herself as ‘enough’ of a mentor yet. She was young, she’d never brought home a victor. She was smart, yes, but how much did that matter when she wasn't the one making those life or death calls anymore? how did that translate to teaching tributes?

  Of all the districts in Panem, three was certainly one of them.

  But that wasn’t enough when you had lives on the line.

(+) bright, quick, kind (-) quiet, impulsive, stubborn

PENNED BY: Rainy

[golbrocklovely]

remember me // colby brock (pt 2)

A/N: as i mentioned before in a different post, this took me FOREVER to write. i loved writing this story but something about it just made me drag it out for so long. nonetheless, i love this and i'm excited to see what you all think. please lmk what you thought about this. thank you to everyone that has supported me and sent me kind messages. yall are the best ! hope you enjoy :) also lmk if you want another part...

prompt: she's the only one that remembers colby, or so they both thought.

trigger warning: ANGST, heartbreak, AU mention, friendship problems, cursing, happy-ish ending (but not the end...?), kissing

word count: 5526

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colby was relieved that the waitress, the only one that remembered him, decided to help. The moment she agreed, Colby gave her his number and left. She texted him not too long after, and he realized for a moment she never said her name. He planned to ask her the next day when they decided to meet up at his place.

It was weird to come back to his apartment, knowing that down the hall his best friend, his brother, lived there and didn't know who he was. Usually when Colby felt lonely, he would walk down the hall to Sam's and hang out for a bit. It was always nice to talk to Sam about anything and everything.

But now... he couldn't do that.

Colby tried to sleep during the night, but barely any rest came from it. He tossed and turned, hoping that when he would wake up, this would all just be some weird-ass nightmare.

When his cell phone rang the next morning at 9:34 A.M., it was an unfamiliar ringtone. As he rubbed his eyes awake, he glanced at the caller, the name 'Waitress' appearing on his screen.

I guess this wasn’t a dream after all.

"Yeah?" Colby groaned, squinting his eyes at the sunlight.

Her voice came through cheery, the tone too loud in Colby’s ears. “Let me up to your apartment. I'm here.”

He cleared his throat. “This early?”

“I figured you would want your normal life back as soon as possible, yeah?” She sassed.

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, give me a second. I'll come down and get you.”

Colby stumbled out of bed, running his fingers through his hair as he threw on a random shirt and jeans, slowly trudging down to the lobby of his apartment. She sat on a couch, tapping her foot against the carpeted floors. Her eyes were staring out the door, almost like she was looking at someone. When she heard Colby’s footsteps, her gaze pulled away from outside.

“Did I wake you?” She frowned, grabbing her bag next to her and standing up.

He shook his head. “You can't really be woken up if you barely slept.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She lightly bit her lip, following Colby to the elevator.

He shrugged tiredly. “It's okay.”

They both slowly got into the elevator, climbing up to Colby's floor. The loud 'ding' of the elevator broke their silence moments later. They walked to Colby's apartment, and he unlocked his door quickly.

She whistled quietly. “Woah, nice place.”

A half smile spread across Colby’s face. “Thanks.”

“No offense, but how do you pay for this place if you're not a social media person?” She questioned, stepping into the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow. “That's... a good question. From what my mom told me over the phone yesterday, I worked all throughout high school and college, so maybe it's from that?”

“You only worked at Dairy Queen while you were in high school. You must have gotten a better job in college because there is no way you can afford this place.” She disagreed.

Colby smirked. “How'd you know I worked at Dairy Queen?”

“Well, for starters, my friend told me. And also, I did some research about you. But I'll get to that in a second.” She continued, her voice falling to a serious tone, “So... would you like to hear my theories?”

“Theories?” He puzzled.

“As to why everyone forgot about you.” The waitress explained.

Colby sat down on his barstool, exhaling. “Let's hear it.”

“Okay. For argument sakes, you're gonna have to just go with me on this. Because otherwise, I literally have no way to help you.” She started, already pacing slightly.

He cautioned. “...okay?”

“So last night, I tried to think of a reason why everyone would collectively forget about you. And the only conclusion I could come up with is that you're in an alternative universe.” She hypothesized.

Colby’s eyes widened, bugging out of his head. “A what?”

“An alternative universe. Basically, everything is pretty much the same in your life, except a few minor details,” she revealed. “That’s why you still live in this apartment, but you didn’t get here the same way you did in your other life, your real life.”

“This... it's way too early for this.” He grumbled, astonished.

She sighed, her hands resting on her hips. “The only other option is that this is a very long-winded prank that your friends are still pulling on you. Have you tried talking to any of your other friends besides Sam?”

“No, everyone else’s number is gone in my phone, which I can only assume means they don’t know me either.” Colby retorted. Then he took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “But, this doesn't make sense. How did I end up here if this isn't my life?”

“I’m not sure how you got here, but I think you’re here for a specific reason. I think you’re here to right a wrong that this Colby Brock did. I’m just… not entirely sure what that wrong might be.” She answered, unsure.

He huffed. “Okay… what am I supposed to do then? Stay here and hope we figure that out soon? I don't even know who I am in this universe.”

“And that's where my research comes into play.” She pulled a laptop from her bag quickly, placing it down on the counter and opening it. She scrolled through her browsers until she came across Colby's Facebook, which surprisingly looked active for someone who hadn't been personally on it in years.

I use Facebook? Gross.

“First, I started by seeing if you and Sam were friends on here, but that didn’t amount to much since Sam doesn’t have a Facebook. However, what I found out is that you and Sam did live in the same town, go to the same high school, and played in the same marching band. Sam talked about his early years before he was ‘famous’ in one of the first videos he posted, and I crossed referenced that with your profile and it all matches up.” She informed.

“That's strange,” he mumbled. “What did we do after high school?”

She stated. “You went off to college and majored in Business Management with a minor in Philosophy. You graduated early too.”

Me? Graduating early? I couldn’t even get through math without Sam’s help.

“What did Sam do?” He asked.

The waitress scrolled to another tab, opening it to show a search of Sam. “Well, a very quick Google search shows that he actually went to the same college as you but dropped out once his Vine career started to pick up. Then he went on to Musical.ly when Vine died. He moved out to LA in 2017 and started a YouTube channel after he met Katrina, and slowly met all of his- your, friends that way. He got a bump of followers once he started dating Kat because of her following.”

Colby’s mouth gaped at her words. “That can't be true. He would have never wanted that. I mean, I had to convince him that we should be on social media so that we could spread our message. Plus, he hates those channels that use their relationship for views.”

“Not this version of Sam. Or at least, it doesn't seem like it.” She commented.

He covered his face, groaning into his hands. “What the hell am I here for? What wrong have I done in this universe?”

Her voice low, she replied. “I think it might have to do with Sam.”

“But... he doesn't know me.” He dissented, sitting up.

She nodded. “I thought so too. However, after scrolling through all of your public photos, I found this.”

Colby squinted at the screen, an old photo of him and Sam stared back. They looked super young, probably sophomores in high school. They were both smiling, laughing at something. He vaguely remembered this day.

“So, we did know each other.” He bit his lip softly.

She hummed. “Yeah. And weirdly, it’s the only photo of the two of you on your profile. But it’s not the only strange thing.”

Scrolling to a different tab, she pulled up an old tweet of Sam’s. It read ‘Never thought you would be the one to hurt me. But I guess everyone can be surprising.’

Colby noted the date. “That was back in high school.”

“Yeah, and there’s a bunch like them. He talks about being betrayed and someone hurting him deeply. He never mentions, of course. But his tweets line up with some that you were tweeting at the same time.” She confessed.

The waitress clicked on a different tab and another tweet showed up, one from Colby’s account. He gazed at it, reading the words ‘If you hate me… imagine how I feel about myself.’

Colby’s face dropped. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t tweet that often, but when you do, you talk about righting wrongs and fixing things you fucked up.” She added, “You also hate on yourself a lot.”

He doubted, crossing his arms. “You think they’re connected?”

“I do. I think in this universe you fucked up somehow and hurt Sam. And I think you are here now to fix what the other you did.” She explained.

He ranted. “This is all so fucked! When I saw him yesterday, he acted like he didn’t even know me. How am I supposed to even go about this? What, do I just go down the hall and apologize for something I don’t even remember doing?”

“No. Sam's not in his apartment anyway. I saw him leave while I was waiting for you.” She mentioned nonchalantly.

He grunted. “Great, he could be anywhere in LA right now.”

“I know exactly where he is.” She smirked.

“What? How?” He questioned.

The waitress divulged. “This version of Sam has a favorite restaurant he goes to all the time. A lot of his fans know about it, thus one look through any of his fan accounts and you'll see it. It's called ‘Paradise’.”

“Sounds like a strip club.” Colby deadpanned.

She pouted. “It's not. But he goes there all the time, and I got us a table there last minute.”

“What exactly are we gonna do when we get there?” He crossed his arms.

“I was planning on going up to his table and talking to him, maybe asking him about you, see how he reacts.” She described.

Colby furrowed his brow, confused. “And what about me?”

She slid her laptop into her bag, zipping it up hastily. “Well… I didn’t really think that far ahead. But hopefully, whatever you did is forgivable, and we can just fix it right there.”

He murmured. “That's a lot to hope for.”

“It's better than sitting here and wasting daylight.” She grabbed her stuff and headed for the door. Colby followed suit, grabbing his keys.

He spoke as he locked his door. “What if this doesn’t work?”

She turned back to him. “It will. It has to.”

~~~

Paradise was a themed restaurant, which Colby thought was strange because his Sam never really liked those types of restaurants. The theme was nice, however, tropical and Hawaiian. It felt like something he, Sam, and a few friends would have gone to after a fun, drunk night.

As Colby and the waitress were escorted to their table, they both kept an eye out for Sam, glancing around nervously for the blonde boy.

“I think the worst thing about this universe version of me is how messy my car is,” Colby joked. “It’s like I live out of it.”

She shrugged, smiling. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You should see my real car. My honey wagon is spotless.” He expressed, waving his hand.

“Honey wagon?” She queried.

“Long story,” he chuckled. Then abruptly, he gasped. “Holy shit, I just realized I never got your name.”

She cocked her head. “What? I never told you?”

He blinked. “No.”

She started. “It's-”

“Hi, I'm Tony, I'll be your server for today. Can I get you something to drink to start you guys off?” Tony greeted, cutting her off.

“Yeah, sure. A water for me.” She blurted out.

Colby added. “Coke, please.”

Tony smiled. “Okay, coming right up.”

Once Tony left, the waitress started scoping out for Sam again, her eyes widening once she saw him.

Her body stiffened, turning back to Colby. “He's over there, three tables down to your left.”

Colby gazed over his shoulder at his friend. Sam looked lost in thought, staring at his phone as he ate his food.

“Why is he alone?” He muttered.

“From some of the blogs I read, he likes to go out and eat by himself. Also, apparently, him and Kat are on the rocks.” She admitted.

“They love each other so much, it's kinda gross to be around them sometimes,” He quipped, but shook his head. “So to hear that...”

“I'm gonna head over.” She announced quickly.

Before he could speak, she left the booth. Colby watched her walk over to Sam, listening closely to their conversation as he ducked his head down.

“Hey... sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Golbach?” She asked sweetly.

“Yeah I am. Did you want something?” Sam stared blankly at her.

“Um, yeah?” She almost scoffed at his tone. “I’m a huge fan and I know this might be a weird question, but do you know someone named Colby Brock?”

Sam’s face remained stoic, but his eyes intensified. “No, I've never heard of that name before.”

“Are you sure, because I'm pretty certain that you and him are best friends.” She insisted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Colby watched nervously as she pulled out her phone and showed Sam the photo. Sam scrunched up his face, his eyes scanning the image. “Yeah, no. Still don’t know who he is. What was his name again?”

“Colby Brock.” She stated.

“...Sorry. I’ve never heard a name like that before.” He mumbled, almost inaudibly. “Sounds stupid anyway.”

She cocked her head. “Wait, what?”

Colby clenched his fist, unable to hear this conversation any longer. He needed to come face-to-face with Sam. He slid out of his seat, walking hastily over to Sam and the waitress. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he gaped at Colby.

“Sam…” Colby started.

Sam growled. “Are you fucking serious, Colby? Did you really have to get one of my fans involved?”

“What?” Colby puzzled.

Sam jumped out of his seat, grabbing Colby’s arm and pulling him out of the restaurant. The waitress followed behind them, confused just as much as Colby. Sam’s feet stopped behind the back door of the building, turning to Colby without warning.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam barked.

Colby stepped back, surprised by Sam’s anger. “...Uh, I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Sam scoffed. “Why the fuck are you here? After all this time?”

“So, you do remember me.” Colby remarked.

“Yeah, I do. When you showed up at my place yesterday, it took me a minute to realize it was you, since you decided to dress up like a Hot Topic employee, but yeah, I knew it was you. Are you really gonna pretend in front of her that we don’t know each other?” Sam teared his eyes away from Colby’s, staring at the waitress suddenly. “Let me guess, he hasn’t told you the whole story, right?”

“I guess not.” She shrugged uncomfortably.

Sam chuckled darkly. “Of course not. If he told the whole story, he would have to admit he was an asshole, and God knows he’s not gonna do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Colby panted.

“Do you not remember? Well, I’ll give you a refresher. You and I became friends freshman year of high school. You were my best friend and I was yours. I trusted you. I trusted you with a lot of shit that I’ve never told anyone. Senior year of high school, right before we were about to graduate, right as we were starting a social media career, suddenly you don’t want anything to do with me; which would have been bad enough, but then I go and find out you and my girlfriend were hooking up behind my back,” Sam snapped, catching his breath for a moment. “So yeah, I remember you, Colby.”

Colby’s mouth fell open, his breathing speeding up.

None of this sounds like me. I would never hurt Sam like that.

“And now, you have the fucking audacity to show up when everything in my life is going great and I’m succeeding. I have fans, friends, and a girlfriend that all love and care about me, and you’re here trying to what? Stir up drama? Get some clout from me?” He demanded.

“If your friends and girlfriend love you, why are you eating all alone?” The waitress jeered.

Sam glared at her, biting his tongue. “And you made one of my fans hate me. Dope, dude.”

“Sam, look; I’m sorry for what I did. But that was years ago. I’m not who I was back then.” Colby choked out.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you in my life. Do you not understand what you did to me?” Sam persisted.

“I know I was an asshole, and I apologize for ever hurting you like that. But I miss you, and I want to work things out. Let me prove to you that I’m better.” He trembled, getting closer to Sam.

Sam backed up, blocking Colby. “No. No! You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to miss a relationship you fucked up. It took me years to trust again. Hell, I’m still going through it. You don’t get to decide whether or not you’re in my life. Not anymore.”

“Sam… please.” Colby whimpered.

“Don’t show up at my place again. Don’t talk to my fans about me. Don’t act like you care about me. Because I’m done,” Sam stared into Colby’s eyes before going back into the restaurant. “I don’t care about you. Fuck off forever and leave me alone.”

Sam’s words punched Colby hard, taking the breath out of him instantly. He caught himself against the wall, his legs turning to gelatin under his weight.

He stuttered. “I… gotta leave. I-I have to…”

“Colby, relax. It’s gonna be okay.” She grabbed his hand.

He shook off her embrace. “What? No it’s not! Did you not hear what he said? Why would he want to be friends with a piece of shit like me?!”

“You were eighteen when this all happened. Give yourself a break.” She argued.

“No. I’m fucking terrible. This version of me is terrible. Of course he doesn’t want to be friends with me! I don’t even want to be me.” His voice quivered with anger, his body racing away from her.

She furrowed her brows, trying to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“I just need to leave. I can’t be here right now!” He grunted, his pace picking up.

She called after him, but Colby didn’t care. His heart slammed against his chest over and over again. Tears weld up into his eyes, blurring his vision as he began to run. He wanted to keep running until his legs gave out, until he couldn’t remember all the words Sam had said to him.

It dawned to Colby how much worse this universe was.

He wasn’t just stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t know him.

He was stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t want to know him.

In a universe where Sam didn’t love him.

And he had no way of escaping.

Colby must have blacked out while he ran, somehow maintaining to stay upright, because once his thoughts started to subside, and his body basically gave out under him, he noticed he was in a part of LA he had never been before. Some random neighborhood that was unfamiliar.

He shoved his body up against a metal telephone pole, sliding down to the ground. He tried catching his breath, gulping back breaths as he forced down the nausea overwhelming his senses. He wiped his face with his sleeve, feeling more tears rush down his cheeks.

His throat and chest burned with each sharp inhale. He whimpered into his hands, covering his face from the slowly retreating sun.

He slid his phone out of his pocket once he caught his breath, calling the only number he knew.

“Hey honey. What’s up?” His mom’s voice rang back sweetly.

Colby’s voice was monotone, exhausted. “You know who Sam is, don’t you?”

The line went quiet for a moment, all Colby could hear was her light breath.

“You told me not to talk about him. After you two stopped being friends, you said you never wanted to hear his name again.” She exhaled deeply, “I was taken aback when you asked about him yesterday.”

“He’s out here… in LA.” He responded.

She gasped lightly. “Did you run into him?”

He laughed bitterly. “You could say that.”

“Oh, Colby. I’m so sorry.” His mother consoled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, mama. I just…” Colby trailed off, unable to explain.

“Why don’t you come home this weekend?” She offered. “I miss you, you know.”

“I would love to. But…” His chest heaved as hot tears drifted down his cheeks. “That’s not my home.”

“Nonsense. You will always have a home here.” She assured him, her voice almost trembling.

He wiped a fallen tear, a broken smile coming to his face. “That’s good to know. I love you.”

She hummed. “I love you too, baby. Call me again soon.”

“I will. Bye.” He uttered breathlessly.

The sky was getting darker and darker, and Colby remained against the phone pole. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but suddenly his phone vibrated, a new message from ‘Waitress’ asking where he was. He sent his location, and she arrived twenty minutes later in his car. He stood up, stumbling to his passenger door. His legs were weak from the sprinting he had just done. As he got in, the cool AC blasted the sweat and tears off his face.

They didn’t speak, a quiet radio station playing in the background the only sound. She drove through the hills of LA, eventually hitting a peak. She parked the car as it overlooked LA, the lights looking like stars on the horizon.

She got out a minute later, walking over to the hood and leaning against it. He could see something in her hand but didn’t recognize it. Colby sat in the car by himself, not able to physically move his body from how exhausted he felt. Eventually, he achingly stepped out of the car, sitting next to her on the hood.

“I’m fucked.” Colby breathed.

She started. “I don’t think-”

“Please don’t try to make me feel better. I know you mean well, but I am fucked,” he rebutted, his voice dark. “I’m stuck here, in this universe, where Sam hates me. And as if that weren’t bad enough, I did terrible things, things I know I would never do to him. How the fuck am I supposed to apologize for those mistakes? I wouldn’t take him back if the roles were reversed.”

“Read this.” The waitress stated, handing him a journal.

He glanced down at the leather-bound book, slightly faded from years of writing. He unclicked the lock and opened it, looking down at the pages. It was his, a journal full of writings he had done.

“Where did you get this?” He inquired.

“You were right about your car being messy. But you’d be surprised what you fine if you just look.” She teased.

Colby read over the words, the first entry catching his eye. It was dated a year after him and Sam had graduated high school.

Sam is succeeding without me. I knew he would. He was always so smart when it came to business decisions. He just hit 10k followers on Vine. That’s crazy!

“What the hell is this?” Colby questioned.

She answered quickly. “This whole journal was you keeping up with Sam without him knowing. This version of you always paid attention to what he was doing, even if you guys were no longer friends.”

“I’m obsessed with Sam? That’s great.” He deadpanned.

“You’re not obsessed with Sam. Read this entry.” She skipped a handful of pages, finally stopping on one and showing it to him.

I hate myself everyday for the hurt I caused Sam. I can’t believe what an idiot I was back when I was 18. We could have gone so far together… but I had to go and fuck it up.

He scowled. “Am I supposed to be sad for myself?”

“Keep reading.” She pushed.

The night I chose to never speak to Sam again, I knew I made the wrong decision. But I had to. Sam was ready to go on and do bigger and better things. I was just gonna hold him back. I was terrified of failing, not only myself, but him. He deserves success. That’s why I had to ignore him. I have never been as smart as him. I would have ruined our chances of doing something great. And I have been proven right by how far he has gone without me.

“You stopped being his friend because you were scared, not because you didn’t care anymore.” She repeated.

He slid off the car, scoffing. “So what if I was scared to fail? Sam didn’t deserve the hurt I caused just because of that. And what about me cheating with his girlfriend?”

She jumped off the car, striding up to Colby. She grabbed the journal from his hand. “You didn’t cheat, look.”

She pointed at the bottom of the page, his eyes following her finger.

“Me and Lexi were never together! I hate her for telling him that. One night, they had a really big fight and she came over to my house to ask what she should do. I told her to break up with him if she really didn’t care anymore. And then she tried to hit on me. I told her off and threatened to tell Sam, but she got to him first. She must have told him her and I were together.” The waitress read aloud.

“Wait, if I never hooked up with his girlfriend, why wouldn’t I tell him that?” Colby hissed.

“I think at that point, you wanted the friendship to be over, and I think this solidified it.” The waitress responded.

“All this time I could have been friends with Sam, but I ruined it because I was scared? What a fucking idiot.” He spat.

“You weren’t an idiot,” She interjected. “You just disliked yourself so much you didn’t think you deserved happiness. At least now you know that this version of you isn’t as terrible as you thought.”

“Even with that being the case, Sam’s never gonna accept my apology. Why should he?” Colby lamented, “I let him down the worst ways. I broke his trust and loyalty.”

She shook her head, stepping towards him. “Give him some time. You might be surprised."

Before Colby could speak, his phone rang. He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the number. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were sorry?” Sam spoke, his tone hesitant, but dry.

His breath hitched at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Of course. I never meant to hurt you, Sam.”

Sam paused for a moment, before breathing out. “I’m giving you one more chance. Tomorrow. Come by my place. You apparently know where I live.”

“Yeah,” Colby laughed awkwardly. “I’ll come by. Thank you… Sam.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll see you later.” Sam stated, hanging up.

Once the call ended, Colby’s eyes stared down at his phone widely. He almost couldn’t believe that happened.

He inhaled sharply. “Sam just called me. He wants to meet me tomorrow.”

“That’s great.” Her voice just above a whisper.

“He wants to hear me out… he wants to give me another chance.” His face dropped with confusion. “How did he get my number?”

It hit Colby like a brick as he gazed up at the waitress, who bit her lip hiding her smile. “You…?”

“You weren’t the first person I showed the journal to,” she explained. “When you ran off, I was gonna go after you. As I got in your car, I saw this journal sticking out from under your seat. I read through it and… I knew I had to show Sam. I went back in and talked to him for an hour, showing him how much you were actually sorry. How much you had beat yourself up over hurting him. And then I gave him your number. I wasn’t sure if he was gonna call but-”

“Oh my God, you’re amazing!” Colby ran up to her, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around. She gripped his shoulders tightly as they spun, laughing loudly into his ear. As her feet touched the ground, he stared into her eyes, his smile the brightest she had ever seen it. His hands glided up her body to her face, cupping her cheeks quickly. He smashed his lips against hers, his heart pounding as he did. Her hands lowered to his chest, her grasp on his shirt tightened as she felt herself lose her footing and back up into the car.

As they stumbled, he realized what he was doing, pulling away quickly. “Shit… I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s okay,” She giggled. “I’m just… surprised.”

He exhaled, letting his arms fall away from her body. “Me too.”

They leaned against the car, keeping a slight distance from each other. A light blush rested on both their faces; however, it was hard to see with the setting sun, something they were both grateful for.

The waitress sighed, breaking the moment of silence. “I think I know why this happened. Why I was the only one who remembered you…”

He raised an eyebrow, slightly side-eyeing her. “Really?”

“I lied to you when we first met. I wanted to seem a bit cooler than I am, but I don’t think I can hide that anymore.” She began, nervously.

Colby’s face relaxed a little, surprised at her words. “Okay.”

“My friend didn’t introduce me to you guys… I introduced her… to you.” She confessed.

A soft grin came to his face. “I had a feeling.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! I totally did,” he snickered. “Not every fan knows I worked at Dairy Queen. And… no average fan would have helped me get Sam back the way you did.”

“I think there’s a reason for all of this. I think in your universe, your life… you don’t know me.” Her voice dropped suddenly, making Colby turn to her.

“That’s true, I don’t.” He nodded.

Her eyes met his, a sad glint reflecting in the moonlight. “But I think the reason for that is because… you’re not supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” He replied, his face twisting in confusion.

“I think you and I are only supposed to have met here, in this universe. But not in yours.” She glared up at the sky, “Maybe in some weird way, I’m your guardian or guide or something.”

Colby’s thoughts raced. “So, what you’re saying is-“

“This might be the last time you’ll ever see me. You did what you had to do. You got Sam and you to talk again.” Her voice cracked as she held back tears, “You can go home.”

He grabbed her hands, holding them close to his body. “But… I don’t want to leave if it means I don’t know you.”

A hitched breath fell from her lips, a smile appearing from his words. “If we’re meant to be, we’ll see each other again.”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head, a deep frown settling on his face.

“I know, but it’s how it has to be.” She whispered.

He rested his forehead against her, breathing deeply. “Can I… get one more kiss?”

She bit her lip softly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They leaned in, his breath fanning across her lips for a split second before he pulled away.

“Wait…” He shuddered. “I never got your name.”

A soft smile came to her lips. “I’ll tell you after.”

His arms wrapped around her, pressing her body into his as their lips collided. He held onto her for dear life, terrified that the moment he pulled away, she would be gone.

He could feel things around him slow down, almost melting away, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the beauty of their kiss making him dizzy. A whirling silence overcame his senses. A burning sensation sliced through his abdomen; his breath ripped from his lungs.

A heavy darkness overtook his vision and for the briefest of moments, he felt absolutely nothing.

Except her lips.

<< |

[worstloki]

Loki was sitting on a bed, staring with with almost lifeless eyes at the bed sheets he held fisted tight in his hands. Any second now...

As if summoned by Loki's thoughts, a figure popped into existence, all glowing blue skin and blue eyes dark as he walked over to Loki's still form.

Tess said nothing even as he sat down and wrapped his arms around Loki who didn't resist the comforting gesture, turning into Space's side.

"How are you feeling?" Tess asked finally once Loki was settled comfortably.

Loki tried to figure that out. He had been for over a year or so now. He wasn't sure entirely how much time had passed. If he was honest, he'd say he felt nothing. Empty and numb.

He didn't say that, only shrugged. It wasn't like he could lie. If he did, Tess would find out the truth from Soul who only needed to touch Loki's skin to find out what he was feeling and had done so before even when Loki had insisted on her to stop.

'For your own safety,' was all she said before violating his thoughts and feelings.

"Are you unhappy?" Tess asked with a slight frown, interrupting Loki's thoughts. "Is something wrong?"

'Yes,' Loki thought as he squeezed his eyes shut tight and shook his head.

Tess wasn't convinced. He never was. "If there is something you need or want, you can always ask us. We'll do whatever you need to be happy. You know we will."

Loki did know. That's what frightened him. He was scared to speak a word around them all anymore for the exact reason that they'd do anything neccessary for his own wellbeing.

They had killed Thanos after everything the Mad Titan had put Loki through to force him to attack New York to get Tess from those Midgardian's.

Power had been the one to bring back Thanos' decapitated head to Loki with the assurances that the Titan had suffered greatly before he died. Loki had both felt relieved and sick as he stared at Thanos' mutilated head, barely recognizable that if he hadn't been told it was Thanos he would never have guessed so.

Loki had been foolish to think it was a one time thing. He told himself they were all simply protective of him was all.

And Loki hadn't been lying. They all were protective of him. Very much so.

It was when Loki had let slip Odin's neglect and the hurt Loki had felt for never feeling good enough that he found at how much power and damage his words could cause if he wasn't careful. Loki had nearly been sick when Reality came to him, tossing a single blue eyeball in his hand as he explained what they'd done to the old king before ripping the one good eyeball from his eye socket and shortly after, killing him.

Loki learned to shut his mouth around them all, afraid of what they'd do to anyone else Loki spoke of that had hurt him. Yes, he felt some satisfaction that they were no longer able to hurt him but he couldn't enjoy it when he knew what they had gone through before they died. He never asked for anyone to die.

But then Loki started getting hurt. When he fought in battle against enemies or simply because he hadn't been paying enough attention to what he was doing.

They didn't like it at all. They all hated seeing Loki hurt and after Time mentioning seeing a time where Loki had died, they got even more paranoid. So they took him away from it all to somewhere they promised he'd be completely safe.

Loki had been furious at first. They couldn't just take him away from his life! But they had and they only gave Loki sad smiles when he screamed at them about betrayal.

Loki had tried to hurt himself, just to show they couldn't always protect him but found it impossible. He threw his fists at the wall but there was in invisible barrier between him and the wall that made it impossible to connect his fist. He tried scratching at his arms but the same thing happened. He tried to 'accidentally' trip but he never hit the floor, simply floating until he lightly touched the floor.

He couldn't injure himself.

So he screamed and he raged and he demanded to be let out of the room they'd stuck him in but nothing. They visited all the time but they never let him out again.

His anger had turned to a deep depression where he'd sit on his bed or on the floor and stare at the door across the room that never opened. A cruel joke to him, having a door that he couldn't open.

His magic was practically useless wherever he was. He'd tried to use it, even against his lovers who never got angry when something was thrown at them but seemed even more sad each time it happened. He couldn't use his magic to leave.

He was trapped.

Eventually, Loki accepted that he couldn't escape. Not by himself at least. He calmed down at any rate which had pleased the stones though Loki felt deadened inside.

The depression had gotten even worse after they killed his brother. Loki hadn't realized what he'd said until it was too late. It had been a simple mention of Thor always getting the attention and being Thor's shadow.

Loki hadn't been gifted with any body part of Thor's but the stones spoke about it to him, what they'd done before they killed him. Loki had been in horror and shock, unable to process that Thor was dead. He had been sick nearly over a month after that, walking up screaming from nightmares and crying whenever the stones tried to make him feel better. How could he ever feel better?

He'd gotten his brother killed.

After that, Loki had gone numb.

Tess visited the most. Loki had no idea where they went when they weren't with him but he found himself lonely when they weren't there. He normally wasn't left alone for long though. Despite everything, he still loved them. That's what he hated most about his situation. He shouldn't love them anymore but he did.

He did.

"Can I..." Loki swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. "Can I come out now? I'll...I'll be careful, I promise—"

Tess was already shaking his head, tightening his hold on Loki. "It's too dangerous. You could be hurt."

"Please, I'll be careful. I swear," Loki pleaded, becoming desperate every day he was trapped. He knew asking would do no good. Tess would never relent but he still got his hopes up even if it was for them to be crushed again.

"Hush, you're speaking nonsense. You're safe here," Tess shushed him.

Loki felt frustrated tears gather in his eyes. "But—"

"I said no," Tess said with a frown. "I let you have anything you want but you know the rules. You must stay here, where you're safe."

Loki went to speak again before another figure appeared right on the bed in front of them.

Loki shook his head, glancing away from Mind who looked at Tess. "Is everything okay? Why is he crying?"

Tess frowned deeply. "He wants to go outside again. It'll pass."

"Oh," Mind said before shaking her head as she drew closer. "That's too dangerous."

Loki wanted to scream but he only shook in Tess' hold as Mind reached for him, cupping his face between her hands.

"P-please, let me go," Loki whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks. "Please, d-don't—"

Mind hushed him as she kissed him softly, Loki making a weak noise of protest but could do nothing with Tess' arms crossed over his own.

Loki didn't see how Mind's hand pulsed a soft golden yellow, a trail of her power seemingly sinking into Loki's skin but he felt it as a sense of calmness and love for the people protecting him sink into his mind, making him go lax and pliant in Tess' arms.

"We love you," Tess murmured into his ear as Mind drew away and Loki took a shuddering breath.

"I...I love you all too," Loki said finally. Mind and Tess smiled at one another as Loki sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing fully into Tess' embrace.

He was safe. He had all of them to take care of him. He couldn't be hurt anymore.

Why would he ever want to go back outside?

🖤💚💛

I'm sorry if there's any spelling mistakes. I didn't check it over since I wrote it just now but here's some dark Infinoki for you 🖤

anon i love and will kill for you

(Part 2)

[eijispumpkin]

On Allegory, Imperfection, and Inadvertent Subversion: A small essay about Akimi Yoshida’s Banana Fish and Salinger’s “A Perfect Day For Bananafish”.

In the story of Banana Fish, Yoshida references Salinger’s short story “A Perfect Day For Bananafish” (which henceforth shall be addressed as “Perfect Day” simply for ease of reading) several different ways, both in-universe and out. It is exceedingly evident that the character of Ash Lynx is heavily based on Seymour Glass, and one might surmise that Banana Fish is an allegorical retelling of “Perfect Day”, especially given that in the original story, Ash Lynx dies of what is arguably a “passive suicide” – that is, when faced with an injury that isn’t immediately fatal, he chooses to bleed out rather than seek help, which when framed as a suicide, parallels the much more violent and sudden suicide of Seymour Glass.

However, this surface-level allegorical reading ignores a very important variable in the story of Banana Fish, namely the counterpart to Ash’s Seymour: Eiji’s Sybil. While Ash and Seymour share many similarities (both are traumatized, troubled geniuses with partly-Irish roots who grew up in New York City), the similarities between Eiji and Sybil are very few. Eiji does symbolize a world of innocence to contrast with Ash’s world of horrors, but unlike Sybil, Eiji is an adult with agency of his own, and though he retains some of Sybil’s childlike innocence and is able to connect deeply with Ash as a result of it, Eiji’s agency and decisions ultimately change the narrative and its meaning.

That is to say, by introducing Eiji as an imperfect Sybil, one who has agency and can actually provide Ash with understanding and support of the kind that Seymour never got from Muriel or others around him (and which Sybil, being three years old, was in no way equipped to provide), Banana Fish directly subverts “Perfect Day”’s original message of cynicism in the face of a material world unconcerned with the horror of lost innocence and its resulting isolation.

To understand what this means, it’s important to first understand the meaning and context of “Perfect Day” and the circumstances in which it was written. “Perfect Day” is a story written first and foremost as a critique of American materialism in the wake of WWII; Salinger echoes the concerns of the Lost Generation before him, in a way, by really driving home the alienation from modern adult life felt by those who were exposed to the horrors and traumas of the battlefields in wartorn Europe, only to return home and find a culture completely removed from it all. Seymour Glass is a stand-in for Salinger himself—Kenneth Slawenski, in his 2010 biography of Salinger, notes that on returning from the European theater, Salinger “found it impossible to fit into a society that ignored the truth that he now knew.”

If that sounds familiar, good, because it should! This is precisely the motif of “Perfect Day” (as well as some of Salinger’s other work featuring members of the Glass family, such as Seymour’s younger brother Buddy, which, as an aside, is a name that might stick out to Banana Fish fans. Whether this is an intentional reference or a coincidence, I can’t say for certain, but given the depth of other references within this allegory, I’m inclined to think it’s intentional).

As a quick summary for those who may need a refresher, “Perfect Day” is a story about a deeply traumatized man who feels isolated from the rest of society because of the weight of the horrors he has been exposed to. Muriel Glass, Seymour’s wife, is the epitome of this: she represents the materialistic culture that Seymour feels so alienated from, always talking about brand-name things and luxuries and upward mobility. Seymour rejects her company in favor of playing the piano for children and spending time on the beach, where he tells three-year-old Sybil Carpenter a story about bananafish, fish that gorge themselves on bananas in holes under the sea until they’re too fat to escape the entrances to these little banana dens, and then they die. Instead of dismissing this story as something bizarre, Sybil claims she sees a bananafish in the water, which endears her to Seymour, until she leaves, at which point he returns to his hotel room and shoots himself in the head.

In “Perfect Day”, this interaction (between Sybil and Seymour) is the center of a set of dualities. Sybil represents the state of childlike innocence that Seymour longs to return to, and because of her innocence, she can “understand” him in ways that the material adults like her mother or Muriel do not. Seymour’s isolation is a product of his society and the lack of support and understanding for traumatized veterans returning from war, and it shows in the way that adults his age cannot connect with him, and he cannot connect with them. This disconnect between worlds is what eventually results in Seymour’s suicide—he can fit neither in the world in which he wishes to be, nor in the one in which he must reside, and it ends in his death.

The question is, then, how does this relate to Banana Fish?

As mentioned previously, Ash Lynx is a very clear parallel to Seymour Glass. He’s a young man faced with immeasurable trauma from which he believes he can never recover, and there is a clear motif of duality in his entire character arc: his world (one of violence and trauma) versus the “normal” world (where innocent people who have “regular” lives may reside). Like Seymour, Ash feels trapped in a world he can’t escape, knowing “the truth” that he knows, about the horrors that people are capable of.

It follows, then, that Eiji Okumura is a parallel to Sybil Carpenter, who represents childlike innocence and a world that Ash longs to be part of but can’t reach. And to an extent, this is true: Eiji is sheltered and innocent, comparing real-life to TV shows and being completely unexposed to kidnappings, drugs, guns, and violence. However, there is a sharp contrast between Eiji and Sybil, one that fundamentally changes the relationship between Eiji and Ash and makes it radically different from that between Sybil and Seymour:

Eiji is an adult, and as such, he has agency of his own.

Unlike Sybil with Seymour, Eiji can make his own choices and face Ash as an equal. Where Sybil is a child who runs back to her mother after playing with Seymour at the beach, Eiji actively and consistently chooses to stay with Ash, over and over. He even explicitly tells Ash “you are not alone”, which is a huge and direct contrast to the message of inevitable, devastating isolation from “Perfect Day”. Whereas Sybil’s innocence serves as a reminder to Seymour of what he’s lost and cannot regain, Eiji’s innocence is a beacon of comfort and companionship to Ash. Eiji is someone with whom Ash can relax and be playful like a boy his own age, as noted by Max and Ibe watching them interact.

This communication and connection are present between Sybil and Seymour, but in a very different way. Seymour prefers to play make-believe and tell silly stories to kids, because he went from being a wide-eyed innocent to being traumatized and longing for a place to belong, and Sybil as a child represents what he wishes he had, while the adults around him (most notably Muriel, his wife) are a world he doesn’t understand that feels false.

This is not the dichotomy of worlds that Ash faces. Ash faces a world of trauma and suffering that he sees himself as trapped in, and a world of peace and security that he thinks is beyond his reach. Where Seymour yearns for a return to innocence, Ash yearns to escape his pain, and the combination of this subtle difference with the effect of Eiji’s agency and the narrative structure of Banana Fish results in a subversion of the themes in “Perfect Day”.

Banana Fish is a long-form narrative, while “Perfect Day” is a short story. Part of the inherent structure of a long-form narrative is character growth and development, which for obvious reasons is much less prominent in short stories. As a result, Eiji’s impact on Ash is clearly visible over the course of the narrative, and it becomes impossible to declare that Ash is firmly rooted in the world he sees himself as trapped in. By the end of the story, even Ash wavers on this assertion; although he ultimately succumbs to suicide, a narrative choice that been criticized ever since its publication, in the moments leading up to his stabbing, he does believe that Eiji is right, or at least right enough that he wants to see him one last time (this is ambiguous and open to interpretation, of course).

Why did this narrative choice spark so much controversy and outcry from fans? Not every story that ends in tragedy is criticized as poorly written for it; examples range from Shakespearean tragedies to “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story”, a film in which the entire cast dies in the climax. Yet just about all fans agree that it fit the narrative. Clearly, then, it is possible to craft a story that ends in death and tragedy but still feels well-written. What makes Banana Fish different?

I would argue that the answer lies in this imperfect allegory. By creating a Sybil-esque character that can interact with the Seymour-esque character as equals, can stay with him, and can listen to him and support him through his grief and pain, Akimi Yoshida inadvertently turned “Perfect Day”’s message on its head. The tragedy of “Perfect Day” is Seymour’s isolation. By giving Ash a warm, compassionate relationship in which he is assured over and over that he is not alone, Yoshida upturns this entirely.

Ash is led to believe in this dichotomy mostly by his isolation. He believes that since Eiji is in mortal danger as a result of being special to him, he needs to send Eiji to safety, i.e. somewhere far from him and far from the reach of those who would hurt them both. This isn’t a miscommunication issue or anything of the sort; this is Ash being afraid for Eiji’s life; Eiji isn’t averse to returning to Japan itself. Eiji is averse to returning to Japan without Ash, as he mentions when he talks about how Ash could be a model, and tells him about kami. In establishing this as a consistent tenet of Eiji’s character, Yoshida ensures that Ash is not isolated in the same way that Seymour was.

In addition, Eiji can move freely between both worlds set up in Ash’s perceived dichotomy, a motif made explicitly clear when Eiji leaps the wall to freedom and light at the beginning, leaving Ash (and Skipper) behind in captivity in the dark. Despite this escape from the world of violence and crime, Eiji returns of his own volition and stays with Ash, experiences his own fair share of horrific traumas, and still leaves in the end to return to his world. This makes it clear that the dichotomy is less stark than Ash is led to believe, unlike the repeated validation of his isolation that Seymour receives, and is another reason that the ending of “Perfect Day” is inconsistent with the ending of Banana Fish

A quick sidebar: Banana Fish has no real Muriel, but if pressed, I would posit that the closest parallel to Muriel that exists is Blanca, whose main purpose in the narrative seems to be to reinforce to Ash that he can’t escape the world he feels trapped in and longs to leave. But where in “Perfect Day” Muriel symbolized the materialism of American society after WWII, Blanca has no real established reason to be so invested in keeping Ash down, and in conjunction with the fact that despite his own traumas, he can retire peacefully to the Caribbean, his role in the story falls to pieces entirely. Where Muriel represented a lifestyle that Seymour fundamentally could not reach, thereby reinforcing his isolation, Blanca is supposed to parallel Ash to a degree, but his words to Ash do not match his actions whatsoever.

Therefore, if anything, Blanca’s assertions serve only to strike a contrast with Eiji’s (and Max’s, to an extent, since Max and Eiji both agree that Ash can escape this and they want him to heal). Moreover, Blanca’s relationship with Ash is that of a mentor and a student, a relationship that is shown to be fundamentally unhealthy, given that Blanca willingly worked for Ash’s abuser, a mafia don who he knew trafficked children. Some argue that Blanca was blackmailed into this service, but given that Blanca chose to betray Golzine at the end and work with Ash with seemingly no real provocation or change in his relationship with Golzine, this supposition seems flawed. Blanca’s assertions about Ash and his ability to forge bonds and leave his world the way Eiji does, and indeed the way Blanca himself does, are simply incorrect, and the narrative itself provides us all the tools we need to realize that Blanca is wrong, even without the extended context of a parallel to Muriel Glass.

Returning to the main issue at hand, i.e. that of the imperfect allegorical connections between Sybil and Eiji, and the dichotomy between worlds that Ash perceives, it’s clear that in creating a positive, nurturing relationship between Ash and Eiji rather than a one-off encounter, Yoshida inadvertently created a story about connections rather than isolation. Ash’s attempts to keep Eiji safe from harm by sending him home are countered by Eiji’s assertion that he only wants to go to Japan if Ash comes with him, which is a kind of selfless devotion that reaches through Ash’s isolation until he decides that he won’t try and separate himself from Eiji anymore, which is a massive blow to the dichotomy of his supposed two worlds. This is the narrative acknowledging that both worlds can coexist.

Not only this, but also Eiji, who has his own trauma—he’s kidnapped several times, shot at, drugged, sexually assaulted, attacked with a knife by a drugged friend, exposed to several deaths, shot at people in fights himself, and ultimately nearly killed by a gunshot wound—despite all of this, Eiji is still allowed to exist in the world of peace and regularity. Eiji’s innocence is sharply tempered by traumatic experiences, and he can still walk between worlds. If Eiji, Max, Ibe, Jessica, Sing, Cain, and Blanca can all experience traumas, why is Ash the only one who cannot escape? Is there some kind of magical bar of “too much” trauma, like an event horizon on a black hole?

Obviously, no.

So it comes to this: Essentially, the reason that the ending is so controversial, and why I personally believe that the open ending of the anime is an improvement to the original story, is that the allegory between Banana Fish and “Perfect Day” falls apart because of Eiji’s agency. Ash wants to protect Eiji, and to protect Eiji’s innocence and light, because he feels that it’s beyond his own reach, but Eiji forges a bond with him that is rooted in mutual respect and care, and in doing so, undoes the devastating, painful isolation that led to Seymour’s suicide. This is why Ash’s death can feel so hollow—it doesn’t follow the pattern of “Perfect Day”; after the entire story is about Ash’s bonds and those who love him unconditionally, it feels almost like a shock-value plot twist tacked on, rather than a tragic inevitability.

I don’t believe that Yoshida intended Banana Fish to be a subversion of “Perfect Day”. I believe she meant it as a one-to-one allegory, and this is why she kept the ending as Ash choosing death. However, due to the changes in themes because of the characters and their relationships, Ash is not isolated in the profound way Seymour was, and his death is therefore not nearly as impactful.

[salmonthestoryteller]

Against All Odds

Roswell New Mexico Coda 03x03

Isobel sighed - half in relief and half in frustration - as she parked her car by Michael’s truck.  Her brother was unsurprisingly sitting by his fire pit, but he seemed calmer than he had at the drive in.

Michael rolled his eyes when she got out of the car and approached him.  “I’m pretty sure I’m safe here, Iz.”

“There was a fire at the church.”  Isobel took a seat by him.  “We’re back to square one.”

Michael groaned, hanging his head over the back of his chair. “Well, the sunflowers are from me, I guess. So it’s someone I’d be willing to pay respects to.”

“I thought you were convinced it was you.”

“…”. Michael sat up, keeping his gaze on the fire.  “Well, Alex doesn’t think so.”

“You talked to Alex?”  Isobel asked.  Michael shrugged. “So you run away from Max and me - twice I might add-“

“I didn’t run-“”

“You never come to us for help, and trying to help you in anyway is a sure way to start an argument-“

“I don’t need charity-“

“But you will go straight to Alex Manes and tell him everything?”

“…if I was gonna kick it, I kinda wanted to see him at least once.”  Michael explained.

Isobel frowned.  The giddy feelings Michael had allowed to seep through their shared connection before Alex returned had been absent.  She thought perhaps he’d simply been too busy helping her save Max to say anything about their reunion but this didn’t really sound like that at all. “What happened?”

“Alex says if I was the one dead he’d… react differently.” A small flicker of hope again, but nowhere near as substantial.

“So, Alex said your death would affect him deeply.  Sounds like a pretty enormous declaration to me.”

“…yeah.”

“So why aren’t you with him?  Oh, shit, is he here?”  She glanced towards his trailer.

“What? No!”

“Well, I don’t get it.  What happened to all those “I think it’s our time” vibes-”

“He’s seeing someone else.”  Michael snapped.

Isobel froze at his words.  “Oh…”

Michael sighed.  “Yeah, so not our time.  Okay?”

“But I mean, if he’s saying you dying would affect him so much, how serious could he be about the other guy?”  She couldn’t help but point out. Honestly, she may have to do a little digging herself.  She wasn’t above being a manipulative bitch if either of her brothers’ happiness was on the line.

“I don’t know. I didn’t exactly interrupt their reunion kiss to ask how serious their relationship was.”  Michael responded sarcastically.

Isobel winced. She imagined that hadn’t been a great thing to witness.  “Maybe it’s not that serious?”

“Serious enough to let him know when he’d be back in town.”

“Yeah, but he also told you when he’d be back in town.”

“Alex has better options than a junkyard mechanic in Roswell with a criminal record. I can’t exactly fault him for choosing them.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I thought you were going to date Alex Manes, not a member of my Mom’s yoga club.” Isobel quipped. “Is he really that interested in boyfriend bragging rights?”

“He’s a decorated war hero. Can’t exactly go on dates with a criminal.”

“Didn’t seem to have a problem asking you to use your criminal talents to break into a top secret alien facility though.”  Isobel crossed her arms.  “Wait, is this why you cleaned up your act this past year?  For Alex Manes?”

“Look, don’t we have a murder to solve?  My non-existent relationship can wait.”

“That’s not a no.”

“There were a lot of reasons, Iz.  Knowing about our moms. Sanders.  Having you, me and Max back to how we used to be.  And, yeah, maybe some small piece of me thought it might impress Alex.  Most of which has all been turned on its head, so… can we please focus on the murder now?”

“Do I at least get a name?”

“Isn’t the point that we don’t know the name?”

“I mean the name of who Alex Manes is seeing that you apparently think he can brag about to his yoga club?”

“He doesn’t do yoga.”

“Irrelevant.”

“If I tell you, will you finally drop the subject?”

“Deal.”

“Forrest Long.”

“A Long?  Are you serious?”

“Dropping the subject, remember?”

“Come on, you can’t expect me to not say something about that.”

“As much as it pains me to say it, Forrest isn’t a bad guy.  Black sheep of his family.  Guess he and Alex have that in common.”

If she was already concocting a list of all the gossip mongers in town she knew who might know something about Forrest Long, Michael need never be the wiser.  “Gregory isn’t so bad.”

“Please tell me you two never-“

“No.  Just an observation.”

“Uh-huh.  So are you still seeing the bartender?”

“We aren’t serious. I don’t think I can be serious about someone who doesn’t know about us. Our collective history on that isn’t so good.” Isobel let her eyes rest on the fire - she didn’t like thinking about how that applied to her own past. To Noah and how he’d never truly been unaware. How their entire relationship had been nothing but lies.

“I hate the idea we cover another murder. Thought we were done with lies…”

Isobel frowned, watching the flames. “What if I’m not crying cuz of who it is, but how they died?”

“Meaning?”

“What if it’s cuz we’re to blame? What if it’s like Noah and Rosa and-”

“Hey, that’s not gonna happen.”  Michael cut her off.  “The only potential evil alien around here is in a cage in the desert and he’s staying there.  Nobody’s making us do anything ever again, okay?”

“Promise?”  Her smile felt shaky even to herself.

“Promise.” Michael didn’t hesitate.

End

Author’s Notes:  *sideeyes Jones* If you dare make Isobel go through that again…

I don’t think they’ll actually do mind control again.  Though it is one possible explanation for bringing up Noah at the funeral in the vision.

Mostly this was an excuse for Isobel and Michael interaction. Cuz Isobel may live to torment her brothers, but their happiness really is important to her.  There is a touch of classism with the way every character who is not named Liz Ortecho treats Michael during the course of the series, some more than others.  Isobel, however, has definitely gotten better about it since the first season.  So I can definitely hear her reacting to the notion that Michael wasn’t “good enough” boyfriend material defensively.  Because despite her own “stepford housewife” Roswell persona, she never allowed it to interfere with having Michael in her life - even when his behavior was at its worst.  And I can totally see her social media stalking poor Forrest and being like - yeah, no.  My brother is way better. (Sorry, Forrest.)

While I’m pretty sure Alex has long forgotten the words that started the communication errors between Michael and him, I think a part of Michael is still very hooked on that “I want to be with you, but not if you’re wasting your life.”  He still feels at some level that who he is isn’t “good enough” and that’s probably why he was willing to take such a huge step back when he realized Alex was interested in Forrest.  He needed to prove he could be “good enough” first.  And I need Alex to smack him over the head with the fact that he stopped caring about that shit somewhere around Caulfield.

Also, the fact that the only person Michael feels safe going to when things are bad is Alex?  That says things.  He’s had moments with other characters but in each instance they’ve come to him.  The only person Michael willingly goes to is Alex.  He’s the only person he feels truly safe asking things out of.  The only one he allows himself to shed that “but if I owe them, that’s dangerous” mindset with.  And thinking about that is truly heartrending.

[januaryisnotanartist]

So day 5 of KanSang week is Wang Clan! Liu Sang.

Which got me thinking about how would Liu Sang fit in with the Wang Clan (and Wang Can) and still be Liu Sang (and not secretly Wang Can), and how could I get KanSang from such a universe?

I derailed directly into Liu Sang & Li Cu are bros.

(warning, this (d)evolved into a kinda fic as I was rambling.)

-

We begin with “Wang Can is the younger half brother of Liu Sang”, top it off with a bit of “evil step mother who was willing to burn her step son alive in an attempt to frame him for attempted murder gone wrong clearly belongs to a crazy death cult and was secretly a Wang operative the whole time, so when she and her husband died the Wang Clan swooped in to pick up the free orphans freshly traumatised kids ripe for brainwashing indoctrination into their cult clan.”

So now we have Liu Wang Can, who was raised by a woman who was already preparing him to join the Wang Clan, and Liu Sang who, because I need him to have a reason to firmly resist the Wang's Anti-Zhang propaganda, is from the Worship False Idols universe. (Which is to say: Liu Sang was rescued from human traffickers by Zhang Qiling before he moved in with his estranged father and wicked stepmother.)

Wang Can dives headfirst into the clan and evil assassin training, while Liu Sang keeps his head down because: where else can he go? His brother is here, he has no one left to turn to, and this clan is out for his ouxiang. Liu Sang chooses to stay so he can learn everything about the man who saved him, and more? importantly: about the clan who plan to hurt the man who'd saved him.

Everyone assumes Wang Can is the more terrifying “twin”. They're wrong.

Liu Sang has to watch as his brother strips away his own humanity despite Liu Sang's best efforts.

And then comes Li Cu.

Liu Sang would laugh if his brother's poor reaction to having a crush wasn't so... horrifying. He's not even sure Wang Can has realised his increased brutality and douchebaggery are attempts to show off for Li Cu.

As a big brother, Liu Sang thinks it might be his responsibility to explain some things before Li Cu kills Wang Can in self-defense, so he tracks down the new comer at one of the out door firing ranges while Li Cu's taking a break.

(Liu Sang hates the firing ranges, they always give him sensory overload, then Wang Can has to go out on extra dangerous missions just to prove they're useful and Wang Liu Sang isn't a burden, because like hell is he ever going to tell them just how much he can hear. They, because they're always considered as a unit, because both of them cling a little too much to one another. There's a reason they can't shake the foul rumours about their relationship, they're both too possessive.)

He remembers to make noise loud enough for a normal person to hear before he gets within striking distance, finds a nice crunchy leaf and crushes it under foot to get Li Cu's attention. Li Cu's first reaction almost makes Liu Sang laugh out loud.

“The hell did you do to your hair?!”

Because Liu Sang's hair has always had more red than Wang Can's, and they wear it differently. He doesn't stop the smirk though, tosses Li Cu a candy bar (technically contraband while off mission) and waits to see how long it takes Li Cu to realise he's not Wang Can.

It takes a few less sentences than Liu Sang hoped for Li Cu to cotton on, but still long enough for it to be funny.

They don't become friends, but they certainly aren't enemies, and they aren't nothing to each other.

Almost something like friends maybe.

Liu Sang reminds Li Cu not to lose himself to the Wang Clan, because they're very good at acting nice, at choosing just the right person to send to get under your skin. Every person you trusted in the Wang Clan was another way they had to get you to do what they wanted.

Liu Sang getting close to Li Cu ends up riling Wang Can, who can't figure out which of them he's more jealous about, so the higher ups send Liu Sang off on a mission.

“Only a week or two.”

Liu Sang says goodbye to Li Cu on his way out.

“Do ever think about leaving the Wangs?” Li Cu wants to know. “Just, go missing in the middle of a mission on not look back?”

“My brother's here,” Liu Sang tells him. Because the Wangs know how to use connections, and if they'd ever sent both brothers out together, Liu Sang would have given in to the temptation to run away years ago. To drag his brother back to some semblance of humanity and not the murder puppet the Wangs had turned him into.

-

Liu Sang returns to a compound devoid of life, the secret regrouping call had gone out, he knows where he's supposed to go but there's a terrible weight sitting in his chest as he walks through the building. The poisonous gas no longer a threat, he can see where the infiltrators' bodies would have been.

They'd taken their own dead and left the Wangs to rot.

He'd have found it funny if his brother hadn't been one of the corpses.

Liu Sang can't hear himself screaming over the ringing in his ears, his world falling apart at the seams. He'd kept himself together through the hell of the Wangs by focusing on trying to take care of his brother.

Who is he if he's not Wang Can's gege?

His brother is dead, and he knows exactly whose fault it is.

There's a grenade pin by his brother's corpse, and explosive damage by on of the vents, and the Wangs had made his brother such a good little soldier.

Liu Sang thinks of the man with the tattoo who'd saved him from one hell only to leave him to another. The man the Wangs hated more than any other.

He has no path forward but one. Liu Sang takes the information he'd gathered painstakingly through the years in secret, always too afraid to use it, and heads to the meeting location.

When his is the only heartbeat left there, he goes to find every safe house and backup location left.

He tracks down every member of the Wangs he can find and ensures no one loyal lives.

And then he's left back where he was. Alone. No idea what to do next.

-

Li Cu thinks he's hallucinating the first time he sees Liu Sang across the street.

To be fair, he hadn't even been sure it was him, Liu Sang had vanished almost as Li Cu was noticing him.

He'd never mentioned Liu Sang to Wu Xie and the others, it hadn't felt right. Liu Sang wasn't a Wang, not really. He'd taken the name, the tattoo, but unlike his brother, Liu Sang had still hung on to his old name, a secret Liu Sang had only shared once when he'd been tired enough to be tipsy.

Now Liu Sang was here, and obviously wanted to talk to Li Cu judging by how often Li Cu caught him watching. Liu Sang had apologised more than once for Wang Can's poor social skills, but Liu Sang's weren't exactly up to par either, unless they were being directly compared to his brother's.

So Li Cu makes himself available, waits in the cold, dark night for Liu Sang to appear from nowhere. And by cold, dark night, Li Cu means he takes to haunting a quiet table at a street food vendor while he tries to study.

Liu Sang sits down across from him with food, and they just share the table for a while, eating, studying, waiting.

From up close Liu Sang looks terrible, and not for the first time since Wu Xie had raided the Wang base, Li Cu wonders what happened to Liu Sang.

“Sorry about your brother,” Li Cu doesn't realise he's going to say it out loud until it's already out of his mouth. It seems like the kind of thing he should be saying though.

Liu Sang freezes, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, a clump of rice drops back onto his plate.

“You don't have to lie about it,” Liu Sang says at last, “I think part of me always knew we weren't both leaving.” He puts his chopsticks down and looks a little lost. “Sometimes, I wonder I there was ever anything in him that I could have saved.”

“Not by the end,” Li Cu says, and there's a look of realisation on Liu Sang's face, and Li Cu gets the feeling Liu Sang knows now that Li Cu had been there when Wang Can had pulled the pin from the grenade.

They sit in silence so long, Li Cu wonders if he should go back to his food or his textbook, but then Liu Sang finally starts talking again.

“I actually, tracked you down to ask...” Liu Sang looks like he'd rather swallow razors, “for a favour. From you. I want to ask you to do me a favour.”

Of all the things Li Cu expects to follow, learning tattoo artistry is not one of them. It takes months before Liu Sang is happy with Li Cu's skills, by which time Li Cu has long stopped asking why Liu Sang doesn't just go to a proper tattoo artist.

He doesn't ask where Liu Sang got the equipment, or how he'd managed to get the studio for an entire day, he doesn't know if he wants an answer or not.

Li Cu knows that Liu Sang already has a tattoo, all the Wang Clan members had had one, a phoenix on the back of their right shoulders that only showed in the heat. Li Cu had been not far off having to get one as well, something that had repulsed him so deeply he'd been shaken by the depth of it.

His back had already been mutilated, like hell he'd let anyone else mark him against his will again.

(He hates that he suddenly understands why Liu Sang had gotten him to learn to tattoo.)

To his surprise, there's also an unfinished tattoo across Liu Sang's chest, and it looks vaguely familiar to Li Cu.

“Qilin?” He thinks he knows why.

Liu Sang nods, and turns his back so Li Cu can press a hot cloth against his shoulder. Once the phoenix is visible, Li Cu places the stencil carefully so it aligns just right then readies the tools while they wait for the phoenix to vanish from sight.

Li Cu has only been practicing for a few months, so he's not very fast, but he makes sure the lines are steady, that the shading is right.

It takes all day, and they won't be able to check the cover up has worked for another few days, but in the end Li Cu is confident no amount of heat will let the phoenix show through the multi-tailed fox he's inked onto Liu Sang's shoulder.

-

Before they part ways again, Li Cu pulls Liu Sang into what is probably the world's most awkward hug, and makes sure he has Li Cu's contact information.

“At least let me know you're alive every once in a while, yeah?” Because Li Cu already knows Liu Sang's leaving.

Liu Sang nods, but Li Cu isn't really expecting much.

Three days later he gets a picture of a town sign from an unfamiliar number, accompanied by the words: Not Dead Yet.

-

Liu Sang keeps in contact, more than Li Cu thought he would, not that he minds. Except that Liu Sang has a strange penchant for meerkat memes and keeps being weirdly funny at the worst possible times.

Like a few years later when Li Cu learned Liu Sang was on a job with Erbai's crew after Liu Sang sent him a text, which caused Li Cu to snort his drink through his nose and all over his freshly complete collage homework.

Help! He's a Himbo! My One True Weakness!

[zealouswerewolfcollector]

Chronicles of Grief

2392 words, T

Warnings: Discussion of character death, grief/mourning

Minor Russingon, though you can easily read it as friendship only

On Ao3

Russandol,

I do not know why I am writing this if I am not going to send it. I will not risk a messenger for a personal letter. Perhaps I will send it with a bird. Perhaps I will keep it in the hope of handing it to you when I see you. In the hope that I will see you…

You must already know what happened. I should have known it the moment I was told he had ridden away. I must have known, but I did not believe it. It is still hard to believe. I am sitting on his throne, his crown on my head, and I cannot believe it.  

How long did it take you to accept that your father was… gone? You see? I cannot even bring myself to say the word. In the letters I have deemed safe to send I wrote lost, fallen, gone, but I cannot bear to write de

I apologize. I should not have mentioned your father. You did not even have time to mourn him. I have become inconsiderate in my grief. Perhaps I will not show you this letter even if I do see you.

---

We had a small ceremony. It felt empty without the body to bury. Afterwards, Lalwen and I sat with Father’s closest friends and told increasingly gruesome war stories to each other to distract ourselves from pain.

I wish I could go to sleep and wake up a decade later. I know it would not change much (if anything, it would make things worse), but I intensely wish for oblivion.

Forgive me for the grim words. I am trying to find something positive in this (I can see you shaking your head at me). I am trying to tell myself that Father will rest in the Halls, that he might return to Mother. I am trying to tell myself that we are strong enough to survive this, to come out stronger from this, but it does not help, Russandol. It does not help at all.

---

I am king now, it seems. How ludicrous. The blame lies with you, you know? Of course, you do. I am king now, and I cannot lock myself in my chamber and reread your letters over and over again as I long to do.

There are so many things I should take care of, so many new responsibilities. I have been the lord of my own keep, but this is entirely different. I wonder if I can do this. I am not my father. I cannot be my father.

Why did he go and left me alone with this? Why could he not wait? I am… I suppose I can tell you. I am so angry, Russandol. Angry with him for doing it, for not thinking about me. Angry with the Enemy, with the Valar, with your father. Angry with myself.

---

I am going to confess something. I feel relieved that I have not seen the body. I know that the Lord of the Eagles would have taken it to somewhere safe, maybe to my brother, and in my heart, I am grateful that it wasn’t me he chose. I would not want to see him like that, not my father. I want to remember him as I last saw him – strong and full of life. Do you think it makes me a coward? Oh, I know your answer. You are not trustworthy when it comes to my flaws.  

---

I keep waiting. Not for him to return, not for this to be a nightmare, but for an end. An end to what – I cannot say. I would welcome any.

All we have built is falling apart, but I cannot bring myself to care. The world could break this very moment, and I would only shrug. No, worse. I would embrace it. I find myself thinking about it, wanting it. No, not wanting. I am not sure I am capable of wanting anything anymore. I would not mind it if it happened, that is all.

Do you see now? Do you see how unfit I am to bear the crown? If not, I will tell you something more horrifying. I hear about all those deaths. So many Elves and Men. Our cousins, my friends, my close friends. Do you know how it feels? Comforting. I feel comforted that I am not the only one going through this pain. Now, at least, can you see? What kind of a king does that make me? What kind of a person does that make me?

I cannot do this, Russandol. I cannot be a good king. I do not even want to try to be one. You are the only one I can admit this to. Please, do not judge too harshly. No. Judge as harshly as I deserve.

---

It is like living in a house with one wall gone. Gone forever, not to be replaced. You are no longer shielded from the wind and rain. Your home is no longer home.  

---

Sometimes I revisit the memories of the moments before I received the news. They are not good memories, full of uncertainty, pain, blood, and my friends dying one by one in front of my eyes. And yet, they bring comfort because at least my father was still alive then, I still had hope, I still had him to rely on even after such heavy losses.

I would give so much to have him back. It frightens me how much I would give.

---

I should have known disaster was going to strike. I had been so happy lately. We had had peace for long years, the Edain had come to their own, and I was free to wander. And if my wanderings often led me to you, I was the happier for it. I should have known it could not last. I had dared to forget we were cursed.

Everything feels different, Russandol. Everything is different. I do not think I will experience joy ever again. My joy will always lack something.

I keep talking about my own pain, but the truth is I do not care about it. Despite my anger, I do not care that he will not be here for me. I only care that he will not be here. Do you understand the difference?

Perhaps there is none, and I am only trying not to appear selfish. It is hard to tell sometimes.

---

I am still so angry. I have surges of violent thoughts. I want to rage against this unfairness, this injustice. I want to break the chairs, I want to sweep off the dishes from the table, I want to scratch the walls. It is so unfair! It should not have happened. He should not have done that.

I go and practice with the sword to let the anger out, but it does not help. I am powerless against the natural order of things, against the unchangeable and cruel finality of it.

---

I was passing by the kitchens the other day, and I heard the cooks sing. It was Snow upon the Taniquetil; my father loved that song. I joined in from afar, and halfway through the song, I noticed that I was trying to imitate my father’s voice. I stopped then. It was a poor imitation. It was not even close.

What am I supposed to do, Russandol? How am I supposed to replace him? His absence is felt so deeply, and not just by me. If only you could see Lalwen… You would not recognize her. The bold and merry aunt we know is gone. She is a shadow of her former self. I have never seen her like that. Not even after Grandfather died.

How can I help her, Russandol? How can I be what my father was for her? I cannot, I know I cannot, no matter how hard I try.

---

Everything reminds me of him. I had never thought about how many of my memories are connected to him. Even something as simple as brushing my hair or riding my horse makes me think of him.

It is only natural, of course; he was my father. And yet, I find myself astonished to discover just how much he has shaped me, how great a role he has played in making me what I am, how entrenched he is in every aspect of my life from my mannerisms to my habits and preferences.

I hear his voice sometimes, I hear his laughter. I go somewhere, say something, and I know for certain how he would respond. I hear it with perfect clarity, and I almost want to reach out and touch him, let myself lean against him as I used to do when I was younger.

I miss him. It is unbearable.

---

My father used to say sometimes that when this was over, he was going to leave the governing to us, youngsters, and go live on the seashore in a small house he would build for himself. I laughed, convinced that he was joking.

The other day I found drawings in his chamber. Drawings of a house. It was truly a small one, but in his nearly illegible handwriting, he had scribbled my name and the names of my siblings over the chambers. He had reserved one for each of us and another for Itarillë.

He never got to have that, Russandol. Isn’t that so terribly unfair? He was kind and strong, and he had tried to be the best father he could be for us. And he did not live to achieve his dream.

---

Time has lost all meaning. Sometimes I remember last summer’s feast my father held or that time just a month before the firefall we rode in Ard-galen with Aunt Lalwen and a small company (Angaráto and Aikanáro came to join us, and we spent a few nights under the stars), and it seems like it has just happened, it seems impossible that most of the people who were there are no more, that my father, larger than life, is gone, all his hopes and dreams are gone. He seems so alive, so present.

When I think back to the first days after his death, I am surprised I survived them. It still seems unthinkable to go on when you have lost someone so important. At times, it seems it happened so long ago that I cannot believe it has been only several months. And yet, I feel that a part of me is still there, locked within those terrible moments, reliving them over and over again. That part of me will always stay there.

---

Sometimes I wonder if I could have done something. If I could have stopped him. If I could have saved him. I wonder what I could have done differently to change the outcome. It is a futile exercise that does nothing but bring me more grief, but I cannot stop.

Sometimes I wish I could have gone back to the moment he rode out and stop him. I would stand before him and beg him to stay. I would scream at him that he was condemning himself to certain death. But he knew that already, didn’t he? He knew. Even if I could have stopped him, something else would go horribly wrong, I am sure of it. We are cursed, after all.

---

I still feel rage at times, but it is calmer, mellower, not the all-consuming fury it used to be. I sit at a council and feel the urge to throw the goblet I hold upon the wall, to see it break. I watch myself doing it, but distantly, as if it is a different person wearing my face, while I am calmly conversing with my court.  

Is this how it is going to be, Russandol? Will I slowly learn to accept it, to live with it? To live without him. It is not what I want. It feels like a betrayal.

I laugh sometimes, I make decisions, I keep on living, and it too seems a betrayal. I am wrong to feel this way, but I cannot help it. I look at his portrait – smiling, he wanted the artist to paint him smiling, so when one day Itarillë came to visit, she (a full-grown woman she already was at the moment the painting was made, mind you) would not be scared – I look at it, and I smile back, and I tear up, and I hear him scold me for these thoughts, and still I cannot help it.

---

Will you believe that I have not cried yet? I cannot do it. There are moments when I feel I will break down, when my eyes fill with tears, and my chest constricts with the wretched pain of loss, but they last seconds, and I get myself under control again.

I try to work myself into exhaustion, so I will fall into a deep sleep and not have to think, but I lie in my bed wide awake and think of him dying alone. It makes me want to scream, but I am afraid that if I start, I will never stop.

Perhaps I could weep if you were here. Perhaps I could break in the safety of your embrace. Perhaps I could afford to be fragile and vulnerable if only you were to see me. Oh, how I wish you could come. I am barely stopping myself from asking you. I know that if I sent this, you would be battling with the same desire, but of course, your good judgment would prevail.

---

I have to end this letter one day, but I have no idea how. I still hurt, I will always hurt, I still think of him every single day. There are days I still feel angry, there are days I still cannot believe it, there are days I feel exhausted and incapable of doing anything. But there are also days I am able to remember him without the accompanying piercing pain.

Maybe there will come a time when those days grow greater in number, and I will be able to smile when my thoughts inevitably turn to him. Until then, I will try to do my best and keep living and hoping to see you safe and sound.

Yours,

Findekáno

[skipppppy]

I’m so fascinated by your she ra fan character! I’m trying to understand the storyline but it’s a little hard to find everything, and I was wondering if you would mind explaining it here?

Thank you very much! Her story is SUPER convuluted, I elaborated on it a bit on another ask about her relationship with Entrapta, but I’ll try to sum it up as cleanly as possible but a lot of different factors come into play so it still might be LOOONNGG. It’s also not a very happy story, unfortunately, but it would be helpful for me to get it all written down!

In terms of things that might be triggering, her backstory involves mention of a wide range of abuse. It won’t be explicit but I just want to be safe!

I’m actually gonna put most of it under the cut for the sake of anyone who follows me or any tags so they aren’t cursed with a mile long post on their timeline. I know the pain 😅

So here it is! I present A COMPREHENSIVE TIMELINE OF ALL THE BULLSHIT ARIA HAD TO PUT UP WITH!!!!

-For background context, she’s a Wingfolk, a species of Bird People native to Etheria who live in a kingdom built into a forest of giant trees named Ornithia. I could go on about them for hours but all you really need to know is that they have hollow bones to achieve flight (which is also the case for real life birds), which makes Aria’s body very light and frail. So she’s basically useless in physical combat which is why she never really defends herself. She was also a particularly weak flyer, which is why she doesn’t avoid a lot of situations by simply flying away.

-EXTRA BACKGROUND CONTEXT, Aria was born around the time the Horde landed on Etheria. Her father was a sorcerer at Mystacor, who had a reputation for ignoring ethics in the name of science. This all came to a head when a meteorite struck the surface of the planet; he rushed to the sight, stole it, studied it for a while, and after learning it had a powerful magic, decided to try a ritual in which he extracted the magic from the meteorite and fused it with his daughter’s soul. It took a few years for people to find out but when they did he was exiled for his actions, and Aria, still a child, was given to her mother.

-ONE MORE SMALL DETAIL: from about the age of 18/19 onward, she started having dreams about a mysterious figure made of blinding light who knew secrets about the universe and promised to find her one day so they could “finally be together again.” 3 guesses who THAT is lmao (hint: it’s Horde Prime)

-I won’t go into details about her childhood because we’d be here forever but the most important things you need to know are 1) Aria’s mother was a HORRIBLE parent and preferred to get blackout drunk rather than look after her children. 2) Aria had 4 younger brothers who, due to her mother’s negligence, she had to raise entirely by herself, which is why she feels responsible over others and has such a “nurturing” disposition, it was forced on her. 3) She took her brothers and ran away from Ornithia when she was 15, and built a home in a small woodland in the mountains of Dryl where she has lived ever since. 4) Throughout her childhood she befriended Princess Entrapta and the two were extremely close due to their isolated upbringings.

-When the BFS visited Dryl for the first time in Season 1, Aria was there acting as both a lab assistant and royal advisor to Entrapta, and joined the rebellion alongside her. Nothing crazy happened, but when Entrapta “died” Aria was beside herself with grief and ended up leaving the rebellion in order to go tend to Dryl, since it needed a ruler and as advisor it was her job to step up and take responsibility. Unlike the others, however, she refused to return to aid in the battle of Brightmoon, since she was kinda miffed at how the Princesses treated Entrapta (lookin’ at you, leash lady Perfuma) and was thoroughly pissed that they didn’t even TRY to go back for her, even if it was just to find her body and give her a dignified burial.

-Season 2 was when things truly went to shit. When the Horde came to claim Dryl, Aria resisted but was defeated pretty easily. When Glimmer and Bow came to scout out the situation, they saw her being hauled away and tried to save her but basically got caught in a stalemate where they couldn’t act because the Horde threatened to harm Entrapta if they acted. They told Aria to go with the Horde and promised that they would form a rescue party to save the both of them. But after they learned that Entrapta had joined the Horde by choice and had more important missions to deal with, rescuing her just..stopped being a priority. She wasn’t a rebel so they had no obligation to get her, so eventually they forgot about her entirely.

-Aria was kept as a prisoner for a while, but Entrapta found out pretty quickly what happened and went to find her. At that point Catra was growing frustrated with all the menial paperwork she had to do, and since she’d had experience being an advisor/secretary type, Entrapta basically proposed to Hordak that Aria act as his assistant in the same way she used to at Dryl. He accepted since it meant he would be spending less time running the Horde and more time building the portal. Aria was against the idea of helping him since she was still holding out hope that the rebels would come save her, but she was simply threatened with the classic Evil Horde punishments (torture, more torture, being locked in a cell for weeks without food or water, a tad more torture). So from mid-Season 2 to the end of Season 4, that was pretty much the position she was in. Being the Fright Zone’s resident desk jockey.

-Not much happened in that timespan, most of what occurred revolved around the portal incident and the aftermath. While Aria had been playing the part of Hordak’s pretty little secretary she was trying to find weak points in the Fright Zone’s security system so she could bust her and Entrapta out of there. Due to her and Hordak building the portal (and smooching lol) she’d been spending less and less time with Aria, which had been making her a little upset. She felt like someone she’d spent her entire life caring for was replacing her for something better, but her suspicions weren’t confirmed until she asked Entrapta about leaving together and she refused. That was the first small nudge towards a downward spiral. Then Catra returned with Adora and the Sword in hand and the Princesses came to stop the Portal. The rebels had come to save Adora and forgot about her. She was willing to forgive and join them, until they saw that she had been assisting the Horde, assumed she had betrayed them alongside Entrapta, and decided to leave her behind without giving her a chance to explain herself. That was the second, slightly stronger nudge that made her teeter over the edge of a breakdown. And then Catra told her that Entrapta had abandoned her to rejoin the rebels. While it was a lie, it was perfectly placed salt in the wound, and the straw that broke the camels back into her shifting allegiance and properly joining the Horde.

-Throughout Season 4 she had the same role as before, except this time she actually cared about her work, and had taken on the additional role of helping Hordak with his busted tech since Entrapta wasn’t around to do it. He had already come to rely on Aria for paperwork, but now she was helping him with his machines and they had a shared trauma over being “abandoned” by someone they cared deeply for. She was literally filling the void Entrapta left, and in a way they started to care for each other. Aria, being a hopeless romantic who had read about a trillion love stories about gentle protagonists who healed the evil monster men with their kindness, took to him like a moth to a flame and happily played the role of “the next best thing” against her better judgement. It wasn’t really a healthy relationship, but they did genuinely care for each other and found comfort in one another’s presence.

-It didn’t last, however. Catra was vaguely aware of the “thing” they had, and while she was indifferent for the most part, she was dealing with a downward spiral of her own, and she slowly became paranoid that Aria would distract him from completing their plans. In her poor, burnt out kitty cat frame of mind, the only way to deal with the situation was to get rid of her. So, deciding to kill 2 birds with one stone, she told Hordak that Aria had been jealous of his relationship with Entrapta, and SHE had been the one to send her to beast island. And Hordak believed her.

-I won’t go into detail about what happened after that, because it was VERY GRUESOME! We all saw how Hordak reacted when he found out what Catra had done in the original show. Now remember when I mentioned that Aria has hollow bones that made her incredibly frail and physically incapable of defending herself? Yeah. It was not pretty. Hordak wasn’t completely at fault, since he thought his anger was warranted, but by the time he’d learnt the truth and realised his mistake she was dead. In the space between the incident and learning what really happened he’d thrown her in the abandoned black garnet chamber with no food or water and basically left her to rot. He was EXTRA mad at Catra for pulling that with him, but he didn’t have time to grieve since he, Glimmer, Catra, and Aria’s lifeless corpse were beamed up into Horde Prime’s flagship.

-When Prime initially found her she was still dead. However, remember the healing magic that came from the mysterious meteorite that had now fused with her soul? Spoiler alert! It belonged to him. The meteorite was one of his most prized possessions, and the dreams Aria had been having were the magic’s attempts at trying to establish a connection with him across dimensions. (the meteorite was somewhat sentient. This is perfectly normal and well thought out writing I swear) And being reunited caused a huge surge of magical energy that resuscitated her, allowing Prime’s clones to give her some much needed medical help.

-After being pretty much comatose for 2 weeks Aria finally woke up, and was finally able to speak with Prime in person. When she found out that the “mysterious figure” from her dreams who had promised to find her was REAL and had just saved her life, she basically just latched onto him. She was, understandably, TRAUMATISED from the last 2 or so years of her life, so she was too scared to go anywhere else or trust anyone, so Prime didn’t even have to try to win her allegiance. He was also very happy to have his meteorite back, even if it now had a mortal body with skin and a face and a slew of emotional baggage. So she spends most of Season 5 being showered in love and affection by Prime and all her attendants, eventually being crowned Empress. While Prime was unequivocally evil and Aria was aware of that, he mostly sheltered her from what he was doing, in fear that her loyalty to him might falter. Maybe in a fun au she could’ve convinced him to leave Etheria alone so they could be together for longer, but alas, it was not to be.

-In the aftermath of the Heart being destroyed and Prime being killed, her downward spiral returned and shifted into OVERDRIVE. The people who had abandoned and neglected her took her one safe person away from her and they were being hailed as heroes for it. While she now knew that Entrapta had never abandoned her and was instead sent to beast island, seeing her get a happy ending with the man who had, to be quite blunt, physically abused and assaulted her, shattered any part of their friendship that might have been recoverable. She retreated into herself, taking over Horde Prime’s role as ruler over the Clones. She turned the Velvet Glove into their new home, trying to be civil with the other Princesses but eventually descended into a cold, bitter, vindictive Empress who ended up making terrible decisions as a cry for help.

-I’m still undecided on what to do with her after her fun villain arc, but I do know that in the aftermath she’d probably either step down from the throne so she could properly heal from her trauma, or work with her clones to fix up Prime’s flagship and get as far away from Etheria as possible and find peace in a new life away from everything that hurt her. I may also bring back Horde Prime from the dead through my sheer will to ignore canon so they can be together, since they are for all intents and purposes, soulmates. And I don’t think it would be very fair to let my poor hopeless romantic who just wants to be loved lose her handsome prince forever. I think it would be sexy if I committed necromancy I think.

ANYWAY...THAT WAS A HEFTY READ..SORRY IT WAS SO LONG, BUT THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! I CAN COME BACK TO THIS FOR REFERENCE NOW

TLDR: babygirl has had it ROUGH

[realisaonum]

book meme

thank you, jen @det395​ !! i feel like this meme got away from me a bit, but no shame! i love talking about books and writing so onward ~under the cut~

1- how many books are too many books in a series? 

mhmmmmm i guess it depends on the objective of the series, right? is the plan to have x number of books in the series and if so, when we finally get to the end will it be satisfying considering all the books we’ve read leading up to it? OR is the objective of the premise / characters just to exist doing whatever? both can be done well. i would say a lot rides on how much i trust the author.

2- what do you think about cliffhangers?

so this is meant for cliffhangers in a series like between books? i don’t really care if there’s a cliffhanger as long as i have the next book sitting right next to me. otherwise uh, only if the wait between books is tolerable, because at that point you need to know that the author can clear this mess up, right? there’s this other thing, like you know how if the entire series was already written, then they might release the books a month apart or a quarter apart - that could be alright too. but years in between? not especially a fan. is anyone a fan?

3- hardback or paperback?

jen, you and me are complete opposites here. paperbacks stress me out. i will go out of my way to buy a used hardcover if given the choice. of course, there are some publications i don’t mind in paperback —thinking poetry and super indie books that don’t have a hardcover release OR books where the spines are thin enough they won’t break and i won’t be holding them long enough for them to wear. hardcovers are sturdy and i don’t have to worry i’ll accidentally bend the cover in some damaging way. I am invested in keeping my books nice to the point that i create covers for my books out of kraft paper or brown grocery bags while i am reading them. this is something i started when i was in college and didn’t want these books i was hoping to probably resell get thrashed coming in and out of my bag for all these classes. My home library is probs more half and half paperback/hardcover but if given a choice usually it’s hardcover.

4- least favourite book?

i think it’s good to at least attempt to meet a book on its level. there are lots of books i didn’t like, but i wasn’t meeting them on their level and i know that so we’re ignoring those. i do however have a shelf on my goodreads dedicated to books that i have beef with so i’ll just go off on two of them.....

tana french’s the likeness for being plagiaristic shit. it is essentially poorly concealed alternate universe OC insert fic of the secret history. you’ve got french’s dublin murder squad folks and then this group they are investigating who bear a STRIKING resemblance to the greek students in tsh 🤔. this would be one thing. it is pretty well acknowledged that nothing is original and there are enough changes to The Likeness that MAYBE i could let it slide if not for this other thing: french’s book, the likeness, has lines that are just basically reworded quotes from the secret history and french positions these lines so they are said by the counterpart (essentially same!) character that gave them original life in tsh. i cannot stress this enough: you can HEAR how similar the sentences are and their core intent is always the same. it’s thinly veiled theft! it astounds me that French hasn’t been sued frankly. it is one thing to want to capture some of the genius that tartt’s debut novel holds, but it is completely lazy and disgusting theft to go about it in the way French did with this book. and YES the secret history was published before french’s book. if i could stomach how fucking goddamn boring the likeness was to read it a second time and cite every one of these offenses i would, but that’s yet a third strike against it—it’s too boring to be worth it. 

T. Kingfisher’s second book of the Clocktuar War duology : The Wonder Engine. this is a book that i feel violated the contract between writer and reader. the first book feels almost like a YA book. the stakes while described as very high are treated, as actions unfold, as very low. nothing truly irreparable happens until the climax of the second book and the fallout of that action is so off-tone of everything that came before i felt deeply betrayed. no, like, completely betrayed as in it ruined the rest of my afternoon, i am still viscerally angry eight months later, and i will never trust this author again. sure, maybe none of those actions that led to the climax were out-of-character, but there was nothing NOTHING in the proceeding action that even came close to that level of consequence. it’s a pity because right up till that point i was having a really good time. the entire vibe of the rising action to the climax of book one all the way through the rising action of book two was just a quippy fun version of roadtrip/quest - it felt like a comfort read. the abrupt tone shift had all the subtlety of dropping a graphically, brutal murder into Blue’s Clues. you don’t do that - this is a basic tenet of a writer / reader relationship. i’m not touching this bitch’s shit again.

5- Love Triangle, yes or no?

not so much. i like jen before me will scream ‘just be poly.’ love triangles that lead into poly relationships? yes, awesome will be glad i read. but i am at a stage in my life where your standard will-they-won’t-they-love-triangle is just fucking pointlessly frustrating to me. an example: i read a Nic Stone’s book Odd One Out a couple years ago and something about the synopsis or the hype made me think that it would resolve the love triangle that way, so when that did not happen i was incredibly frustrated and immediately wanted to resell the book. it’s the potential of the thing. stone’s book could have been the perfect vehicle for opening up the concept of polyamory to a ya audience but instead just really squandered that potential with weak floundering — in my opinion!

6- the most recent book you just couldn’t finish

uhhhhh i’ve got two and i’m not sure i’ve entirely given up quite yet buuuuuuuut 

fucking dune. i got really pissed off with this book. So just…setting aside the whole vaguing at a pedophilically inclined queer coded villain - it’s done so poorly, that it's almost funny? like it doesn’t (as of half way through) actually have any consequence on…anything at all and is tacked on like an afterthought to the end of his scenes. honestly it all could just be cut out entirely with no recourse to the larger story. So my actual beef with this book is the pacing is ATROCIOUS. like yo, not only do you expect me to give a shit about these Atreides cunts, when we just met them and we spend the same amount of time with them IF NOT MORE with the antagonist? but you also expect me to believe Paul was able to just convince the leader of the Arrakis people —the leader of an entire planet!!— with a single fucking sentence??? yeah, not so much. it was not set up for me to believe that Paul could do that! maybe if Kynes hadn’t died immediately after—or at least not died at that moment? baring the fact I thought he was by far the most interesting character, IF he had been convinced by Paul in that scene, it would have been great to see some actual work done around that - with a transfer or a liaise of power between Kynes and Paul and the Fremen. By not having any substantive scene that does it - it begs the question of what the fuck was the point of the character in the first place? unplumbed potential!!! over all there seem to be some key scenes missing to get the reader to where the narrative expects us to be? but the choices made of the characters we spend time with and the moments we see with them, the benefit to the larger story…is not always there. hey herbert, these words you have written aren’t doing what you want them to?? i feel like i should finish it but i reaaaaallly don’t want to :) the only thing i can say is it looks like from the trailer, villeneueve is giving space to these moments so that the viewer can foster a genuine connection with the characters? radical concept.

our lady of perpetual hunger - i started this one optimistically bc i like chef memoirs, but i am at the point where she has just given birth to her son and honestly DON’T CARE. i still haven’t officially given up on it yet since i actually fucking bought it like a dope. i certainly would not have if i knew how much NOT about working the line this was gonna be

7- book you are currently reading

Aside from the failures mentioned above, I am working on the second book in B. Catling’s Vorrh trilogy, The Erstwhile. Also very close to finally finishing Iain Sinclair’s The Last London - there’s a review of his work from the LA Times that goes “One of Sinclair’s greatest skills has always been his ability to take diverse if not chaotic source material and refashion it in a way that sometimes seems downright alchemical” which captures some of the wonder I experience when reading his work. His style and how he creates atmosphere and setting is just unique and astounding.

8- last book you recommended to someone

The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Before that I told my brother to read Eat a Peach, as we both love Anthony Bourdain and David Chang talks about him a bit here, plus it’s just a fucking great book. any book that gives insight into Chang’s methodology and paradigm is worth a shot.

9- oldest book you read

I think it might have to be Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (which apparently according to wiki premiered on the stage a whole four months before Hamlet so that’s what we’re going with) and if plays don’t count, I don’t care. I think they count and that’s what we’re going with.

10- the most recent book you read ?

Given the previous question, the most recently published book, right? It’s gotta be the one I just finished: The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic - Revised and Expanded edt., which like just came out this summer. I watched Jessica Hopper’s promo zoom, curtesy of my local indie bookstore, and went ahead and bought it. This was a great decision! It was just what I needed to read these last couple of weeks. i love there’s lots of short pieces that made the read quick and the fact that it’s non-fiction so there was no pressure of a plot or the emotional weight of character investment when I had a lot of big stressors dragging me down irl -it was such a relief. Hopper’s criticism is fun to read and there’s some real art in her appreciation of music here.

11- favourite author?

These are the top in a kind of order but not really: Donna Tartt, Jeff VanderMeer, Megan Whalen Turner, Flannery O’Conner, Chuck Palahniuk, Anthony Bourdain

Other faves very much worth mentioning: Emily O’Neill, Richard Siken, Brandon Sanderson, Warren Ellis, Nathan Englander, Stephen King, Eddie Huang, Carl Hiaassen, Anne Carson, and Iain Sinclair.

12- buying books or borrowing books?

Depends on if my library has it, of course! I nearly always see if my library has a copy first if i have never read it or the author before. If i’ve read the book before or trust the author, I’ll buy it. Like I’ll straight out buy new stuff from Jeff VanderMeer even though with him it’s either this-hits-exactly-and-is-my-new-fave or i-really-disliked-this-but-admire-the-boundaries-you’re-pushing-my-dude - so it’s always a gamble but a worthy one.

12- a book you dislike that everyone else seems to love

a little life (just bc it's torture porn elevated to art doesn’t negate the fact that it’s torture porn. Yanagihara’s project here is repugnant and the fact that this book is lauded as moving lgbt fiction makes my skin crawl)

sharp objects (good writing, compelling story, BUT typographical scarification doesn't work like that - i am not going to get into it but i know from first hand experience how Flynn described it is not accurate)

nesbø’s the snowman (what kinda dumbass detective would think THAT when a woman finds her missing father’s corpse? absolute idiocy - so obviously reverse engineered with that end in mind)

the raven cycle (fuck ronan lynch to start and then fuck him to end as well - there’s some other stuff but mostly he’s a total CUNT and if i don’t say that once a day i have probably died)

14 - bookmarks or dogears?

Bookmarks and sticky notes. Then I can place it pointing directly to the paragraph I last stopped on.

15- The book you can always reread?

This is my question because I reread all the time. ALL THE TIME. Books I reread often: The Secret History, Medium Raw (especially chapter 17 The Fury), Crooked Kingdom, The Violent Bear It Away, and The Goldfinch. Every year like clockwork (since it came out apparently) I will reread Stephen King’s The Outsider.

Other books I feel the urge to reread: VanderMeer’s Acceptance, Englander’s Dinner at the Center of the Earth, Frazier’s Nightwoods, Fresh Off the Boat, the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, the Peter Grant Series (which is queued up for another go here soon I think), any of the stories from A Good Man is Hard to Find, Sanderson’s Wax and Wayne Mistborn books, simon vs the homosapiens’ agenda, and there are two of Alan Morinis’ books on Mussar that I am technically always revisiting—when i need a reminder, i’ll jump around and read specific sections to get centered again.

16- can you read while listening to music?

Yes, but only ambient or near ambient (only usually one track on repeat) or a soundtrack I am extremely familiar with. No new music. I do usually need some audio stimulation or my mind will wander terribly.

17- one POV or multi POV?

Multi pov can certainly be done well (looking at the soc duaology and VanderMeer’s Acceptance) but working a multi-pov means there are more plates spinning, it’s more of a challenge, and some authors pull it off better than others.

18- do you read book in one sitting or in multiple days?

I don’t really do this anymore. that might have something to do with me picking up thicker books? but also i have a full time job now and let’s be real the book has to be hella good if i don’t want to put it down. the last book i attempted to shotgun was the final installment of my favorite series and it still took me two days so....i can get through a lot of books but none of them are ever in one sitting anymore.

19- who to tag:

@sybilius​ @mouth-rainboy​ @iwonderifthatisart​ @phereinnike​ @magnificentmoose​ @wambsgangs​ @moriarteaparty​ and anyone else if you feel so inclined!

Bonus Question: What’s on your to-read shelf? 

As for me, I am excited about one i just picked up, Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines, which i might start tomorrow and I will be taking Paul Madonna’s Come to Light on my trip to see my brother this coming weekend. 

[o-wise-corvid]

Chapter 2! Okay so I know how I’m just WALLOWING in the feels at this point but action is on the way. Cody’s Kids are gonna kick some butt in Chapter 3!! So endure the feels and look forward to Butt-kickin’ Babies soon. Oh and if you wanna be tagged, holler.

Warnings: night terrors/ survivor’s guilt/ PTSD/ anxiety/ mentions of parental death/ regrets about Order 66

People who were wanting more: @captainrexisboo @clonetrooperrights @koskareevesismyqueen @gospelofme @jgvfhl @ct-27-fives @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

Chapter Two: Of Nightmares

Eight months later...

“Buir.”

Cody opened one eye.

Rex was crouched down in front of him, his eyes seeming to slightly glow in the ambient light from the hallway. The boy gave his shoulder another rousing shake.

“What is it?” Cody asked, sleep thick in his throat and muscles as he raised up on elbow. He didn’t mind the kids coming to him, at any time, but just now, he’d been sleeping so uneventfully.

“Kali’s having a night terror.”

Cody was on his feet, pulling on the sade cloth robe Shriek had given him for Life Day, like a jolt of electricity had passed through him.

The others were at various positions around the larger group bedroom when he entered quietly. Soren was sitting beside Shriek, letting the smaller boy hold him around the waist. Gaia was sat on the floor beside the two of them, hands wrapped around one of Shriek’s dangling feet. Something about that kind of contact comforted the boy unlike anything else.

From her bunk, Kali gave a whimper and then, behind closed lips, her voice shot up into a high wail of terror and pain. Her skinny shoulders shook with muffled sobs, thick tears streaming down her face as her long fingers twisted her blanket and pillow into her fists. There was only one thing that could be done; someone would have to wake her.

He hated to pull Gaia away from the boy but Cody couldn’t protect himself the way she could if Kali had another episode. The situation with Kali and Shriek had been deceptive when they’d first arrived and everyone had thought that the boy was a weapon, an aberration in the Force that the Empire sought to twist to their purpose. And he was, but not in the way they’d all first assumed. Kali was the real danger between the two.

“Gaia.”

She sighed and rocked up onto her knees, hair hanging free around her face. “Don’t touch her before we’re ready,” she reminded him in a firm voice. Cody nodded as Gaia knee-walked her way across and then pulled him down by his wrists. “Slowly,” she warned. This wasn’t a new experience for either of them; Kali slipped into the terrors almost monthly but it was never any less traumatic. She could be woke without destroying the room but doing so would take care.

Gaia’s brows knit in concentration, a sensation filling the air in the room much like that before a lightning strike. Behind her, Soren and Shriek breathed in deeply and then out again, syncing up with the controlled rise and fall of Gaia’s chest. Rex, on Cody’s other side, placed a warding hand between Cody’s shoulders.

“Now,” he mouthed, eyes unfocused.

Cody reached for Kali’s hands, knowing if he didn’t act quickly, the kids might not be able to keep up their shields around him. He didn’t want a repeat of his first meeting with the young girl; phantom darts of that pain in his head still assailed him when he was overtired. Kali flinched at his touch, curling in on herself like she’d been kicked.

“Kali, girl,” Cody coaxed quietly. “Come on, little one. It’s us. We’re all here with you. It’s okay.”

“They’ve got Mommy.” Cody almost jumped at Rex’s voice, but this was part of the routine. Rex called it “venting the pressure”. The boy was staring somewhere across the room, eyes rolling back in his head disturbingly. His voice sounded... dead. “They’ve... got...”

“Daddy’s on the floor.” Soren gripped his own skull and rocked a little, wincing as the pain Cody knew all too well threatened to split it open. “He’s not getting up.”

“Kali, come on, baby. Wake up for me. Come on.” Cody scooped his arms around the little Twi’Lek, feeling her fight and kick at his touch. “Come on. It’s over.”

He felt her wake up rather than saw it. She gave a hard jerk in his arms as if she’d been thrown back into her body. The little girl started to push him away, but froze, sweeping her large yellow-green eyes over all the faces looking at her. Rex swayed, catching himself on the edge of Kali’s bunk. Soren heaved a groaning sigh of exhaustion, slumping against Shriek. The little boy, strong little man, braced the older Zabrak and patted his shoulder.

Kali made a relieved but wounded noise, hiding her face in her hands as she broke down and sobbed. Cody thought his chest might cave in as he pulled her close, the others clustering around, murmuring softly to each other. Rex and Soren clasped arms behind him, both looking shaken but the worst was over. This was one of the worst of Kali’s episodes and the entire group looked absolutely drained.

“I’m so tired,” Kali shuddered. “I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

Cody could feel her tears dropping onto his neck. “Baby, it’s not your fault,” he tried, not knowing what else to say.

Little, trembling fingers touched his temple. “You still hurt.”

Cody pulled back and caught her hand. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated, more firmly this time.

Kali’s eyes darted around to the others. “I’m so sorry!” she wailed.

“Kali, no!” Soren admonished sweetly, patting her on the head.

“Come on, Kali. It could be any of us. We all have nightmares.” Rex spoke gently, the tone sounding so very like his namesake.

“You thought you were protecting me. Remember?” Shriek slid his hand into Kali’s and gave it a squeeze.

“That’s what we do here.” Gaia braced herself on Cody’s shoulder, reaching down to wipe Kali’s cheeks dry. “We protect each other.”

Everyone smiled, looking around at the other tired but bright faces. This was their family, Cody thought with a little laugh.

“Okay, kids... let’s see if we can get a little more rest.”

Rex and Soren gave Cody a double, unbalancing hug from behind, Shriek kissed him on the cheek, and Gaia gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before she scooped up Shriek under the arms, tickling him until his buoyant giggles died away to soft murmurs of goodnight and sleep well.

“Can I come with you?” Kali whispered, hooking her hands around his neck.

Cody chuckled. “Sure.”

It wasn’t until he was crawling back into his own bed that Cody realized he had other company. It took some organization but somehow all six of them fit into the bed, all the legs and arms accounted for. Kali was tucked right into Cody’s chest, one of her arms curving around his side where Soren was holding her hand.

“Can... can I call you Papa?” she whispered. “Like Gaia does?”

“Absolutely, ad’ika,” Cody muttered, smiling despite the weariness that was refusing to let him care that Rex’s knee was pressing hard into the back of his neck.

“Okay. Papa,” she said, still sounding teary, but content.

Cody woke a few hours later with thick hair that couldn’t possibly be his own flopped over his face, and several sets of arms wrapped tight around his waist, arms and even one of his legs.

“G... Gaia.” He gingerly reached up and followed the hair covering his face until he found the head it was connected to and tapped it gently. “Gaia. Can you... help?”

Gaia made a sleepy noise, and then laughed quietly. He felt invisible hands gently unfold the skinny arms and small hands that seemed to have strapped him to the bed, followed by soft murmurs of the kids readjusting themselves to new sleeping positions.

She followed him into the kitchen, feet popping as she moved. “We’re going to do the simulation again today.” Gaia almost never questioned him about training ops anymore; she was so on top of everything herself that he had let her take over prepping for for the others.

Cody sighed, feeling the press of worry pull his shoulders down. “Yes.” He turned to her, hoping the concern on her face wasn’t for herself.

“You can’t interfere the way you did last time.”

He snorted. “Rend deserved more than what I gave him.”

She grinned, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe you tripped him into the garbage compactor.”

They both laughed. “Are you nervous about it?” he asked, looping an around around her shoulders. She had put on muscle, which filled Cody with both pride and a sense of loss. She was quickly abandoning the little girl who’d asked to call him “Papa” first and was starting to take on the mantle of adulthood.

“Not for us,” Gaia said with a wicked grin too much like something Obi-Wan might’ve worn, but it quickly fell. “I get nervous you won’t be able to hold back if something goes wrong. You have to let it go wrong.”

Cody curled the arm he had around Gaia’s shoulders inward and held her close. She leaned her head on his shoulder and squeezed his middle. “I am the least of your worries, little one.”

“Right.”

He had to laugh. “Force, child. My brothers would be cheering the mouth on you.”

She chuckled and then sighed. “I wish I’d known them.”

Cody swallowed, suddenly feeling as if his heart was swelling up into his throat. “So do I.” He angled his head so he could look at her. “They’d have loved you. All of you.”

“Rex?”

“Especially Rex.”

“We’ll get our lightsabers after this, won’t we?”

He nodded mutely.

“Will that... bother you?”

Cody leaned back again, eyeing her with confusion. “No. Why would it?” Gaia hesitated, dropping her gaze. “Come on, ad’ika. You can tell me.”

She sighed but didn’t look back up at him. “You used to dream loudly,” Gaia said finally. “You’d say ‘Jedi scum’ and then follow that up almost immediately with ‘Kenobi’.”

The warmth of that had inhabited the conversation was leeched away just that quickly. Cody slumped back against the counter a little with a regretful sigh. “Kenobi... Obi-Wan Kenobi was a friend of mine. We fought in the Clone Wars together.”

Gaia slid away a little, but kept a hand on his arm. She was so good at that, knowing when to be close and when to back off.

“He was the Jedi General that my unit served under. He was brave, noble... an absolute dramatic.” The last word came out with a chuckle on its tail. “He always had to enter a battle with what he called ‘flair’.”

“What happened to him?”

He glanced at Gaia, glad that he couldn’t see her face very well. “I... I killed him.” The shiver in Cody’s voice was alien, a sound unlike anything he’d ever heard come out of his own mouth.

Gaia didn’t say anything, but her grip on his arm tightened a little. Cody took a breath but when he tried to stop talking, more words kept tumbling out.

“I remember he’d just killed General Grievous, the leader of the Separatist army, on Utapau. The fighting was fierce to say the least but we were pushing the clankers back.

K... Kenobi had dropped his lightsaber during the fight with Grievous. Again. I found it, as usual. He rode by on a... on a varactyl. I handed it to him and we were excited about ending the battle quickly.”

Cody didn’t realize he’d started crying until his chest gave an involuntary hitch. Gaia was holding his arm with both hands now, but she still hadn’t said a word.

“He rode off, up a cliffside. My communicator chimed and when I opened it, there was a man I didn’t know looking at me. He wore a robe... I couldn’t see his face. He said my name and then told me to execute an order. Sixty-six.”

Gaia was hugging him again, rubbing circles on his back, and he was shaking so hard that he could barely catch his breath. “I just... I just did it. Like I didn’t know him. Like he was just some soulless clanker...”

“It’s not your fault,” Gaia murmured softly, squeezing his waist hard enough to make him look down at her. “It’s not your fault.”

It shouldn’t be a child comforting a grown man, Cody thought. But if any child could, it was Gaia. The girl was a bastion of quiet strength, and she was able to lend that to those around her. The other kids frequently went to her for advice or for encouragement and Cody had watched them leave her lighter and bettered for their time with her.

“Thank you.” He sniffed loudly, swiping his sleeved arm over his face quickly. “You know how proud you make me, right?”

He heard her smile and felt her duck her head against his shoulder. “I love you, Papa.”

“Love you, too, little one.”

[thegreatestofheck]

Simple Melancholy pt. 2 ❣ Kelce ❣

for my full masterlist and the first part, click here! If you want to be added to the taglist for this fic or any of my other works, just let me know!

word count - 4.4k warnings - Brief mentions of past abuse, underage drinking, swearing synopsis - Jemma “Little J” Maybank finds herself a little over her head when she accidentally falls for a boy from Figure Eight. Between her overly protective brother and Kelce’s incredibly rude friends, neither of them are sure how they’re going to make it, but they’re determined to.  tagging - @diverrdown, @yourlocalauthor, @outrebanx, @starkeystyles, @simonsbluee, @parkerpetertingle,  a/n - I’m sorry it took me so long to update this, but I hope you enjoy this part! I love you all. Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay the grooviest. 

The water beat against Jemma, her surfboard flying over her head. She tried to push herself to the surface, but another wave crashed into her before she could. The force of the water pushed her into the hard sand, but the pain didn’t register. All Jemma could think about was getting a breath of air. 

It wasn’t until the waves pushed her onto the shore that she could finally breathe. Coughing up water and gasping for air, Jemma crawled away from the water. 

“That was a nasty wipeout, Little J!” John B said, laughing as he and the others ran over to her. 

“Jemma, are you okay?” JJ asked. He dropped to the sand and put a hand on her back as he brushed wet and matted hair out of her face. Nodding, Jemma coughed again. “Come on.” 

JJ ducked under her arm and helped her to her feet, moving her farther away from the water. John B, Kie, and Pope followed, dropping their surfboards into the sand. JJ lowered his sister back onto the ground as she continued to suck in deep breaths. 

“That...was...sick,” she said, gasping with each word. And then she smiled up at her brother. He shook his head, wrapped his arm around her neck, and tugged her in for a side hug. 

“It was pretty cool,” JJ said with a grin. “That’s going in the pogue hall of fails, Little J.” 

“Anyone get a picture?” She teased. Kie and Pope, who were still standing with worried looks on their faces, glanced between each other. John B walked over to the cooler they had brought for surfing day and pulled out a beer bottle. When he came back, he handed it off to Jemma and JJ didn’t even protest. 

Once she could breathe steadily enough, Jemma popped open the beer and took a short drink. John B sat down beside her with a beer of his own. He grinned at Jemma and JJ narrowed his eyes slowly. 

“Don’t be looking at my sister like that,” JJ said. Jemma and John B looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

“Get your head out of your ass, bubba,” John B said, taking another sip. JJ looked like he was about to beat his friend into the sand, but Jemma reached out and put a hand over her brother’s. 

“Would you chill?” She asked him, a twinge of irritation in her voice. JJ huffed and dropped his hands into the sand. Jemma shook her head and took another swig of beer. She wouldn’t lie and say she would be mad if John B looked at her the way her brother always accused him of. She’d practically grown up with him, been there for him through some of his worst moments and he had been there for her in hers. Thinking about macking her brother’s best friend wasn’t the worst crime Jemma had ever committed. It was, however, the only crime that would probably get her killed. 

In an attempt to shake the thoughts away, Jemma pushed herself onto her feet, teetering ever so slightly as she did so. She felt lightheaded, her vision going dark for a second. 

“Where are you going?” Kie asked, putting a hand out to steady her friend. 

“Gotta go get my board,” Jemma replied. 

“I’ll come.” John B started to push himself upward, but not before JJ tackled him back to the sand. 

“No way in hell!” His words seemed harsh, but there was a laugh in his voice. Jemma scoffed and rolled her eyes as the boys rolled around, kicking up sand. 

“Dude!” Kie protested, trying to jump out of the way of their flailing legs. 

“I’ll come with you,” Pope said but Jemma shook her head. 

“I don’t need an escort,” she told him with a laugh. 

“I’ll come anyway.” 

Jemma shrugged and took another sip of beer. If she had felt more attached to her personal items, Jemma might have been upset that her board wasn’t currently on her person. But she had gotten used to disappointment. Losing it would just be losing another thing. From her experience, nothing stayed long, why would a surfboard? 

But, losing it would be a potential reason for her dad to get angry. Jemma’s first reaction to her dad being angry with her for losing her board was fear, but the second was bitterness. Let him hate her, let him hit her, let him throw everything he had at her. She could take it. 

“Are you even looking?” Pope asked as Jemma stared existentially out into the ocean. 

“Huh?” She turned to look at him and he raised his eyebrows. “Right.” 

Taking a long drink of beer, she narrowed her eyes and scanned the surface of the water. Waves still crashed against the shore, but there was no sign of her sunset orange board. 

“JJ said you got a tutoring gig,” Pope said, shoving his hands into his pockets. Jemma felt herself grimace. 

“Yup.” She took a drink. 

“Didn’t go well?” 

“No, it went perfectly fine. Guy’s a dickhead though.” 

“I’m sorry, Little J.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Jemma smiled behind a sip. “At least I’m making money.”

Jemma wasn’t sure why she was so quick to call Kelce a dickhead. He really hadn’t been that terrible any of the times she had come over. After their first mini fight, it seemed like everything became less tense. She helped him write his essays and study for his tests and he didn’t complain nearly as much as JJ did. He tried to ask her questions about her personal life, but she avoided them at all costs. There was no reason for him to get to know her. They weren’t friends. They were supposed to hate each other. 

But Jemma couldn’t help but feel like he tried so hard to get to know her because he wanted a real connection with someone that wasn’t just it in for his money. Then again, maybe she was just projecting. Truth be told, he was actually really sweet. And funny. And adorable. And- 

“There!” Pope put one hand on her shoulder and pointed with his other. 

“Where?”

“There, dumbass!” 

Then she saw it, floating by itself just beyond the crashing waves. A smile spread across Jemma’s face. She shoved her beer bottle into Pope’s hands and started for the water. 

“Little J, wait!” His attempts to hold her back failed, but his shouting got JJ’s attention. 

Jemma dove underneath the first wave she came in contact with. All of her senses came to life. When she was away from the water, it always felt like there was a part of her that was dead, or at least not alive. Even when the ocean tried its hardest to kill her, she always found herself yearning to be right back in it to feel that last bit of life she so deeply desired. 

Which was why, even though she had yet to completely catch her breath after her beat down, she didn’t hesitate to dive in headfirst. 

“Jemma!” She heard JJ yell over the thundering waves, but she wouldn’t listen. Even after her feet could no longer touch the ground below, Jemma didn’t slow. She maneuvered through the waves until she reached her board. 

“Reunited,” she whispered, breathless, a gleeful smile on her face. Before she clambered on top of it, she pressed a kiss against the deck. She rode the waves back to shore, her smile never once fading. But JJ was fired up all over again which was almost enough to put her back in a sour mood as she ran over with the surfboard under her arm. 

“You almost died and you just run back into the water like a maniac?” He asked. Jemma shrugged. 

“Had to get my board.” 

“I could have gotten it for you.” 

“I don’t need you to do everything for me. I’m not a baby, J.” 

“I know you’re not, but-” 

“But nothing.” Jemma tried to keep her smile. “Can I have my beer back?” 

Pope, not wanting to get between Jemma and JJ, handed the beer back to her before running back to stand next to Kie. She was waiting patiently to deescalate any situation that arose, John B laughing silently to himself to the side. Not breaking eye contact with her brother, Jemma took a long drink of her beer. He narrowed his eyes but said nothing. The wind blew and a sudden, sharp pain made Jemma gasp. 

Looking down, she saw a sand rash marred the skin around her hip bone. JJ’s eyes followed hers and he rolled his eyes. 

“That’s what you get for being a dumbass,” he said, but then he stepped forward and took the beer can from her. “We should get this cleaned out.” 

“It’s a burn, not a bullet hole,” Jemma said with a roll of her eyes. 

“It looks pretty bad, Little J,” John B said, walking over to her and JJ. She looked up at met his concerned look. “We should get you home

“Okay,” she said, her voice cracking. 

“Okay,” JJ mocked her voice. Jemma slapped her hand against his shoulder. “Ow! What the hell!” 

“You’re a douche,” Jemma snapped. JJ sneered. 

“Well, you’re stuck with me.” 

“I’ll help you to the car,” John B interrupted. 

“No!” Jemma and JJ both shouted at the same time. 

“I can walk perfectly fine,” Jemma tried to say in a calmer voice, offering John B an apologetic smile. 

“You’re not touching my sister with a ten foot pole,” JJ warned, pointing a finger at his best friend. 

“Would you knock it off?” Jemma shoved her brother back. JJ was about to retaliate when Pope and Kie stepped in. 

“Alright, you two,” Kie said, putting her hands on Jemma’s shoulders and pulling her backward. It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Jemma and JJ to fight, in fact, it happened almost every time they hung out with the Pogues. It was just life with the Maybank twins. 

By the time John B’s van rattled to a stop at the Chateau, the argument between Jemma and JJ was completely forgotten. They were chatting back and forth about whatever dumb movie they had stolen from the abandoned Blockbuster even as the entire group clambered out of the car. 

“I gotta go get this cleaned up,” Jemma said, covering her sand rash to keep the wind off of it. She wasn’t a pussy, but sand rashes hurt like a bitch. 

“You got to tutor today?” JJ asked as she headed off toward the house. 

“Yup. In about an hour.” 

“Your nails aren’t done.” 

Jemma felt herself smile. Ever since their stupid argument about nail polish, JJ had knicked a few bottles from the Kook cougars he worked for to give to her. It was an olive branch gesture, one that made Jemma smile just thinking about.  

“Don’t have time for it today,” she told him. JJ shrugged his shoulders, trying to seem like he didn’t care. “But I’ll paint them tonight when I get back, yeah? That blue color was really nice.”

He perked his head up and a hint of a smile crossed his face. The others weren’t entirely sure what was going on, but they knew it to be a Maybank Moment. These moments usually followed a fight, so they weren’t really surprised. 

Trotting up the porch steps and into the house, Jemma couldn’t help her smile. There was a small part of her that was giddy. Even though it was only her fifth time going over to Kelce’s to help him study, she found herself looking forward to it. Maybe it was because she could almost convince herself that she was living like Kook for three hours. Maybe it was because when Kelce looked at her, he didn’t see the damaged goods from the cut that she saw in the mirror. 

After cleaning her sand rash, Jemma threw on a new outfit, something a little nicer than before that covered up the beating her body took from the ocean. Saying a quick goodbye to her friends, she took off toward Figure Eight. 

She wasn’t even the least bit nervous knocking on Kelce’s door that night. It was later than she usually went over, but he had texted her the day before asking to change the times a bit. Jemma was more than happy to comply. It just meant that she could spend the rest of the day with her friends. 

When he opened the front door, he was smiling. God, she loved his smile. 

“Hi,” he said, leaning his hand against the door. Jemma couldn’t help the stupid grin on her face. 

“Hi.” 

He just watched her for a moment as she tapped her fingers against the back of her hand. Then he suddenly cleared his throat and opened the door even more. 

“Come in.” 

Jemma stepped inside, immediately kicking off her shoes and setting her bag on the counter. 

“So, what are we studying to-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

A shout from another room in the house startled Jemma. She jumped, turning her concerned gaze toward Kelce, who grimaced. 

“A few of the boys are over,” he explained slowly, tucking his hands into his pockets. Jemma raised her eyebrows as her pulse started to slow back down to normal.

“Is this why you pushed the time back?” 

Kelce stepped toward her in a hurried attempt to cover for himself. 

“You’ve been helping me out so much I just wanted to give you a break in return for all your help,” he said. Jemma almost laughed. 

“Kelce, your parents literally pay me to be here. I don’t need you to do anything else for me,” she told him. For a brief second, there was almost something like hurt behind his eyes, as if wondering whether or not she would still come if the money stopped flowing into her bank account. 

“I just want you to meet my friends.” 

“I know your friends. We don’t get along.” 

“It’s just a few guys. They’ll be cool, I swear!” 

Jemma eyed him carefully, but she heard the desperation behind his words. She wasn’t sure what came over her that made her finally nod her head with a sigh. It didn’t matter which of Kelce’s friends were over, there was no way this was going to end well. 

He gestured toward the living room and Jemma let him lead her there. 

“Fuck you!” the same voice from before screamed. Jemma saw the TV and the game that was on before she saw who was watching. Clearly, the game was not going in their favor. But then she saw Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton sitting on Kelce’s couch. Fear immediately rose in her stomach at the sight of them, her eyes going wide. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” She seethed, moving out of the doorway and behind a wall. With a scowl on his face, Kelce followed after her. 

“Jemma, what-”

“You didn’t say your friends were Topper and Rafe,” she whispered, her chest heaving. 

“I said a few guys.” Jemma shut her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. “What’s going on?” 

Jemma tried to steady her breathing before answering. She popped one eye open only to see Kelce watching her with a worried look on his face. She let out a deep sigh and pulled him farther away from the living room. 

“You have to swear to never repeat to anyone what I’m about to tell you,” she said, her voice low. Kelce nodded his head. 

“What happens in the house stays in the house,” he said, repeating one of Jemma’s rules. Jemma swallowed a hard lump in her throat, cringing as she tried to build up the courage to say what she was about to say. 

“Okay.” She put her shaking hands up and took a deep breath in through her nose. “Don’t be mad at me.” 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“Because I’m about to tell you something that might ruin your perception of me.” 

“Nothing could do that.” 

Jemma ignored the way her heart spiked. She heaved out a sigh, tapping her head against the wall again. There was no easy way to say what she was about to say. 

“JJ and I got into an argument once a few months back. A bad one,” she started, peering back at the entrance to the living room as if waiting for someone to walk right through. “He wouldn’t let me run off with this touron I met at a party. I was angry as hell and horny as hell and drunk as hell, so I did something I knew would royally piss him off.” 

Kelce scowled, still not really understanding. Jemma was hoping that she could get him to understand without spelling it out completely, but it didn’t appear to be working. 

“I found the one guy I knew would make my brother the angriest and I…” She trialed off, gesturing with her hand until Kelce got the picture. She watched him press his lips into a fine line. “Not my proudest moment, but-” 

“Who was the guy?” Kelce asked, his voice as quiet as hers was. Jemma swore quietly to herself. He was really going to make her say it, wasn’t he? She bounced a few times before blurting the name out as quickly as she could. 

“Rafe.” 

“Oh, my god, Jemma!” 

“Shh!” She hissed desperately, pressing her hand to Kelce’s mouth and turning to make sure no one heard. “I told you not to be mad!” 

Kelce swatted her hand off of his mouth. 

“I’m not mad...I’m just….” Kelce put a hand on his head before dropping it back to his side. Jemma grimaced at the expression on his face. “You’re a fucking minor, Jemma. And he’s-” 

“I know!” Jemma wrapped her arms around her stomach. “It was a mistake.” 

“A one time mistake?” 

Jemma set her jaw, starting to bounce again. She got bouncy when she was nervous. 

“A multiple time mistake.” 

“Oh, god.” 

“So, now you know why I can’t go in there, right?” She was begging him to understand, to just let her walk away. She hadn’t seen, let alone spoken to, Rafe since their last hook up a month or so ago. She wasn’t really intended on tonight being that night. Kelce turned away from her, his hands on his hips. He was reacting almost as badly as she expected JJ too. She wasn’t sure why he was so upset by it. At least, she told herself she didn’t. 

“I thought you hated him,” Kelce said, turning back to look at her. Jemma chewed on her lip, holding her arms tighter. 

“I hate his guts, but….” She trailed off, letting out an embarrassed breath. Her words grew quieter. “I also have a bad habit of letting him rearrange my guts.” 

Kelce scoffed and Jemma grimaced. That was the worst possible way she could have said it. It seemed like every time she opened her mouth, she was just making things worse. If only she could just dig a hole and bury herself deep inside. She would rather be literally anywhere other than where she was now. 

“It’s not like I actually like him, or anything.” She was still trying to defend her actions for whatever reason. She just couldn’t bear to have Kelce thinking that she was easy like everyone else did. The thought forced tears into her eyes. “It was just-”

Kelce lifted his hand and Jemma swallowed her words. His eyes were closed, pinched shut. She waited for him to explode, to scream at her, call her a whore, maybe even shove her around. It was what she expected from men. She messed up and they came for her, tooth and nail. 

But Kelce never even curled his hands into fists. He waited to talk until his breathing was steady, until the confusion and anger were gone from his face. Then he opened his eyes slowly to look at her. 

Jemma hadn’t realized how tense she was, waiting for an attack, until Kelce lifted his hand to rest on her shoulder and she flinched. He pulled his hand back, a concerned look on his face as he leaned away from her. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his eyebrows pinching together. 

“I...I should go.” Jemma took a few steps to the side before starting for the front door. 

“Jem...wait.” Kelce caught her by the wrist, his grip gentle. Still, she spun around ready for the attack that she still expected to come. Her eyes were wide, her breathing heavy. “You wanna get out of here? Go somewhere quieter?” 

Jemma’s body relaxed out of surprise and she scowled. 

“What?” 

“I’m not mad at you, Jemma. You’re entitled to live your own life. I was just shocked is all.” 

Jemma kept her scowl for a few more moments even as he dropped his hand from her wrist. She was trying to figure out what his angle was. There had to be a reason he was doing this, saying the things he was saying. There had to be a reason he was talking so softly, so gently. 

Her dad used to do it a lot when she was younger. Pretend he wasn’t mad just so he could explode later. Get her crying in his arms before throwing her to the floor. Make her think she was safe and then….

She couldn’t help but wonder if Kelce was doing the same thing now. It took her a few pondering moments to decide that he wasn’t. 

Stepping out of her defensive stance, she kept a small scowl on her face, just in case. 

“Sure.” 

At her acceptance of his offer, Kelce smiled. It wasn’t the same, wide smile as before, but he was happy to hear her response. He walked her back to the front door, sending one last look back toward his friends. 

“Will they miss you?” Jemma asked as she stepped into Kelce’s car, her legs still shaking ever so slightly. Kelce shrugged and shut her door for her. 

“Not likely.” 

Jemma rolled down the window, hoping that the cool evening air would be enough to calm her nerves. 

“So,” Kelce said, one hand resting lazily on the wheel and his other hanging out his open window. “Rafe.” 

Jemma scoffed and rolled her eyes, a small, cringing smile on her lips. 

“I ended it,” she said, refusing to look at him as she watched the rich people houses dash by in a blur. “It felt wrong, lying to my brother all the time.”

“I thought you did it to piss him off.” 

“Yeah, I did, but I didn’t want to get Rafe murdered because I was being petty.” 

To Jemma’s surprise, Kelce actually laughed. It was a nice sound, like the waves against the shore. No, something softer than that but just as powerful. 

“And,” Jemma continued, though she didn’t know why. “It made me feel like...like the things people said about me were all true.” 

“What things?” 

It was Jemma’s turn to laugh, but hers was bitter, accompanied by a roll of her eyes. 

“You know.” Kelce glanced over at her and gave his head a little shake. “That I’m easy. That I’ve got daddy issues and that means I’ll let anyone in my pants. That my dad….” She paused. “Whore, slut, homewrecker, the whole nine yards. You’re telling me that you’ve never heard anyone say that about me?” 

Kelce shrugged his shoulders, but Jemma knew he was lying. She let out a heavy breath. 

“Fine,” Kelce said. “I’ve heard it all. But I never believed it.” 

Jemma raised her eyebrows, leaning back against her seat and looking at him as she propped a foot up onto the dashboard. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Kelce fixed his eyes on the road. “Most decent guys don’t believe it when someone says stuff like that about a girl.” 

“Most decent guys wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole.” 

Jemma’s mind went back to the beach, to John B’s offer to help her, to JJ telling him off by saying the same thing. She scrunched up her nose and looked down at her hands. Never before had any of these words ever left her mouth before, to anyone, not even her closest friends, her family. How was it that Kelce had managed to pry it out of her after only knowing her for a few weeks? 

“I haven’t seen my parents in two months,” Kelce said suddenly. He didn’t tear his gaze from the road even as Jemma looked up at him. “They’ve been contacting you from somewhere in Europe.” 

“Kelce, you don’t have to-” 

“No, you bore your soul to me. I just want you to know that you can trust me with these things.” He looked over at her finally. “So, I’m trusting you. My parents pay so little attention to me, the only reason they know that my grades were as low as they were was because I told them.” 

Jemma felt her jaw tense, her throat starting to swell. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Comforting people wasn’t her strong suit. 

“It’s been this way all my life.” He shrugged. “Do you trust me yet?” 

Jemma felt a smile pull at the edges of her lips, but she tried to hold it back. 

“We’re getting there.” 

“Friends?” 

Jemma narrowed her eyes, pulling at her lip with her teeth as she mulled the idea over. 

“Friends have nicknames for each other,” she said finally, crossing her arms. “I’ll call you Kellie.” 

Kelce laughed. 

“No way in hell!” 

“I thought you wanted to be friends.” 

“I do!” Jemma cocked an eyebrow. “Fine. You can call me Kellie. As long as I can call you Jem.” 

Jemma felt her heart freeze in her chest. The only person who ever called her Jem was her mom. Jemma swore to never let anyone else call her that in case her mom ever came back and laid claim on the name once again. But her mom was gone. She was gone and she wasn’t coming back. Jemma had to realize it eventually. 

“Deal.” Jemma finally let herself smile. “So, Kellie, where are you taking me?” 

He gave her a mischievous grin before settling his gaze back on the road. 

“I guess you’re just going to have to wait and see, Jem.” 

“It better be good.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Jemma’s smile grew wider. 

[mercyxkilling]

idiots to lovers romantic starters

@emptyvictory​ said: “i’m not going anywhere.”

her abandonment issues must have been showing if niko felt like he needed to tell her that, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate it any less. she did feel fucking foolish that she’d let that side of her show at all, especially in front of him, even after all they’d been through. she hated looking weak, looking vulnerable, especially to niko. he was the one person whose opinion mattered the most to her (maybe aside from vinnie, but she rarely went to him for anything anymore). but mercy also knew that it wasn’t hard to infer just how deeply she wanted someone to be there when she needed them, if only just to have close by and to know that she wasn’t doing this alone. sure, she had her crew, but they were motivated by money mostly. not that they didn’t care about her too, but... what she shared with niko was much, much different. and she’d always been so fucking afraid of getting too close to anyone for fear that they’d learn who she really was and dip as soon as they did.

she knew she was too much. the woman was reckless and could be intolerant and impatient. she was hot-tempered and volatile, prone to mood swings that made no sense, and repeatedly threw herself into dangerous situations because she simply hadn’t cared whether she lived or died.

the latter part had definitely changed recently, but it also didn’t change the fact that her life was riddled with danger, whether it was in the form of drive-by shootings, attempted kidnappings, break-ins, shoot outs, turf wars... the list went on, really. mercy never wanted to let anyone in or let them get too close because it was entirely possible that her connections with people would be weaponized, used to hurt her in some way. or maybe these people who wanted to grow closer were just using her, reporting what they heard back to her mother, in hopes of gaining favor with other families. and if she ever became involved with anyone outside of the life... well. she just couldn’t see it happening. ever. there would be too many questions that she couldn’t answer, and there was no place for secrets in a relationship. and how the hell was she supposed to explain what she did to some average joe that might have caught her fancy? not that she saw that happening any time soon; she had little time to spend courting anyone and the very idea of it exhausted her. 

and yet. she still craved that kind of connection with another person. she had benny, but she couldn’t be what he wanted her to be for him. she had vinnie, but he was getting older and she knew that he wasn’t going to stick around forever. he had a family, and mercy wanted him to leave to be a better father to his children and an even better husband than he already was to his wife. mercy wasn’t his child, and he needed to let go of that idea and move on with his life, the other men in her group were all different, all special, and she wanted better lives for all of them eventually. and with that being the case it meant that, once again, she was going to be alone again. just her against the world, fending off her mother and brother, and the very idea of that brought back so many memories that she had tried so hard to suppress because they were so painful. it wasn’t that she couldn’t handle it on her own, since she had for so long after her father’s death and before she found herself in the position of a leader to so many, but mercy simply didn’t want to have to go through it alone. it wasn’t anyone’s responsibility to make sure she didn’t spiral downward or to do anything stupid that could end up with her being killed, and it sure as hell wasn’t anyone else’s job to take care of her... but knowing that at least someone cared enough to stick around despite all of that meant more than words could ever adequately express.

she’d told a lot of this to niko, mercy had wanted him to know that, eventually, she wanted a normal life. living the way she had been didn’t end well for a lot of people she’d known. many were in jail, even more had been killed. and part of her just wanted peace, if such a thing could ever be possible for her. she just didn’t know how that was going to happen. and if her life changed that drastically, who was she going to have left?

and he’d said the words that she exactly had needed to hear.

he wasn’t going to leave her. 

part of her almost knew that, but it didn’t change the fact that she’d wanted--needed--to hear that. to have that reassurance that no matter what happened, he was going to be there. the thought alone almost brought her to tears. almost. she refused to let herself cry in front of him even after all they’d shared and had been through. mercy knew how awkward it would have made him feel to see her tears, and she wasn’t about to put him through that, even if they would have been happy ones.

“i know. and i’ll always be grateful to ya for that. i still don’t know why ya haven’t left yet but... i’m still so glad you’re here. thank you.”

he might not have said much, but when he did, it was almost always what she needed to hear. it was just another reason why she’d fallen so hard for him.

[stillness-in-green]

MLAWeek Coda: The Lore Post

Sorry this is a few days late!  To the surprise of absolutely no one who has read some of my longer meta posts, I just don’t know how to shut the F up.  (Spoilers: this post is only a few hundred words away from being as long as everything else I wrote for the week put together.)  

Anyway, hit the jump for, in order:

A quick breakdown of the Liberation Army’s general structure.

A list of members, broken down by broad generation, including the ones we have gotten explicitly IDed in canon, the ones I based on figures we see in canon, and the ones I completely made up.

The basic tenets of the MLA and some discussion about their views on quirk supremacy. (feat. fandom salt)

An overview of the way the Advent shook up the political landscape in Japan and the Hearts & Minds Party’s place in that landscape.  Pretty much the same material Trumpet’s victory speech from Day 4 covers, but modestly more in-depth, removed from the need to play well to a crowd, and with some added explanation about the structure of the Diet for readers who are less familiar with it than Trumpet’s audience would be.

A timeline (with only moderately arbitrary dates!) covering the birth of the glowing baby up to the first year of the manga.  Mostly concerned with detailing the events the MLA would care about, but with a few other points of reference to contextualize things for the rest of us.

Bonus Fun Facts: discussion of the considerations that went into the timeline, a look at All For One’s actions re: the MLA, and some miscellaneous blurbs on terminology, worldbuilding and characterization.

A smattering of asides in the form of footnotes.

Note that while this material is based in and accurate to canon as much as I could remember at the time that I was doing my notes on my fills for the week, there’s a lot in here that is based entirely on supposition, interpretation and, at times, just plain-old guessing.  

Thanks to @codenamesazanka and @robotlesbianjavert for their assistance in naming, brainstorming, and just generally putting up with me while the Liberation Army was completely devouring my attention.

@red-the-omnic Somewhat belatedly, here’s that list of MLA members you asked for back during the middle of the week.  Sorry to make you wait so long! 

Enjoy!  

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

ORGANIZATION

Grand Commander: Destro and Destro’s line of descendants.

The First Families: Those who fought at Destro’s side and escaped to continue the fight, and their descendants.  Veritably all high-ranked within the MLA, their tie to the original incarnation of the Army marks them as elites, whether or not their quirks would do so otherwise. The elders of the First Families do a certain amount of collective decision-making when and if the Grand Commander is unable to do so and has left orders otherwise.

Sanctum: “Sanctum” is a special position in the Army.  The name denotes the person who’s tasked with remembering the MLA’s history, practices and lore—the position is considered contiguous, so even when someone is new to the name, they’re still considered “the longest-serving member of the Liberation Army.”.  When they’re getting on in years, they select an appropriate protégé, to whom the name will pass upon their death/capture.  The name must always go to a member of the First Families (though in truth, they’re only on their third one, so it’s more of a pattern so far than a hard rule).

Commanders & Lieutenants: People in charge of major operations, liberated districts, etc. Frequently, though not always, members of the First Families.  Have discretion over their own assignments, but may not have much influence in the Army’s operations on the whole, depending on who they’re connected to otherwise.

Advisors: This title denotes those who are specifically tapped to give advice and aid to the MLA leadership.  Levels of authority vary depending on who they’re advising.  Advisors of lieutenants, if any, are a step above the rank and file, advisors of commanders are about on par with lieutenants, and advisors to the Grand Commander are considered commanders in their own right, regardless of any other rank they may hold.

Rank and File: Pretty much everyone else.

———–      

KNOWN MEMBERS [1]

The original MLA—

Destro: Yotsubashi Chikara.  Established the Meta Liberation Army in his mid-30s in response to the development of what he felt were overly restrictive laws on the usage of meta-abilities. Having observed evidence that meta-abilities grew stronger generationally, he was particularly concerned that no oppressive laws could be enforced by the generation that established them because the next generation would always be more powerful.  Thus, he believed that establishing the use of meta-abilities as a fundamental right was the only way for society to avoid indefinite intergenerational strife.  He was particularly incensed by the government co-opting the message that got his mother murdered to put a pretty, self-congratulatory sheen on laws that did the exact opposite of what she wished for.  Allegedly committed suicide after some months in prison.  The MLA is highly suspicious of this claim—they’re correct to be, but not for the reasons they think.              His quirk, which his entire line would inherit, turns a key emotion into enhanced strength and resilience in the form of a characteristic ink-blot marking.  While it would develop over time, the basic nature of the quirk remained the same. Chikara’s driving emotion was resolve.

Fathom: Destro’s lover, she dedicated a decade of her life after his capture to building up the survivors he’d left behind.  It’s said her son got his drive from Destro, but his anger from Fathom.  Had a large hand in raising her son to be the sort of man he was, particularly in her decision to commit what many considered to be suicide-by-hero when he was in his teens.  A large part of that choice was wrapped up in her never-fully-assuaged grief over Destro’s loss (and, she believed to the end, his murder), but there was also a cold calculation to it—her making a big show of it would lead the police to believe that her attack was the last gasp of the Liberation Army, ending their investigations into MLA activities.  It would also stoke the fires of her son’s rage, honing him into a stronger weapon against their enemies.  Her judgement in both cases proved broadly on-point, though her death did serve to make her son more cautious than she might have hoped.              Meta-Ability: Antennae.  A pair of insectile feelers emerging from her forehead that give her a passel of sensory boosts, particularly in the taste and smell categories, and which also make her able to detect shifts in the air from quite some distance.)

Cascade: A man whose meta-ability lets him turn body parts into loosely controllable masses of water.  Can’t transform fully.  A quick-thinking type able to make hard calls.

Sweeper: A woman with a radio-scanning quirk.  Caught by police in the same fight as Destro.

Sanctum I: The first bearer of the codename.  Had a protective ability of some sort.

Sanctum II’s father: The same quirk as his daughter; see below.  Known for getting some eight people safely out of a police raid by carrying them all out at once despite not actually having superhuman strength of any kind.  (Probably tore several muscles in the process, but adrenaline is a hell of a thing.)

The Second Generation—

Destro’s son: Raised to deeply resent heroes and the government that put them in place, but he was also very cautious of them.  He was profoundly aware that his death would mean the end of the dream that his father had begun and his mother had cultivated, so he was very meticulous in spreading the MLA’s influence underground, rebuilding their numbers before he even began to consider starting to make attacks again.  Destro’s army had been a guerilla force; his son’s would be something much more dangerous.  His driving emotion was anger, and he had two children before being killed by a cerebral aneurysm at 43.  Was able to use his power to make his body larger.

Sanctum II: A woman with an unusual fondness for the traditional Japanese arts, particularly tea ceremony.  Meta-ability: Stride.  Teleport to any location she can directly see by taking a single step forward.   Can take whoever she can carry under her own power. (First Families lineage)

Anchor: An advisor to Destro’s son.  Prominent bull horns.  Meta-ability: Immobilize.  Similar to Lock Rock’s Lockdown quirk, except it only works on his own body.  Very good at wrestling holds (and holding his breath), he tends to fight with backup that can deliver finishing blows to opponents once he has them pinned down.  (First Families lineage)

The Third Generation—

Yotsubashi Kyouyuki: The elder child of Destro’s son.  Deemed an unsuitable Grand Commander for his driving emotion of joy.  Always presented a façade of being cheerful and upbeat, but the ever-present rhetoric that the MLA pushes about the ongoing suppression of quirks and the misery and injustice it leads to left Kyou always struggling with guilt.  In college, it finally got so bad that he resolved to run away, enlisting the help of a friend with a swap-based teleport quirk to get him out of a party undetected. His fate thereafter is a secret that’s been taken to the grave by the MLA members involved in it, but given the typical reactions of illegal underground cults to members wanting to leave, it’s unlikely that he’s living somewhere in happy anonymity.  (Name means Unyielding Happiness, following in his grandfather and nephew's patterns of having characters in their names meaning power/strength.)

Yotsubashi Yukie: The younger child of Destro’s son, and Rikiya’s mother.  With a driving emotion of sorrow, and having been steadily losing family her entire life, Yukie wrestled with depression for most of her life. The presumptive heir to the title of Re-Destro, she spent considerably more time in training than her older brother, but she never much had the temperament for it.  When her father died only a few scant years after Kyouyuki’s disappearance, she expressed her fears that she was incapable of being the leader the Army needed.  This led to her becoming a mother at a relatively young age, continuing the bloodline rather than picking up the banner.  For all her struggles with her grief, Yukie was very determined to at least be there for the son on whom the weight of leadership would fall.  The world of My Hero Academia is a dangerous one, however, particularly before All Might established himself as Japan’s pillar, and Yukie was a casualty of the chaos of a villain attack when Rikiya was ten.  (Name means Glittering Conqueror, ditto the note above about the family pattern for name kanji.)

Rampart: Guardian and general caretaker for Rikiya in his younger years.  Hand-picked for the role by Yukie, who had considered him a close friend since their school days.  Meta-Ability: An earth manipulation power akin to Pixie-Bob’s, though less powerful.  (First Families lineage)

Shinseigi: Trumpet’s uncle, unspecified code name.  Also in politics, though of a more local variety.  Meta-ability: His speaking voice makes listeners suggestible.  (The phonetic pronunciation of his name sounds like “New Justice,” but the kanji are “Sleeping Voice Technique.”)

The Fourth Generation—

Yotsubashi Rikiya: The current Re-Destro (42); CEO and President of Detnerat.  He took up the former title when he was only 6 years old. With the succession of losses that were his uncle, grandfather and mother, the MLA has been fairly careful with him, grooming him with care and rarely leaving him without some form of supervision, be it Rampart when he was young or Trumpet in college.  An extremely dutiful child grown into an urbane man whose good humor disguises a morose—and occasionally volatile—inner character.  Always under a lot of stress (his MRIs are clear so far, though, haha!), but there’s only so much effort dedicated to mitigating that, since stress is his key emotion.  The first in the family line to be able to separate his power from his own body, in the form of his Stress Bomb attack.

Trumpet: Hanabata Koku (44).  One of Rikiya’s advisors and party leader of the Hearts & Minds Party (see below); has known Rikiya since their preteen years.  The Hanabatas were a political family of old, but largely saw those fortunes crash and burn when they started manifesting quirks a few generations into the Advent.  They’ve been clawing their way back into politics ever since and were an early target for the MLA’s project to infiltrate and/or start their own political party.  It was decided very early on that Koku’s quirk and his family connections made him a good choice to groom for leadership of the HMP, so he and Rikiya bonded over their similar positions.  They would go on to attend the same university, during which time they became romantically involved.  In truth, Koku’s university was functionally chosen for him on the basis of which one Rikiya would be attending; the First Families were not about to lose another Yotsubashi to college life.  Koku is more aware of this particular fact than Rikiya.  Still a little wistful about their college days, his opinions regarding Re-Destro’s big starstruck crush on Shigaraki are borderline unprintable.

Sanctum III: Twice’s No. 1 advisor, the dude with the big imperial handlebar moustache and what looks an awful lot like a dress uniform for the Japanese navy.  A few years older than Trumpet.  (First Families lineage)

Curious: Kizuki Chitose (36).  RD advisor and Shoowaysha Publishing Executive Vice President.[2]  From a relatively small liberated district up near Sendai; the MLA connections plus her own profound ambition got her moving very quickly up the MLA chain of command. Daughter of a wlw couple; got her blue skin from her bio mom.  One younger sibling, a sister.  Masterminded the dinners we see the group having in Chapter 218, originally to make sure Rikiya was getting at least one well-apportioned meal a week and a chance to socialize with the closest thing he has to peers, but also because it proved to be an invaluable opportunity to swap information and rumors.

Skeptic: Chikazoku Tomoyasu (31).  RD advisor and Feel Good Inc. board member.  On the bottom end of the generation age-wise, a prodigy in every sense save his broadly terrible people skills.  Recognizes Rikiya’s stress tells because he shares several of them himself, and is also the only person of Rikiya’s generation with the confidence to verbally push him around a bit.  It’s regarded as borderline scandalous by their elders, but Rikiya himself finds it bracing, and anyway, Skeptic’s ability to organize a schedule for maximum efficiency is nothing less than miraculous.  Got Rikiya onto fidget toys.

Toryu:  Toryu is the family name of Galvanize (aka Taser Face aka Kaminari’s Dad).  Mr. Compress’s No. 1, the dude who strolls out onto the lawn after Cementoss rips the hotel a new one and immediately gets his smarm repackaged and returned to sender by Kaminari and Edgeshot.  Great for morale before that, though!  In Rikiya’s age group, his mother’s side of the family (from which he gets the electricity powers) has been in the Army for at least as far back as her school days. (The name comes from the characters for leaping/rising and current/flow.)

Slidin’ Go: Tokoname Tatsuyuki (37).  He’s Slidin’ Go!  Skeptic’s No. 2, possibly because Slidin’ Go strongly resembles the puppets Skeptic is so used to barking orders at and there’s comfort in familiarity.

Aozono: Family name for another of Rikiya’s childhood peers, nothing is known but that green skin runs in the family as far back as her father.  May or may not be related to Curious’s family.

The Fifth Generation—

Geten: Real name unknown.  Family status unknown.  Age unknown, but I’d peg him in the 18-23 area.  Seems to be allowed to attend the weekly dinners without contributing anything but his incredibly terrible table manners.  Can talk an impassioned game about the Liberation Army’s goals (though he pushes the quirk supremacy line a good deal harder than anyone else in the Army is shown to; it’s not even close), but it’s fairly clear that he’s more personally dedicated to Re-Destro than he is the MLA’s cause in and of itself.  I’ll be honest; I have no idea what Geten’s deal is. My tentative headcanon is that he’s an orphan—the English meaning of his name, Apocrypha, refers to sacred writings of uncertain authorship/authenticity—who’s in some kind of Batman-and-Robin guardian-and-ward situation with Re-Destro, but I didn’t wind up writing enough about him to come up with much beyond that.

Nimble: Spinner’s No. 1, the woman with the weird paper-strip-esque hair who doesn’t seem to be in possession of a nose or mouth.  (She absorbs air through her skin like a frog, which is why no one has ever seen her with that sweater covering both of her shoulders.)  Nimble is a friendly sort, though she regards her outgoing good cheer as being a simple matter of social networking.  Ambitious, but sensible about it.                Meta-ability: Sky Write.  Allows her to project letters and pictures into the air around her, giving her a way to communicate she would have otherwise lacked.  She can create words in air she can’t see, but it takes some concentration, and the closer the better.

Scarecrow: Spinner’s No. 2, 21 years old.  Born with amelia (see link in Day Two’s author’s notes) that disfigured his face and severed his arms in the womb.  His quirk-based forelegs—a pair of spider legs emerging from his shoulders—can do a certain amount of basic object manipulation, but it tends to wig people out, so they push him to use his prosthetics like he’s “supposed” to (see Stray Notes section for more on this).  He was viciously angry about it even as a kid, and his parents were frustrated, making them easy pickings for cult indoctrination.  A family friend recommended that they look into Detnerat, where it wasn’t long before Re-Destro himself took an interest in their situation (or at least in making a good impression on them).  Scarecrow joined the Army as quickly as he was allowed to—16.              Meta-ability: Webbing.  The bug legs can project silk like a webspinner (the insect on which he’s based), allowing him to do anything you might broadly understand Spider-Man to be able to do with his webbing, though he certainly lacks Spider-Man’s strength.

Red: Named in passing in the manga, he’s the laid-back dude with the fluffy hair who serves as Skeptic’s No. 1 post-merger.  Probably invaluable in helping Skeptic maintain what bare vestiges of chill he can muster.  (First Families lineage)

The Sixth Generation—

Every child currently under the age of 10 being raised in MLA households with a picture of Destro over the mantle.  It’s not a small number, representing a group that neither the fandom nor the Hero Commission seem to have even realized exist.

———–      

CORE TENETS & THE MATTER OF QUIRK SUPREMACY

Re-Destro is not (contrary to popular fandom belief) in favor of full-throated, might-makes-right, survival of the fittest Quirk Darwinism.[3]  Destro’s will was for people to be able to use their meta-abilities as they saw fit to the extent that that freedom did not interfere with the freedoms of others. He was against the regulation of meta-abilities, but he was not—to the best of our knowledge—against the regulation of crime.  His belief was that one murderer with a fire ability killing people did not justify barring everyone else with fire abilities from using those powers to fire clay, start campfires, engage in fire-themed performance art, use fire to char wood in artistic patterns for money, help park rangers set and direct controlled burns, coordinate explosions for the movie industry, light cigarettes in public, or any other of dozens of possible uses for a fire ability that don’t involve burning people alive.

The MLA do believe that meta-abilities have an impact on one’s personality, but they also believe that that’s okay; that it should be understood and accepted, not feared and repressed—Curious would not have wanted to turn Toga into a tragedy about the consequences of repression if she didn’t think that a spree of bloodletting murders was a tragedy.  Their belief as an organization is that people should be free to use their powers as they see fit in the same way that they would any other natural talent or cultivated skill.  They believe that people will, if free to do so, naturally gravitate to ways of improving their own lot in life via use of their meta-abilities.

Freedom from regulation and freedom from discrimination—these are the core tenets that the vast majority of the rank and file hold to.  A great many of them are laborers, blue collar types who just want to be able to better support themselves and their families.  Many others are those who suffered discrimination because of their quirks and want better for both themselves and their children.  Of course, the further back their connections go, the more likely they are to both be higher-ranked in the cult (with attendant greater resources) and to have grown up soaking in generations’ worth of resentment, groupthink, and radicalism.

Geten, a particularly virulent and single-minded MLA attack dog, has parsed the tenets to mean that people with strong, well-trained meta-abilities will naturally be able to use their powers to do more and raise their status in the MLA’s ideal society, and thus that those who can’t or don’t choose to will not be able to live lives that Geten personally thinks are worth living.  Likewise, Trumpet doesn’t fault Spinner only for his weak ability, but also for his anti-social tendencies.  Of course a politician who’s deeply invested in a narrative of people uniting to throw off their chains and better themselves would be disdainful of someone who locked himself in his bedroom for years and emerged only to violently lash out at society.  (Spinner’s right to call Trumpet a huge hypocrite on this, mind; terrorist cult members have no business lecturing other terrorists about the correct way to violently reform society.)

The MLA does have a problem with quirk supremacy, but it’s not quite the problem fandom thinks they do, and it’s certainly more nuanced than fandom thinks.[4]  Frankly, I could write a whole post dissecting this, but rather than analyzing the canon at length in a post intending to be about my fanon for a series of slice-of-life MLA fics, let me just lay out some issues I think the MLA have.  Note that these opinions may vary member to member, particularly as you work your way up the chain of command.

Many in the MLA believe that people with poor quirks are less capable of asserting their will and becoming whatever they want to be.  They are not, notably, alone in that that sentiment—we hear versions of it not only from villains like Trumpet and All for One, but from the paralleled parents of Midoriya Inko and Shimura Kotarou, the would-be hero Bakugou, and even the iconic hero paragon All Might.  While it’s not universal, My Hero Academia’s Japan is full of people who believe to some extent or another that people with weak or no quirks are inherently less capable of making their mark on the world.  The MLA is just more blatant about it than most.

The MLA are, as a group, not concerned about the fate of the quirkless.  My suspicion is that this is because they think quirklessness as a trait is on its way out—that the touted 20% of the world population that’s quirkless is hugely weighted towards the elderly, those who are from generations when quirklessness was more common.  Think about it: 20% is two out of every ten people.  Statistically speaking, that’s a huge portion!  You only have to look at Deku’s middle school classroom in Chapter 1—thirty kids, exactly one of whom is quirkless—to begin to suspect that there’s something a bit off with the 20% figure.

Further, the MLA follows Destro’s beliefs, and we know from Destro’s manifesto that he believed meta-abilities were growing stronger over time.  So to their mind, not only is quirklessness becoming a thing of the past, but so are weak quirks in general.  While their clear disdain for both is damning—and certainly discredits them as a group suited to decide how society should be structured!—please understand that, “We’re not very concerned with the rights of the quirkless because we think that there won’t be any such thing as quirkless people within a few more generations,” is not the same statement as, “We are A-OK with 20% of the world’s population being second-class citizens for the entire rest of human history,” and it is really not the same statement as, “People with no quirks, or bodies that can’t handle their quirks, need to be proactively removed from the gene pool and we are actively advocating for a systemic, organized culling.”

That said, their disdain, if blown out to society at large, would absolutely lead to discrimination and, undoubtedly, incidents of the same sort of violence that the MLA themselves were forged from.  That they haven’t thought or don’t care about this is one of many things that make them villains.

Further, there is an ugly strain within the MLA that still recognizes quirk marriages.  Because the MLA values freedom, they’re not as ubiquitous as you might think (at least if you think the MLA is a bunch of quirk supremacists with no other goals or values)—“freedom” does nominally include the freedom to marry who you want rather than let your own meta-ability trap you in a life you hate. However, it’s equally true that in a group that believes very strongly in the value of quirks, the power of quirks in the future, and the necessity of fighting a war to bring about that future, there will obviously be members who support the practice.  There are absolutely men and women who have been bullied and guilted by their families into loveless marriages for the sole purpose of producing children with powerful, desirable quirks.  How likely this is in any given location mostly depends on the commander’s opinion on it, though it’s a very rare one indeed who would go so far as discouraging it entirely.

———–      

THE HEARTS & MINDS PARTY

(Considerations on Japan’s political landscape.)

The current monolith of the Diet, the Liberal Democratic Party of Japan, managed to hold onto power for a full century after the Advent, but their grasp grew shakier and shakier over time.  Initial measures to bar meta-humans from voting proved increasingly unpopular as the percentage of the population with meta-abilities grew both larger and older.  People with easily-concealed powers gained office, sometimes being outed, sometimes not, but on the whole, decades of oppression and violence led to an ever-more-popular opinion that the LDP had mishandled the whole mess.  They lost their supermajority in the Diet when their longstanding alliance with the Komeito party splintered, regained it again for a few electoral cycles, lost it again when Komeito itself fractured, and so on, their once implacable numbers shrinking year by year.  Still, they managed to hold onto a coalition majority right up until Saneki Yuuichi was elected to the House of Representatives.

Saneki headed up a small party based almost entirely on the issue of meta-human basic rights.  Like many meta-humans of the period, he believed that the best way for meta-humans to attain those rights was to live like so-called “normal humans,” to show that meta-humans were just like everyone else. His party advanced the ideology that meta-humans should only use their powers to help others or better society, not to advance their own self-interest.  They pushed stringently for metas to be allowed equal recognition under the law as any Japanese citizen, but also supported measures such as requiring licenses for the use of meta-abilities and limiting those licenses to those actively engaged in assisting police.  Deeply tied to respectability politics, Saneki’s party contained virtually all emitters, a scant number of transformers, and no heteromorphs, who the party felt were an impediment to reaching their legislative goals, but whose particular needs could be brought back up at a later, more receptive time.

Saneki’s politics gained him many supporters, but also drove many into the arms of the Meta Liberation Army, who vocally loathed him and everything he stood for.  The confluence of public dissatisfaction with the spike in violence represented by the MLA, Saneki’s coalition gathering popular support among both metas and non-metas, and the rise of named, organized hate groups trying to roll back what few advances had been gained in meta-human rights finally spelled the end of the LDP’s majority.

The LDP falling apart prompted a scramble for power that would stretch on for nearly half a century. Old alliances whose only common ground had been opposing the LDP found themselves free to seek groups with more compatible goals.  Young single- or dual-issue parties leapt at the chance to address their issues with more fervor.  New parties sprung up across the country.  Not only meta-humans, but minority groups of all kinds saw new avenues to press for substantive positive changes that had been dead in the water under the LDP.  Voting numbers surged as they had not for decades.

The old, conservative elements of the Diet were not gone, of course—they remained a substantial powerhouse!—but no longer could they muster the undefeatable veto-proof numbers that they had once enjoyed.

Like everyone else, the remnants of the MLA saw opportunity in the new, ever-shifting status quo.  With the place of metas secured for the time being, there was no longer a need for metas to form coalitions in the Diet merely to get their basic needs addressed.  A single-issue party from its inception thirty years prior, Saneki Yuuichi’s party was fragmenting, unable to decide on a single direction now that their uniting issue had been resolved to their satisfaction.  In recognition of meta-humans reaching population parity, the MLA launched a project to begin seeding the ideals of Liberation at the highest levels yet—the Hearts & Minds Party.

Beginning as a local party in a prefecture in which the MLA had gained significant underground support, the HMP campaigned on a platform championing individual freedoms and a wide range of improvements to Japan’s battered and overworked social safety nets.  They made an effort to showcase diverse representation in their leadership and gave impassioned speeches promising to reach across party aisles in searching for nuanced solutions to the various difficulties facing the country.

It’s impossible to say exactly how large the Hearts & Minds Party is compared to the Meta Liberation Army, which is claimed by Re-Destro to have 116,000 action-ready warriors (the “warriors lying in wait, ready to rise to action” description presumably indicating that his count does not include uninducted children).

On the one hand, one can presume that everyone who’s a member of the MLA is voting for the HMP on every ticket they can, but not every member of the MLA—who induct combat-ready warriors as young as 16—is old enough to vote, and many probably live in districts or prefectures where the HMP has yet to establish a campaign-ready foothold. On the other hand, while the HMP certainly serves to funnel people towards the MLA, it doesn’t require membership—indeed, it’s far better for their goals for them not to do so.  Therefore, it’s also probable that the Hearts & Minds Party has many supporters who are not (yet) counted among the Liberation Army’s number.  Thus, for the purposes of ballparking estimates, I opted to simply suppose that the two areas lacking overlap (MLA members who can’t vote for the HMP and HMP supporters who aren’t members of the MLA) are relatively equal.

That established, we’re working with a party that has 116K voters/supporters/members.  The closest thing to that number that I could find numbers for is the Japanese Communist Party (JCP), which counted 300K members as of 2017.  Using their total membership compared to their representation in the Diet (as well as a willingness to viciously bastardize anything resembling reliable political math), I plugged in my estimate for the HMP’s membership and wound up with the Hearts & Minds Party holding four seats in the House of Representatives, five seats in the House of Councillors, and sixty-odd assembly members in various prefectural positions.

For some context to those numbers, the House of Representatives (more powerful, but more vulnerable to sudden electoral shifts) has 465 members, 233 of which are required for a majority, and 310 of which are required to override vetoes imposed by the House of Counsillors. The House of Counsillors (less powerful, but serving longer terms and unable to be dissolved for general elections like the House of Representatives can be) has 245 members, with 123 required for a majority.

As you can see, the HMP holding a handful of seats isn’t going to tilt the My Hero Academia world on its axis.  Still, it’s more seats than any number of real-life Japanese political parties hold, and right up until the one-two punch of Shigaraki taking over the MLA and Hawks outing Trumpet’s allegiances to the Hero Commission, the Hearts & Minds Party was well on-track to continue growing its power and influence.

———–      

TIMELINE

(For ease of calculation, most dates are rounded to the nearest five years.)

1980: A glowing baby is born in Qing Qing City, China, heralding the Advent of the Age of the Extraordinary.  For almost two decades, meta-abilities remain rare and poorly understood—incidents are widespread and show huge variance, so most people write them off as anomalies or hoaxes.  As the years go on, however, meta-abilities become more widespread, moving out of the realm of the odd headline that many people think is an elaborate hoax into an alarmed spotlight as it gradually becomes apparent that this is a thing that all humanity is undergoing.  Most major technological development pivots to trying to understand, undo, document or control this new phenomenon.

2030: The child who will become All for One is born.  By this time, society is breaking down into chaos. Across the globe, measures from outlawing all meta-ability use to internment are seen.  Eugenics laws are discussed or put in place.  Communities attempt to run out metas and, in response, groups of metas attempt to form their own communities.  Infanticide rates are rising alarmingly.

2060: Yotsubashi Chikara and Ujiko (original name unknown) are born.  Japan is in complete disarray, awash in mob violence, with organized groups of both metas and non-metas attacking victims indiscriminately.  Developing an ability can get you disowned.  Divisions among the meta minority are developing a noticeable strain of respectability politics rhetoric.

2065: AFO forces an ability on his younger brother, unintentionally creating One for All.  Chikara’s mother is murdered by an anti-meta mob for attempting to speak out in defense of the normalcy of her child’s ability.

2085-2090: Saneki Yuuichi becomes the first meta-human to attain a seat in the Diet. Despite nearly a century of violence, meta-humans are becoming a larger and larger percentage of the population, and the people of Japan are tired.  The prevailing sense is that it’s time to make peace; however, the peace that is being forged involves laws sharply restricting the use of meta-abilities for those who haven’t been formally licensed.  These restrictions see markedly mixed reactions from metas.  Chikara rallies the most vehement dissenters to create the Meta Liberation Army, calling himself Destro.              Disagreement over how to handle the MLA finally finishing the job of rattling the Diet free of the death-grip of the LDP.  Many years of fractious elections will follow as new coalitions form to try and seize majority power.

2095: Japan signs an international accord acknowledging the fundamental rights of meta-humans.  This gesture begins to splinter both internal support and public sympathy for the MLA.

2097: Destro is captured by police and their newly designated Quirk Unit.  Other surviving members of the MLA are hunted down or go into hiding.

2100: The term “Hero” is formally adopted, having been casually in use for some time.  A Hero is one who is licensed to use their power to fight quirk-based crime in accordance with local and federal laws, assisting the police when requested.  The Hero Commission is established as an agency with oversight in the licensing and regulation of Heros.              Destro dies in prison.  Though the matter is questioned, no proof of foul play is ever brought forward, and the death is ruled a suicide.

2110: Ujiko presents his paper on the Paranormal [5] Singularity Theory.  The paper suggests that the power of quirks is continuing to grow with each generation and will, in time, become more powerful than the human body can control.  His evidence is inconclusive, however, and his citation of some of Destro’s observations on the phenomenon becomes a particular sticking point.  In a country that is finally beginning to get its feet back under it, no one wants to see another widespread panic.  Ujiko is stripped of his position; having been living on campus at the time, he’s left functionally homeless and is approached by All for One not long after.

2120: The population of those with quirks and those without reaches parity in Japan. Seeing an opportunity, the MLA launches the Hearts & Minds Party as a local political party, intending to grow it over time.

(2125: Yagi Toshinori is born.)

2138: Yotsubashi Rikiya is born.

(2148: Debut of All Might.)

(2165: Shimura family tragedy.)

(2174: All Might “defeats” AFO.)

2175: Hanabata Koku is elected to the House of Representatives.  He’s not the youngest party leader in the Diet, but he’s close.

2180: The events of Deku’s freshman year at UA lead the MLA to turn their attention to the League of Villains.

———–      

STRAY FACTS

Why 1980/2180?—

It’s an even number for ease of calculation, triangulated between a few considerations.

Firstly, tasers are mentioned in the One for All dream, so the events of the dream (which themselves are happening far enough into the Advent that society’s had time to slide into all-out chaos) must post-date the invention of the taser, which was in 1993.

Secondly, Spider-Man’s silhouette is seen amongst the group of characters who represent the “fantasy” that became reality.  If we assume that those media properties existed in-universe (since the narration is delivered by Midoriya) and were assumed to be fantastical at the time, they must predate the Advent—Spider-Man is the newest of them and his first appearance was in 1962, his material being translated into Japanese by the 1970s.

Lastly, technological and societal development crashed to a halt with the Advent.  The world of My Hero Academia generally reflects a modern-ish Japan, so I wanted modern technology—and modern social reforms—to still feel modern to the characters.  Thus, the point at which society stopped developing needed to predate the Digital Revolution, which really began to hit its stride in the mid-80s.  Hence, 1980.

The opening period is, admittedly, fairly generous on my part, and does assume a certain amount of modern advances were probably underway, but then were lost, sidelined or rolled back as the chaos spread.  You could probably trim off twenty years by stepping up how quickly quirks begin to appear and spread, but the very beginning is the best window to do so.  I’d still peg the Advent at 1980 based on the calculations above (again, it has to fall somewhere between the mid-70s and 1993) but, for example, maybe All for One is from that first generation, and society only takes 30 years to reach the lowest point of its collapse instead of 80.

As to the 2180, the older characters introduce several requirements for the post-Advent timeline.  Ujiko was 50 at the time that society was beginning to stabilize, while AFO dates to its days of utmost chaos.  AFO also needs to be running on at least one anti-aging quirk prior to meeting Ujiko; if the only one he were running on was Ujiko’s own, then based on his appearance and the mechanics of Ujiko’s quirk, I’d peg AFO at merely 85, and he needs to be not only over 100, but far enough over 100 that he’s described that way rather than as “a century-old evil” or something to that effect.

Meanwhile, All Might can’t really be any younger than 50, and seven generations of OFA bearer predated him, even if they did all die relatively young.  Destro’s mother was killed in those early chaotic days, while Re-Destro (himself no spring chicken) is told as a child that the MLA has been in hiding for generations.  “Generations” implies at least two; I further suppose that Rikiya needs to be at least the original Chikara’s great-grandson for him to describe himself simply as Destro’s descendant, rather than use a more specific relationship term.  All of this points to a fairly lengthy stretch of time, much more than is glossed over by Midoriya’s series-opening narration.

AFO and the MLA—

I mention in the very first story of this series that the MLA’s contacts all go “mysteriously missing” after the capture of Destro.  While the police certainly did their own measure of work in tracking down the Liberation Army’s members and allies, there was another figure with a significant hand in the MLA’s downfall.

All for One, then in his early sixties, had watched the rise of the MLA in some interest.  On a personal level, he admired Yotsubashi’s charisma and resolve, and, of course, he wholly supported the free use of quirks (well, his own free use of quirks, anyway)!  On the other hand, All for One also sought to restore order to society, albeit order as he himself envisioned it.  While he was confident that there was no one who could stand up to him no matter whose ideals won out, Saneki Yuuichi’s way promised a more stable society, and bribable and/or blackmailable bureaucrats seemed easier to manipulate than ideal-driven zealots ready to give their lives for the cause.  Thus, AFO decided to help the police a bit behind the scenes, offering a few tip-offs and hints to guide their efforts to end the threat of the Liberation Army.

Of course, as long as Destro was alive, the cause of Liberation still had its focal point. And AFO was still a bit curious to meet this man, who’d inspired so very many loyal followers.  It was an easy thing to arrange.  An interesting man, and an interesting quirk.

Destro did commit suicide in prison.  A man who had always embraced his meta-ability for motivation, and whose ability transformed that motivation into power in turn, AFO stripped him of in the same moment. Isolation from other contact, separation from his lover, his friends and allies, and his cause, a gap in his psyche like no pain he’d ever experienced--all of these piled up on one another into a fatal despair.  After AFO’s visit, there was no need for anyone to arrange a convenient death for Destro.

(And if in later years, the monstrous Noumu, who are driven entirely by pre-programmed, single-minded resolve, are flint-skinned from head-to-toe, well—who would ever even think to connect those dots?)

The Mother of Quirks—

An interesting thing I observed from Re-Destro’s confrontation with Clone!Shigaraki is that, based on their exchange, it doesn’t seem to be common knowledge that the Mother of Quirks is the mother of the Meta Liberation Army’s leader?  Re-Destro’s apology for assuming Shigaraki wouldn’t recognize the story suggests that it’s a matter of fairly basic historical education, but he then goes on to explain her connection to Destro at some length—if that connection were taught at the same time her story was, surely he’d see no need to do this? Clone-a-raki’s response backs this up—unlike the general existence of the Mother of Quirks, which was such basic knowledge that he was insulted that Re-Destro thought he wouldn’t know about it, her connection to Destro was unknown to him.

Re-Destro describes the connection as “an inconvenient truth.”  This, in turn, suggests that the connection has been actively obscured.  The MLA’s place in history is taught; the originator of the term “quirk” is taught, but the two are not connected to each other. Kids in school aren’t taught that the very child whose mother was murdered for her words hated what his country was using those words, that message, to do.  It’s naked appropriation that continues to this day, and it’s no wonder that the MLA is furious about it.

The Quirk Unit—

An early term for the group that would, in relatively short order after their formation, officially be dubbed Heroes.  Composed of both meta-humans already on the police force and vigilantes willing to remit themselves to legal oversight, they fought quirk-based crime in many forms, from the common mugger to the terrorists of the MLA, and even former allies in vigilantism.  Well-regarded by history thanks to their efforts in reining in crime and disorder, but quite a controversial group in their early years.

MLA Age of Induction—

Being raised in the MLA means being raised with the goal of eventually being assigned a codename and tasked with supporting the Great Cause in whatever fashion your superiors think you best suited.  The minimum age for this is 16, though 18, being the age at which students graduate from high school, is more common.  At no point is there really a safe way to leave once you’re involved; they are, after all, a secret army.  There’s no aging out of the MLA—it’s a lifetime tour—but disability, injury or general decrepitude can get you assigned to work that generally won’t expect you to see open combat.  The Army is composed of a great many lifetime-of-service families, after all, which means they need teachers and caretakers; another option is dedicated work for the Hearts & Minds Party, who always have room for community organizers.

Liberated Districts—

Settlements that are at least 85% MLA-inducted.  At their largest, they’re small towns; rural villages are far more common.  Without exception, they’re isolated or out of the way.  Tend to have unusually good access to city services compared to similarly-sized settlements.  Deika was one of the largest districts the Army had, chosen for the Revival Celebration due to its combination of a sizable population and a particularly closed-off location.  The MLA knew they’d need many warriors to fight the League of Villains, but they also needed a site that was not merely remote, but that had controllable points of access.

It can take well over a decade to hit the 85% saturation mark in even small villages; Deika and the MLA’s handful of other full-fledged towns are the work of generations.  They begin by moving people into an area and setting up gatherings on some useful pretext or another, enthusiastically welcoming newcomers and very, very gradually indoctrinating people further into the ideology.  Financial support, an accepting environment for difficult quirks or those with patchy legal histories, the odd homeless shelter or food kitchen, a robust presence in the foster care network—the MLA is very, very good at making themselves a warm, sincere, reliable presence in peoples’ lives, a group that encourages everyone under their banner to be their best selves. They think everyone deserves that kind of support!

They are also willing to shed quite a lot of blood to make sure that everyone can get it.

On the Intersection of Disability and Quirk Suppression—

There are a few factors contributing to why Scarecrow can’t use his quirk to do things others would.  First, his quirk is the kind of off-putting that gets Gang Orca ranked third-most villainous-looking hero and leads Shoji to wear a mask because his face disturbs people.  So Scarecrow’s quirk is already the kind of visible that makes people look at him askance.  Compounding this, his prosthetics are obvious, visible to any old person, and people have a very ugly tendency towards bootstrap, “you can do it if you try” mentalities around people with disabilities.  These two factors mean that people who are disturbed by his creepy articulate bug legs would much prefer that he use his significantly less-creepy prosthetics, to the degree that they’re willing to suggest that he’s being lazy if he doesn’t.  They cite the quirk-use laws as a deflection tactic, but Scarecrow—whose pattern recognition functions just fine, thanks—is keenly aware of the underlying mindset.

Nimble is in much the same boat—she literally can’t talk without falling back on a visual representation of some kind (sign-language, a text-to-speech reader, etc), and why on earth shouldn’t she be able to use the fastest and most convenient one without people getting up her ass about it?

None of this is the kind of thing that would likely get either of them arrested (though Scarecrow’s creepy enough that the odds are higher for him, “villain quirk” bias being what it is), but the laws-as-written, nonetheless, are discriminatory, and that makes people justly angry.  Angry people are easier to radicalize, and the Liberation Army has been working that angle since their very inception.

Re-Destro and Trumpet’s College Days—

RD’s an Engineering major with a focus in Manufacturing; Trumpet’s in PoliSci.  They’re two grades apart, with Koku being the older.  Those two years of greater experience shift the power balance between them significantly when Rikiya arrives for his freshman year, facing a new place, a new workload, an entirely new rhythm to his life.  For the first time, Koku is not merely a friend in similar circumstances who is still—as they’re both reminded near-constantly—subordinate to Rikiya’s every word.  Rather, he’s a senpai, someone with specific experience in every aspect of this new stage of life—and someone who’s had two years to become more eloquent, more well-studied, more confident, more mature.

Removed from the immediate supervision of the First Families for the first time in his life, Rikiya allows himself to lean on Koku in ways he never would have back home. Koku, for his part, has had his responsibilities here impressed on him by the First Families at some length, and has spent his entire life being groomed to devote himself to his Grand Commander.  Having said Grand Commander looking to him with such glowing esteem in his eyes—well, there’s no denying that it’s pretty enticing.  The two of them enter a romantic relationship that will endure for several years until Rikiya gets his head back around the idea that Koku’s ability to say no to him is fundamentally compromised.

The Bindi Connection—

I had no reason to develop them any, and thus I don’t have names to assign, but it seems that Twice’s No. 3, the smiling old woman with the gingham dress and the rough-and-ready attitude to combat, and Geten’s No. 2, the short-haired woman whose face is being devoured by her out-of-control sweater neck, are related.  Note the bindi on both of them, as well as the similar hair color, particularly in the page introducing all the advisors.  Mutual connection to Dabi’s No. 3, the guy who got into a fight with a hole punch and lost, is uncertain but possible based on the confronting-the-heroes page spread in which Hole Punch dude’s hand lays familiarly on Grandma Bindi’s back while Big Sis Bindi turns partly towards him as if to whisper some sarcastic observation about how lame Cementoss’s ponytail is.

———–      

FOOTNOTES

1: Regarding codenames, the first generation of the MLA tended to have names that reflected their meta-ability in some way.  From the second generation on, at the behest of Destro’s son, the codenames have become less literal, and thus less revealing.

2: Viz renders the job tile “Executive Director,” but having checked the raw, the Japanese term, senmu, is associated with a fairly specific level of executive authority, and it’s lower than I would peg “Executive Director,” which to my ear sounds synonymous or slightly below Chief Executive Officer.  Executive Vice President is wikipedia’s translation; Google returns Senior Managing Director.  In any case, she’s near the top, but not at the top.

3: At least, he wasn’t prior to meeting Shigaraki.  Now he’s pretty much in favor of a very organized and coherent belief structure that can be summarized as, “Watch Shigaraki tear down the world ‘cause he’s beautiful and I love him,” and honestly, mood.

4: I’ll just come out and say it: fandom blew Geten’s words way out of proportion because a bunch of people got mad that he was being mean to Everyone’s Favorite Serial Killer Dabi.

5: An archaic term by this period.  Even “meta-human” saw more use in academic parlance, while the term “quirk” had become much more widespread among the general population since its official adoption during the period of legislation twenty years prior.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {5}

Summary: With an active shooter in the hospital, Ethan and Y/N remember their lives and all times they’ve spent together.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, triggering content

Word count: 5000+

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are, Isak Danielson - Love me Wrong, Dove Cameron - Remember me, Tom Odell - Can’t pretend, The XX - Angels, Coldplay - Fix you, Coldplay - The scientist.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

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Ukiyo (japanese noun) - living in the moment

When your world comes to a stop and the value of life is amplified by those dead before their time in gruesome ways, it feels like an earthquake shakes the very foundations your life is built on. But when the walls start falling, past and future no longer exist, only the moment you're in and the first person that comes to mind when those walls are gone is what your life is all about. For Ethan, Y/N was the first person that came to mind and his brother a close second.

There wasn’t anything he could do as the doors around him slid close, the inability to pass through the glass barrier pushing him closer to madness he ever thought possible. He was just a few inches away from the ward they’re both supposed to be on and he’s stuck? It felt like a cruel game of fate.

Not only did he have so much to say and not enough time, but he wanted to do something else as well. He wanted to wrap Y/N in his arms and tell her there isn’t a chance in hell he would ever let her walk away, not after he had a taste of what it means to be with her. He wanted to tell her his love is unconditional and that his soul is hers, even if she didn’t want to give him hers. He would wait, as patiently and as stubbornly as he did by now and that she will never lose him because even if he wished, he can’t scrub his heart clean of her tender soul. And he never wanted to.

Slamming his fists against the Plexiglas, red in the face, Ethan falls to his knees. His hands are shaky, his eyes filled with tears, his body feels warm and the back of his neck is trickling with beads of sweat. He’s terrified, seeing his worst dream manifest into reality and while she may be far from the shooter, he can’t be certain and if something were to happen to her, to his brother too, Ethan would lose his mind.

And he can’t help but remember the time he had the whole world in the palm of his hand, yet he failed to do the right thing.

“You really outdid yourself.” She smiled up at him, her eyes focused on his lips as she tilts her head up to reach his chin with her own, falling short a few inches, leaving a small peck just under his swollen bottom lip.

“If I knew making you food would make you that grateful, I’d have done it sooner.” Ethan chuckles, tightening his arms around her just a little more, hoping she knows he would never want her away from him. She had become his heart, his reason to live. She lit a fire within, something he had lost over time and while she’s completely unaware of it, if her world started to fall apart, Ethan would wage war to make sure she’s untouched by grief.

“Oh, shut up!” Slapping his chest playfully, Y/N had managed to hide a smile as she tucked her head under his chin, hiding her face in his neck shyly as his giggle filled her with joy she never felt before. She didn’t give a damn about her soulmate anymore, not when Ethan felt more like a soulmate to her than anyone else ever could. And maybe that is temporary, but she wanted to experience every little thing and keep it in her memory until her dying breath. Ethan Dolan would inevitably break her heart, but she didn’t care. She’ll take the pain for more nights like this.

“Mind if I ask you something”, she spoke quietly, just above a whisper. Ethan could hardly hear her, yet his heart jumped with the notion of her possibly facing him to his crime against her – his secret about their connection. What if she figured it out?He wasn’t exactly sly when she insisted they stop using condoms because she believes she can’t get pregnant and he managed to come up with a possible STD fear since they were anything but exclusive which is dumb since they basically spend every night together. When would he have time to fuck anyone else? When would she? Would she if she did have time?

Shaking his head to get rid of that painful afterthought, Ethan sighs as he nods as a response to her question, praying her suspicions over his excuses didn’t become more than suspicions. He wanted to be the one to tell her the truth about them being soulmates and he wanted more than anything to tell her he never wants to touch another for as long as he lives, but he needed to know she can love him even without the connection.

“You’ve been alive for a long time now. Much longer than me. I guess I’m just curious about your life.” She managed a small smile as their eyes meet, her index finger trailing up and down his chest as she notices his lips part, surprised by her question.

“Yeah, um…I’ve been around for 119 years now. I remember a happy family – mom and dad were like two lovebirds, just a typical soulmate couple that loved each other deeply. After my dad died from cancer, my mom was getting by. She was badass. After she died, Ethan and I left New York for a long time.” Letting out a heavy breath, Ethan closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. It wasn’t easy to remember his parents. Every day that went by, Ethan missed his family. Maybe that’s why he longed for his soulmate so much, because he wanted to replace the family he had lost?

“If it’s too hard”, Y/N tried to give him an out, propping herself up on her elbow to face him properly, her palm resting on his right cheek as her sweet lips pressed a kiss to his for comfort.

“No. I want you to know.” She laid beside him, instead of his chest. It felt vastly important to see the change in every line of his handsome face as he remembered the past and she didn’t want to miss a single word, expression or look he could bestow upon her. He felt more important to her than anyone and this wasn’t just a story, it was his story. With her leg still thrown across his waist and her hand splayed on his chest, she felt confident about her feelings for Ethan solidifying. There would never be another like him. She was sure of it. Drawing a deep breath, Ethan continued.

“My sister left to look for her soulmate, something she managed to do in just a few years and they’ve been happily living in Australia ever since. Grayson and I decided to start medicine, something neither of us regrets. It allowed us to travel, to learn, to save lives and make the world better, even if it’s just one person at a time. We’ve moved a lot for residencies, met a lot of people and moved back here thirty years ago. I’ve taken art classes for a few years, taught anatomy for a decade and even took a year off and lived on an island.” Reminiscing wasn’t easy, there were far too many things Ethan had allowed to slip his mind – some because they were too heavy to think back to and other just because he never felt the need to dig up his past. And while they spoke of his past the entire time and he recounted every mishap he ever had and every victory just to show off, Ethan had never once mentioned the cause behind the grey hair at the back of his head and no matter how curios she was, Y/N let him off the hook for a while. She couldn’t handle seeing his beautiful smile disappear and she absolutely adored his smile.

Ethan wished he was braver that night. He wished he told her the truth and let it all play out on her terms instead of his. Selfish. That’s how he feels now. He could have loved her openly, had her love him too? But he was too selfish back then and he couldn’t change that now. No matter how bad he wishes he could.

And while Ethan remained helpless, grasping his hair with trembling hands, praying his girl and brother are safe, Y/N was rather close by.

“How do we know where he is?” She whispered, looking around with wide eyes as she tried to assess the situation. Her steady hands grasped Grayson’s shaky ones, forcing eye contact as his lips started to tremble.

“Hey. We’re fine, Gray. We’re completely safe and there is no one with a gun pointed at our heads right now. Breathe.” She tried to calm him down, wishing she could roll her eyes right now because she didn’t understand his fear nor how bad she is at talking people down from a panic attack. Grayson’s hands became a cage for her own, his hold strong and relentless. Her jaw is tight, her resolve clear to Grayson who shakes his head.

“Whatever you’re planning, you can’t. I won’t let you.” Making himself clear, Grayson clears his voice as he examines her body language only to find she had no signs of fear taking over her. In fact, she seems fearless and that’s not always the best thing, especially in these situations.

“Protocol says the boss should make sure everyone is safe and you’re clearly shaken up. Grayson, it will take me half an hour tops. I just need to count everyone and make sure no patients are dying.” The fire in her eyes scared him even more than the possible shooter, realizing she isn’t going to back down and if he let her do this for him and got hurt, Ethan would never forgive him. But Grayson was almost paralyzed and it wasn’t death he feared but missing out on meeting his soulmate. He realized how stupid it is to wait for her to walk into his life without moving a finger. If anything, he should have been looking for her since the moment he knew there was a soulmate for him. He was absolutely terrified of dying without ever knowing what true love feels like.

“I’m not letting you leave here without me. I’m coming with and if I tell you to do something during this, you will listen. IS. THAT. CLEAR?” Grayson’s voice wasn’t shaky anymore and he was in charge once more. Y/N’s lips twitch in amusement, actually enjoying a serious Grayson with a badass attitude.

“Sure. Why not?” She shrugged, gifting him with a smile and even if he didn’t mean to, Grayson smiled too.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Amaranthine (adj.) - undying, immortal, undying, beautiful

And while they tiptoed around the wards – Pediatric, Gynecology, Neonatology, Y/N had recounted a night with Ethan she had bared her soul.

“You never talk about your parents.” Ethan noticed her stiffen, her back against his chest had turned into a brick wall, just as strong as those she built around her heart. He had craved a peek ever since they met and he definitely didn’t expect any of the bricks to fall.

But her body relaxed and she turned in his embrace, her eyes focused on his chest and her hands are curled up under her chin. She never seemed as vulnerable as she does now and Ethan felt honored to have her trust run deep.

“They were bad people. I like to pretend they never existed because they did the same for me. I felt like a flaw in the plan, like I was never meant to be born. That’s how they treated me. I feel like they were relieved when I got sick. Even then, they just paid the bills but ignored my existence. I grew up with an army of nannies and nurses, barely ever seeing them. Sometimes I’d hear them fighting…I don’t think their relationship was healthy but they stayed together anyway because the love they had thanks to the bond was unbreakable.” Biting her lower lip, she looks into his eyes briefly, but long enough to know he won’t judge her. He had all the understanding she sought in his hazel hues, a tenderness she always prayed to find in someone. There was no doubt in her mind she could trust Ethan Dolan.

“They owned a company that profited off people’s misery. They funded armies, and as I’ll later find out, terrorists too. My dad was arrested, took the blame so my mother would be free. He was killed in prison two days before his trial. As for my mom…After the nanny came for me in the hospital and took me home, I found her hanging from the living room ceiling.” Closing her eyes, she felt her body betray her as the memory shook her to the core. It just reminded her of all she wants to forget, but she wanted Ethan to know her and why she’s so fucked up. She never felt what love is, to be loved and cared for. She never knew how to love because all she ever had were these fucked up people who saw nothing but each other and even they didn’t know how to love one another.

“I’m here.” But Ethan didn’t run from her or her truth, no matter how fucked up everything is. Instead, he held her tighter, his hands rubbing her back soothingly until she let herself breathe again.

“Do you think I’m broken?” She whispered, her eyes watering as he frowned, his forehead forming a few worry lines she’d normally tease him about because their age difference is so vast despite them both looking so young, but she reveled in knowing he actually cares enough to worry about her. No one ever cared for her so much before.

“Do you?” He speaks and his voice had never been softer, so heavy yet coated with pure love – something she tried not to pay any mind to.

“I do. I feel like I’ve been shattered my whole life and you’re sort of picking up the pieces. Will you fix me? Please?” He didn’t respond with words, but with his lips, claiming hers so passionately as his fingers wiped her tears clean off. He didn’t see her as a project in need of fixing, but he would heal her if that’s what she needs. He would make her see she is wanted, needed and if anything, she healed him too.

It was great while it lasted, great to be loved, the warmth of his cheek next to her with his soft hand brushing her hair from her face and his cheeky laugh in her ear... it was great to be loved but when their bubble was gone, she shattered and felt isolated and alone, on her own in the world with no one to care for her, no one to laugh with. She hated herself for losing him, all because she didn’t know how to let him love her. She didn’t know how to love him either and it tore her apart.

“Okay, so we have everyone covered but the pediatric ward. I feel like we should split up, get it done faster so we can report to the police.” Y/N talks in hushed voices, trying to remain calm as Grayson nods reluctantly, assuming that the danger for them is gone. Who would go to a ward with kids holding a gun? He just wanted to finish his duty and go back to contact the police, his brother too. He worried about Ethan and while Y/N showed no signs of worrying, he knew she was dreading the possibility of losing Ethan too.

“I’ll go left.” She forced a smile, giving Grayson a small wave as she turned away and let out a long sigh. At first she wanted to tell him that Ethan is fine, to give him a message for him in case something went awry, but she decided against it. Why bother when they would be just fine and leave with their heads attached to their shoulders? Why say something when emotions are running high only to regret the words later on?

Sneaking down the hall, she entered every room with a soft smile upon her lips, checking on the kids quickly and instructing them to stay still. Luckily, most kids had a nurse with them, or even a parent, someone to barricade the room once she left and it left her relieved. Those who were alone, she ushered with ones who had an adult by their side, helping kids unwind as well.

She walked out onto the bridge connecting Pediatrics with otorhinolaryngology, her eyes going over the patient list on her side, but no matter how many times she went through them, she was one kid short.

“Fuck.” She mumbled under her breath, sitting down before taking her phone out and dialing Grayson.

“Gray, I’m missing a kid. A Martha Levi? If you found one extra kid, let me know.” Pocketing her phone, she leaned back against the glass made railing, looking at her shoes with a heaviness in her heart. 

Petrichor (n.) - a love for the scent of rain in nature

She couldn’t help the feeling of regret as it washed over her. She should have told Ethan she loves him too, that she wasn’t perfect but she would find a way to make it work between them for as long as he wants her, but she didn’t. Even if she is absolutely crazy for him.

A small smile formed on her lips as she remembered the night she realized she loves Ethan, the night he had acted on impulse and still managed to create such a beautiful memory she would never forget. He made sure she never forgets him.

“It’s starting to rain.” Y/N groaned, holding out a hand as a few drops wet her palm, making her shake her hand and frown.

“Don’t like the rain?” Ethan chuckles, cocking his head to the side as he walks forward, even if the rain started to pour in seconds.

“You’re gonna get a pneumonia!” She shouted over thunder, watching him push his wet hair back before outstretching his hand for her to take.

“Not gonna happen, Dolan!” She meant it. Rain was anything but a favorite to her. But Ethan seemed relentless.

“Come on, sweetheart! I promise it’s just a little bit of rain!” Ethan insisted, a grin taking over his face as she started to gnaw on her lips, a clear sign she’s contemplating his offer, something she wouldn’t have done if she didn’t plan on joining him.

And she hates rain with burning passion, but Ethan seems to love it, every single drop. He enjoyed the rain, the thunder, the smell that lingers after, everything about it. And she loves him. Enough to step into the horrid wetness rain brings, just as long as she gets to kiss him after.

“I really hate you sometimes.” She rolls her eyes at him before taking his hand, allowing him to draw her near and as he does, he rests her hand over his shoulder, taking her waist with his other. Pulling her close, Ethan smirks while she gawks at him, noticing him move in a slow rhythm to a song playing in his head.

“What are you doing?” She narrowed her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows, all while a smile formed on her lips – all in disbelief as her own hips started to sway with the silent song in the storm, a song in their hearts.

“Dancing with a gorgeous woman.” Ethan snickers, leaning his forehead on hers lightly, their noses brushing together and her eyes close for a moment, collecting herself, reminding herself this is real.

Unable to take it, she leans into him, her head resting on his chest as her arms close around him, feeling his hands rest on the small of her back, virtually no space remaining between them. And that’s when she heard it – “Wise men say only fools rush in” – at first it was so quiet she thought she was imagining it, that maybe the thunder had made her imagine the sound, but his lips were right by her ear and he mostly whispered it, - “But I can't help falling in love with you “ - ,but the words made her heart race fast enough that she felt faint.

Her lips part, her mind screaming with every syllable, yet she never felt more at peace. - “Oh, shall I stay, would it be a sin. Oh, if I can't help falling in love with you?” – How can one man make her feel so many things at once? She didn’t know what is stronger – her need to run and save her heart from heartbreak, or her need to stay in his arms forever. – “Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be.” –

Taking a deep breath, she stopped dancing, not even caring about the rain ruining her make up when he stopped too, his lips still moving as his voice got slightly higher, but looking into his eyes as he sang? – “Take my hand, take my whole life too. Oh, for I can't help falling in love with you “ - Even if it was a half whisper, Y/N never felt happier.

Ever since, rain had become a friend, more than a foe and Ethan? He had taken a permanent residence in her heart.

She could still hear him singing in the back of her mind, her eyes closed as she tried to relax, to let his voice ease her nerves for she couldn’t lie – Y/N felt like she’s standing on edge of a very high cliff and she didn’t know if she had the strength to come back down and face everything that pushed her there in the first place. She tells herself she’s fine with how her parents hated her, but she’s not. She tells herself she’s fine with her battles with cancer, but she’s not. She tells herself she’s fine with Ethan being hers but having a soulmate out in the world, but she’s not.

There isn’t anything she’s fine with in this case and she can’t help but wish Ethan was there with her. He would know what to say to calm her raging storm and to stop the war inside her. He’d remind her she’s a fighter, something she has no strength to remind herself of.

“Y/N?!” But then she heard it – heard him. For a moment she was sure it’s a hallucination, but when she turned her head, she saw him standing on the other side of the glass, mere inches away from her with a relieved look on his face.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Looking around, Ethan wanted nothing more than to open the door and hold her, but with the key-cards being useless at this point, he was just happy to put his hand on the glass and have her do the same.

She couldn’t hide her happiness, her hand quickly laying against the glass, longing for his touch.

“Yeah. How”, she pauses to take a breath, her throat closing up as her emotions flood her senses and she’s on the brink of crying. “How are you here?”

“I was on my way to see you. I had to talk to you.” Ethan spoke when her phone went off and she saw it was Grayson. Holding up her index finger, she picked up the call, eager to tell him she and his brother are both fine.

“Hey.”

“Martha isn’t here either.” Grayson’s panicked voice is enough to make her mutter ‘fuck’ under her breath, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll do a second sweep. Stay put. And Ethan’s fine. I’m sort of with him right now.” She let out a weak chuckle, ending the call before rubbing her forehead.

“A kid is missing, I’ll have to go back and check the rooms again.” She explains and Ethan nods, wetting his lips.

“Did you check the janitor closets and on call rooms?” Ethan suggests and Y/N facepalms.

“No…I bet Grayson didn’t either. She might be scared and hiding.” With her hands on her hips, she half smiled at him. “Your brain is beautiful. Thank you.” But Ethan was no longer looking at her, rather over her shoulder with his eyes wide and mouth open and while she didn’t have to look back, she knew it just by the expressions on his face.

Turning halfway toward the door connected to the pediatrics, Y/N felt her heart speed up. She didn’t frighten easily, in fact, people would say she’s not one to flinch, but the sight of a grown man holding a gun to a scared little girl’s head? It was enough to scare her.

There are times in your life when everything comes down to one moment - one defining moment where you're either the hero or a coward. And in that moment, Y/N could see her life pass before her eyes. She saw her father imprisoned, her mother hanging in the hall, the nurse that always hid an extra cup of her favorite jelly, chemotherapy, trying to stand after surgery, fainting in med school when her cancer returned, meeting Ethan, Ethan's smirk, Ethan's warm arms, the way his fingers coil around her neck as his hips meet hers, Ethan in the OR, Ethan kissing her in the rain, his haunting voice as he sings in her ear, Ethan pushing her against the wall as his lips press against her throat, when Ethan said he loves her...when she summarized her life, the past few months she's known Ethan had overshadowed every bad things, every tear and every pain and all she could see is HIM. And her choice was no longer a choice, but a certainty - something she saw worthy of whatever is to come.

"Take me!" She shouts, her hand above her head and her palms turned to the shooter, her insides shaking but her face remained impassive and at peace with her decision.

"Take me, leave the girl alone." She insisted, her voice not wavering, not even a little. She glanced back at Ethan who remained stuck behind the glass door just outside of the pediatric ward and her lips pressed together to keep in the shattering scream of emotions just bubbling to come out.

Ethan pounded on the door but Plexiglas doesn't break easily and no matter how hard he screamed and his face turned red, Y/N was out of reach and he couldn't do a damn thing.

"Fine then." The shooter kicked the little girl, the little one running straight to Y/N who gave her a quick hug and whispered directions to take after she was gone with the man.

"Go straight down the hall to the gynecology ward, you'll find a handsome doctor to keep you safe there."

She knew once the little one arrived, Grayson would know she wandered and would lose his mind, but she couldn't just let a little girl be used for whatever this man intended.

Glancing at Ethan one last time, Y/N mouthed 'I love you' and the next thing she knew, the shooter had grabbed her arm and pulled her before him, the cool barrel of the gun pressed against her temple and he whispered in her ear menacingly.

"Don't do anything stupid."

Trembling wildly with adrenaline overflowing her system, Y/N couldn’t force herself to even try and see Ethan, quite possibly for the last time. She could hear him begging, screaming, offering himself, but she was forced back onto pediatrics and just as they stepped into the main hallway, blood splattered her face.

Gasping, her ears ringing, Y/N falls to the ground, the world around her slowing down as the man falls with her. She’s quick to stand back up, using the adrenaline rush to keep herself going, seeing red dots dancing along her pink scrubs as she raises her hands up in the air, her breath caught in her throat.

All the doors opened at once, the SWAT team swooping in, but the man’s brain is painting the floor, he wasn’t dangerous anymore.

Struggling for a few short breaths, Y/N felt her heart beating out of her chest. No matter how hard she tried, everything seemed out of control and while people are talking around her, she can’t hear a damn thing.

But then she sees him stumble in the ward, his face blotchy, hair a complete mess and she didn’t even realized she was moving. Without even thinking, she jumped up and threw her arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. Ethan was holding her so tightly that she couldn’t see his face, and she can’t tell when he let her go as her vision faded and her body went limp in his arms. Unable to handle the shock of the day, her consciousness slipped away from her and she found herself enveloped in darkness, but she never felt safer in her entire life.

It wasn’t until later that she regained consciousness. Finding herself in Ethan’s bed, wearing his over-sized t-shirt, she smiled slightly. It’s exactly where she wants to be. Looking toward the door left ajar, she hears him.

“What are you doing? She’s a perfect picture with a broken frame. You can’t just glue it back together and think it’s enough. You need to be honest. That might make it new.” Grayson whispers and she couldn’t help but wonder what they’re talking about. Her? Is she the one with a broken frame? She never realized Grayson thought so low of her. It stung to know it now.

“Plus, you see the world in black and white. She doesn’t. You need someone like her in your life, brother. Just tell her everything. She’ll understand.” Now her curiosity is peaked. She can’t help but wonder what the truth is and if it has anything to do with the mysterious soulmate Ethan seems to hide from her.

“It’s not that easy, Grayson. I can’t just come out and say it.” Ethan exclaimed, lowering his voice when he spoke the words Y/N never dreamed would be true. It stopped her heart when he admitted the truth, unaware she had never been more awake in her entire life.

“I can’t just tell her – Hey, we’re soulmates and I’ve known all this time – Y/N would kill me.”

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Tags: @beinscorpio​ @peacedolantwins​ @heyits-claire​ @dolandolll​ @godlydolans​ @dolanstwintuesday​ @ethanhes​ @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12​  @zeusgrayson​ @libradolan​ @justordinaryjen​ @pineappledolan​ @graysavant​ @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan​  @shadowsndaisies​ @maybgrayson​​ @dolans4lyfe​​ @mendesficsxbombay​​ @fxkthatdairy 

Anyone crossed out wasn’t able to be tagged, probably an issue on Tumblr’s side, sorry.